Page 15 of Halloween With the Siren
Heart in my throat, I ask, “Marisol, can we see you again?”
“I…” Marisol swallows and an apology furrows her brow. “I like you, Bash, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I’m thirty-one. I have a good life and a job I enjoy. I’m not looking for a house in the suburbs or staying home to take care of a pack.”
“I’m not proposing marriage.” The “yet” is silent, but loud in my mind. “I’m only asking you to give our pack a chance. Let’s get to know each other. Show us your life and we’ll show you ours, that way we can see if there’s a way for us all to fit together. I don’t want you to change anything about yourself or your life. I’m simply asking for the opportunity to see if there’s the tiniest sliver of a chance for us to be more.”
Marisol studies me carefully, her attentive gaze flitting over my face as she deliberates. I keep my face totally open so she can read my sincerity.
Squaring her shoulders, she states neutrally, “I live on a small island and I run a pub.” If she thinks this is something that’s going to put us off, then she’s definitely mistaken.
Challenge accepted.
I skim my hands higher up her legs and rest them on her thighs. “We’re shifters with pretty impressive muscles and can help you carry heavy equipment. And we’re pretty good at cleaning up too.”
Scrunching her brow, Marisol seems as if she wants to argue, but there’s a tiny twinkle in those steel-gray pools that tells me she’s secretly pleased by my answer.
“I go swimming every morning. No matter the weather.”
I pull her closer until she’s in my lap. “So do I.”
“You do?” she asks, settling her hands on my shoulders, her eyes now sparking with interest.
My smile is easy as I glide my hands up until they settle around her waist, my thumbs gently caressing her ribs. “I’m a free diver. I have a small diving school and I also do some underwater photography. Oh, and I give surfing lessons on weekends.”
“You love the ocean?”
“We all do.”But not as much as we can love you.
Her grin comes slowly, cautiously, as if she’s taking down the protective wall around her heart, brick by brick. My heartflutters wildly as I witness her surrendering to the idea of “us,” the moment forever etched in my mind and my heart.
I lean my forehead against hers and whisper, “Can I come swim with you?”
“Yes.”
Chapter 9
Marisol
Iglide through the water, my fluke propelling me forward as the ocean calls me deeper, welcoming me home like an old friend. My hands stretch out in front of me as I dive down, my tail shimmering in the early morning light filtering in from above as I push harder, going faster and faster.
Having my tail again after a week of only having legs is revitalizing, my body singing with the freedom it brings me to explore the beautiful world below the surface. The autumnal water is invigorating, making my skin prickle and sharpening all my senses and clearing my mind.
I pause to watch a school of herring twisting and turning in a synchronized dance of metallic luminance. I consider trying tocatch one for myself, but the happy memory of Bash feeding me fish while I’m sprawled in his lap makes me reconsider.
Will I always think of Bash whenever I eat herring again? Will I think of Silas every time I braid my hair? And will Killian be at the forefront of my thoughts when I have to carry something heavy, imagining his strong arms and how it felt to be cradled in them?
Far in the distance, a whale calls out, his melancholy song echoing through my heart. My week with Pack Morgan was amazing, and even if they said they want to see me again, will they really make the effort to come out to Starry Hill?
Wanting to leave any bleak thoughts behind in the water, I flick my tail sharply and turn, whipping myself in the opposite direction to return home.
I have one more day of rest before I’ll go back to Starry Hill and get The Singing Seahorse ready for Halloween, and I plan to do as little as possible until then.
When my head breaks through the surface, I slow my pace and squint up at my cottage, seeing two familiar figures standing on my porch, arms laden with food. A grin splits my face as I wave at them, excited to see their friendly faces.
Maisie puts down her wicker basket and cups her hands around her mouth. “We come bearing food,” she shouts and gesticulates at the basket still in Tilly’s arms.
Any traces of my uncharacteristic glumness remain behind me as I shift back into my legs and grab my towel on the beach, smiling broadly as I rush toward my friends.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, stunned and warmed by their unexpected visit. I pull both into gentle hugs, keeping my body angled so I don’t get them too wet.
