Page 25

Feet. At the thought of having feet, my heart starts to race. I’d be lying if I said that seeking out Maren was my only reason for wanting legs. The truth is, I want to know what it’s like to live in this world. Maren was fascinated with the land of humans from a young age, but I kept my curiosity to myself. I pretended it held no interest to me, though, secretly, I wished I could be something other than a Syren.

And now, under the worst circumstances possible, my wish is about to come true.

“I accept,” I tell him.

“Good girl,” he says, his face impassive as he brings the rim of the jar to my lips. “Now, drink up.”

I open my mouth, and he pours the vile concoction inside.

“Caudam capio et tibi pedes dabo,” he chants in a low voice, in a language I don’t understand. Chills run through my body as he continues. “Vocem capio et servitutem tibi trado.”

But as I start swallowing it down, he grabs the top of my hair, making a fist, and then sinks his teeth into my jugular.

I try to scream, but I choke on the liquid, forcing me to swallow the rest.

Priest keeps sucking, drawing my blood into his mouth in greedy gulps, and that dizzying sensation from earlier is back. I’m bleeding from both my wrists, and he’s feeding from my neck—I’m losing too much blood at once.

“Priest!” I try to yell, but I can’t. The word only comes out as a whisper. I try to scream instead, that horrible sound that only Syrens can produce to stun their prey, but though I feel my throat vibrate with the effort, only a harsh whisper emerges.

What have you done to me?

But then I feel a tightness around my body, squeezing me all over like a rope but from the inside out, and I realize that it’s only just beginning.

A loud crack suddenly fills the room, a burst of bright light, and it’s as if lightning has burst through and struck me right in my core.

I scream and scream, more ragged whispers, and it feels like my tail is being split in two, burned down the middle and split apart. I can feel my bones break, my muscles sever, before fusing back together. My scales quiver and then sink into my body like a million needles. My blood feels like it’s boiling inside my veins.

At some point, Priest lets go of my hair, unhooks his fangs, and steps back. I writhe on the cross, crying out, moaning, trying to escape the pain of my lower body, and then…

I hear Priest suck in his breath.

I manage to open my eyes, too afraid to see what’s happened to me.

He meets my gaze.

I expect to see violence and excitement in them.

Instead, there’s lust.

His pupils are dark pools of desire.

I glance down at my body and gasp.

My tail is gone. Below the waist, I have a pair of legs—pale, like the rest of my body, hairless, knees, ankles, feet, toes. They all burn like they’re on fire, but at least the pain is smoldering.

“It worked,” Priest says thickly, his gaze between my legs, right at my new womanhood. This is what is driving the lust in him, a woman bare in front of him.

I use this to my advantage.

I’m standing on my tiptoes—toes!—with just enough leverage to keep the pressure off my shoulders and arms, but I decide the pain is worth the gamble. I slowly lift both legs, stretching them out. My shoulders pull forward, and my lungs are squeezed from the pressure, but I watch Priest’s eyes as I open my new thighs for him, as I show off my most sinful parts.

He’s practically licking his lips.

“Touch me,” I whisper to him.

He blinks and takes a step back, finally meeting my eyes. “Pardon?”

“I want to know if I can feel. I want to know what my skin feels like. Touch me.”