Page 32 of A Siren Song for Christmas

Trent kissed me. He kissed me!

He couldn’t make sense of it.

“I’m sorry. Was that wrong?” Trent’s gaze dropped to his knees. His shoulders hunched forward. “I thought that since our date was going well, it would be okay to kiss you.” He glanced at Malachi before dropping his gaze again. “Did I… Was I wrong?”

Malachi stayed completely still, frozen in place.

He kissed me.

Then his brain snagged on a single word.Date. Trent had called this a date. Malachi blinked. It felt like he’d jumped into the freezing waters of the lake.

Because Trent had not been suggesting friendship in his invitation to the Christmas markets. He’d been suggesting a date, a courtship ritual common in Anorra. Which of course had gone completely overlooked by Malachi, since he had never gotten used to the ways of Anorra even after so many years living here!

No, Malachi was a siren. And he’d found his mate through song. He’d not even known Forathia’s name when he knew they belonged together.

But Trent lived in Anorra. He was not a siren. So instead, to show he was interested in Malachi, he’d come into Malachi’s shop every day, nervous and flustered. He’d asked Malachi on a date. Of course, he’d not explicitly used the worddate, so Malachi had not realised.

He thought back to all the times Trent had stared at him. To all the times he’d stammered or stuttered. He thought of the hope in the young man’s brown eyes when he’d come into the emporium earlier that day to go to the Christmas markets together.

And now those brown eyes stared at him, brimming with vulnerability. And hurt. Because Trent had tried to kiss him, and Malachi had pulled back. Now the young man thought he’d done wrong.

Malachi had to explain. “I…” He trailed off.

He stared at Trent and his expressive brown eyes. Trent’s throat bobbed. He clasped his hands in his lap.

“I…,” Malachi tried again. “I am sorry. I had not realised this was a date.”

The skin between Trent’s brows puckered. “What do you mean?”

“When you asked me to go to the Christmas markets, I thought it was as a friend. Nothing more.”

Trent exhaled, his body deflating with the motion.

“Sirens are very direct in courtship manners, and asking each other on dates is not a part of it. I apologise for not understanding your intentions.”

“So you didn’t want to go on a date with me?” Trent asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I did not know that’s what you were asking.”

“And if you did know I’d been asking you on a date, what would you have said?” Trent’s eyes pierced straight to Malachi’s core.

Malachi glanced away. He did not want to reject Trent. But what else could he do? “I probably would have said no,” Malachi finally said.

Trent sucked in a breath.

“But not because of you. Because of me,” Malachi said. “I lost my mate over ten years ago. He died. I am not capable of loving again.”

The chair beneath Trent creaked. “I didn’t know that.”

Malachi shook his head. “How could you have? I haven’t told anyone in Anorra.”

The fire crackled, filling the silence that stretched between them.

“I’m sorry, Trent. But it really is not because of you.” He looked at Trent then. “Honestly I’m surprised someone as magnificent as you would be interested in a weary, dull, grief-stricken siren like me.”

Trent’s mouth twitched. “I’m nothing special.”

“That’s not true at all,” Malachi protested. “You’re exquisite. You’re beautiful. You have a kind heart and show great caring towards others. I marvel that no one has realised that and endeavoured with all their might to make you theirs.”