Page 139 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
Seth shakes his head. “Wintermere’s coast is covered in ice. I wouldn’t step a toe in the Red Forest to save my life, and we’d need a plane, not a boat, to reach the Solar Cliffs. No, your turf is the closest and safest anchorage on this side of the continent.”
“Let’s go, then.”
The white sail changes direction as suddenly as it did when Seth and Imogen were fighting.
Beth frowns at the mainsail. “Seth?”
“I’m not doing it,” Seth grunts under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides.
We all look at Imogen’s unconscious form, but she’s still out cold.
Seth backtracks toward the hatch. “I’ll check on Luther.”
A low hum becomes audible in the night. “Wait!”
Fog creeps over the ship’s bow, extending its long white claws toward us, encroaching over the railings on all sides, and a silhouette appears at the back of the stern.
I shield Beth with my body, positioning myself between her and the phenomenon just as a tall, naked woman stalks out of the mists. Long red hair covers her breasts and falls below her waist, her posture full of confidence despite her lack of clothes. “I’m Melisandra, leader of the North Sea clan. You’re holding one of my blood against her will, and you’ll pay for it with your life.”
Her voice is hauntingly beautiful. Faint tattooed lines in her bronze skin draw my attention to her belly button, guiding my sight down to the place between her thighs, but I blink away the haze of her magic, steeling myself against its influence and tearing my gaze away from her enticing form.
Seth gulps beside me, his pupils wide and dark, clearly bewitched.
Another siren climbs over the bow. “We heard your song and answered your call, sister.”
Beth grips my upper arm and sinks her nails in my flesh to keep me by her side, though I have no intention to move. “Wait. They’re with me.”
Melisandra shifts her weight from her toes to her heels and braces her hands on her hips. She squints at Beth as if the slits of her eyes could somehow see directly inside her soul. “What’s your name?”
“Elizabeth Snow.” My Songbird tips her chin up, unintimidated by the siren, and my heart swells at how confident and commanding she is. The years since our last meeting have chiseled her into an even more formidable woman, the insecurities of her youth gone.
The siren’s full red lips curl in a grimace. “Not your earthling name. Your song would not answer to that name.”
Beth licks her lips. “Giving you my full name will only give you more power over me.”
Melisandra cocks her hip to the side. “Your refusal to answer will only makememore violent.”
“I’m Melia,” Beth says on a shaky breath.
Melisandra remains unmoved. “And your mother’s name?”
“Melissa.”
“Sisters, meet Melia, daughter of Melissa”—she purses her lips to the side in a smirk—“and her earthling men.”
The mermaids laugh, and the sound is absolutely chilling.
A dry chortle draws my attention to our rear, where another redheaded siren squats over the top of the cabin as she extends her arm toward Seth. “The men of Storm’s End are always eager to meet a siren, I hear,” she says.
“You bet,” Seth drawls in a trance, licking his lips.
“What about the one tied up in the hold?” a blonde one asks. She peers down the opened hatch, her wavy locks brushing the floor as she moves.
Yet another siren, identical to the one who spotted Luther, nudges her sister’s side. “He’s cute. I’d share him.”
The women are all flawless and naked, and their combined magic sinks into my pores. The most irrational and inconvenient erection pulses inside the confines of my trousers, as though I’m a teenager having sex for the first time, and I stifle a groan.
“Please, can we talk about this?” Beth negotiates.
