Page 32
Story: Song of Sorrows and Fate
“Cuyler, don’t you hear them?” I tried to shove him away.
“Siren songs. Don’t listen.” I took note of the cloth shoved inside his sharply tapered ears. All the watchers were doing much the same. “Close them off, Calista. Sea singers are the male sirens of old lore.”
Little Rose! Silas’s voice ripped through me, harsh and panicked.
Somewhere in my heart his voice soothed the delirious need to follow the intruder’s stunning song. But . . . their sound was so delightful, so intoxicating.
Desire and unfettered arousal burned through my belly, between my legs. I groaned, mortified at the rush of lust. Heat flooded my face when it was Silas I saw in my head. His intensity, his mystery, what would it taste like on my tongue?
“Push them back!”
I thought it was Cuyler who shouted the command. Cuyler. He was strong and, no doubt, as the heir of his fae court had, more than one woman he’d taken beneath his body. His broad, firm body. It felt wrong. I dreamed of Silas, but Cuyler’s body was here. Did he know how delicious he smelled? Like a rainstorm and musk and leather.
I arched—truly arched—against him. In the back of my skull mortification blared to life. More so when Cuyler’s frosty eyes went wide. “Cal. No, it’s in your head. Shield your ears.”
“I need . . .” My body throbbed in tension.
“Come with me, lovely.”
I spun around. A glorious sea fae stood fifteen paces away. How frightful he’d been upon surfacing, but now . . . my mouth was wet, my body throbbing. He could bring me some relief.
I walked toward him. Somewhere in my senses, I thought Cuyler might’ve screamed my name. What did it matter? I needed this sea man. He was so beautiful. He held out a hand, curling long fingers, beckoning me forward.
Stop! A dark, silky voice broke through my mind.
Whisper. My Whisper. My Silas. My broody, masked, shadowed phantom.
He was here somewhere. I looked around, desperate to find him. More than my delightful sea creature, I wanted Silas to relieve this scorching ache of desire.
Don’t you take another step, Little Rose.You are mine.
Damn him. Did he not know that was, in fact, exactly what I wanted? Silas might be lost in shadows, perhaps he chatted with ghosts, but I had no doubt those fingers could do miraculous things to the flesh. Did he touch with the same ferocity as his gaze? Did he use filthy words as demanding as his tamed voice? Would he take me fast and passionate, or slow and sweetly?
In my head lust flared to something deeper. Desire pulsed into something lasting.
I wasn’t convinced it mattered. I thought I might take Silas any way.
Odd. The rush of primal need burned into a new sensation in my chest. Something hot and forceful. The want was there, but it was more.
“Come to me.”
Ah, my sea creature. In my whirling thoughts, I’d nearly forgotten such a stimulating being was awaiting my hand.
I reached for him.
“Calista, no!” Cuyler shouted.
My friend and his blood fae watchers were fighting. Blades clashed over the horrid-looking sea folk the instant they emerged. Some fell. Others fought back. The people of Raven Row shouted words that turned to haze in my ears. Muffled, like I had already stepped into the sea.
“Come with me.” The sea delight’s breath was next to my ear. He held out a hand.
I wanted to take it, so desperately, but I hesitated.
“Come with me,” he said, angrier than before.
No. This . . . this was wrong. I faced him, head tilted. “I don’t want to leave him.”
For a fleeting moment, the smooth contours of my sea creature’s face twisted into something horrific, something deadened. Gods, they were walking, hideous corpses at first. This . . . this was a ruse.
Table of Contents
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- Page 32 (Reading here)
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