Page 7 of Rock of Stages (Moonlight Siren #4)

CALEB

I loved music. I loved playing drums. And I loved performing with the band.

But I’d never felt exhilaration like what rushed through me with Naiya in the audience.

Once we locked gazes, everything else faded.

I played for her, banging out the beat to Van Halen like it was some sort of primal mating ritual.

She sat alone at a table, wearing the dress that I’d picked out for her—one that brought out the fascinating sea-green hue of her eyes.

She watched me with a rapt expression, pink lips parted, and I performed at my best, wanting to impress her.

Our practice had been cut short earlier thanks to Angus’s unwelcome, slimy entrance, and when I’d met up with the band again before our set, they’d wasted no time ribbing me.

“Was it tidal-love at first sight?”

“Did you reel her in for the catch?”

But when Van wagged his eyebrows and said, “Getting a little tail tonight?” I’d snapped at him.

“Don’t talk about Naiya like that,” I grumbled.

“Easy, it was just a joke,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “Don’t get so stone-faced about it.”

Something was different about Naiya, they could clearly see. But they didn’t come right out and ask what they might have suspected.

Mate.

That was a sacred bond, beyond all kidding around.

Through the remainder of our classic rock set, I practically floated in the clouds. We ended it with a fiery rendition of Def Leppard’s “Rock of Ages,” and the audience cheered with enthusiasm.

I quickly made my way over to her.

“Wow, you were absolutely brilliant!” she cooed.

My heart seemed to swell three times larger, like I was a stone grinch. “Thanks. I’m glad you were here.” I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her, but was covered in sweat from that performance. “I need to rinse off real quick,” I said. “Then we’ll get a bite upstairs?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Twenty minutes later, we’d picked our selections from the buffet upstairs and sat at an outdoor table beneath the stars. I’d stacked my tray with two burgers and sides to fuel me after burning through energy. She’d chosen pizza, salad, and chocolate cake for dessert.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” she asked.

“New England, where I grew up. My parents died when I was young, and my grandfather raised me. He was strict and stoic, and I did what many teenagers did—rebelled through music.”

“I love it,” she crooned, leaning forward. “You’re back in human form now. Do you shift so often?”

I swallowed my burger bite and took a sip of soda before replying. “My gargoyle form takes up a lot of space on this ship. So I save it for the sky and our shows. The drum space is mine. And having a big gray gargoyle bang on the drums is part of our appeal.”

“I’ll say,” she agreed with a giggle.

That musical sound spread an unfamiliar lightness through my chest. She took a bite of pizza and chewed with a thoughtful expression.

I reached over and squeezed her hand across the table, partially as an excuse to touch her. “Thank you again for helping me in the ocean. I’ve never been comfortable in it and prefer the sky.”

She gazed at me with a curious glimmer in her eyes once more. “How did you end up falling in like that anyway? I saw a selkie swimming away.”

I groaned. “Long story. Band stuff.” Then I quickly told her about Angus. “Enough about him,” I finished, not wanting to waste any more words than necessary on that slick egomaniac. “I want to hear about you. Where you live. What it’s like. With whom?”

Her gaze shifted downward, taking the corners of her mouth with her. “With my pod.”

“Merpeople?” I questioned.

“Yes.” She turned her gaze toward the sea. “Our pod lives near coral, brimming with sea life. And it’s swimming distance from an island, which I’ve explored a half-dozen times—despite numerous warnings about land-walkers.”

“Meaning…” I pointed to myself. “Someone like me.”

“Right.” She nodded. “Anyone who lives above the ocean.”

“Ah,” I said, the differences between us growing vaster. “Is someone going to be upset you’re gone?”

She bit her lower lip. “Sure. My father.” She grimaced. “He’s the king of our pod and always scolding me for exploring too far and for too long.”

I followed her gaze outward. “You must be far from home?”

She nodded. “Many, many miles away by now.”

As she told me more about her world under the sea, her eyes brimmed with wistfulness. A pang of guilt hit me square in the chest. “Oh. I shouldn’t have asked you to come onboard, should I?”

“No.” She reached across the table and brushed my arm. “I wanted to. I heard music and followed the sound, curious. To see where it was coming from. Who was playing. I wanted to hear more of it— your music.”

A strange delight rippled through me again at her praise. “Do you need to go back soon?” I hated the words as soon as they left my mouth.

She didn’t answer right away but then nodded slowly. “I should…”

A bolt of panic shot through me at the thought of her leaving, but the hesitancy in her voice gave me a sliver of hope. I reached for her hand. “Stay a little longer,” I pleaded.

She brought her gaze back to me, capturing me in her magnificent eyes. “Okay.”

After we ate, I took her hand as we explored the nightlife on the ship. When we passed the entrance to the casino with all its lights and pinging noises, she stopped and gaped.

“What the sweet coral is that?” Her voice had a wondrous edge.

“Casino,” I grumbled. “Place where people gamble their money and lose. The house always wins.”

“The house?” She turned to me with a questioning glance.

“It just means that it might be fun to play, but you’ll probably kiss your money goodbye. Don’t go overboard thinking you’ll walk away richer. That’s about as likely as me sprouting gills and fins.”

She nodded while seemingly entranced by the colorful machines, blinking buttons, and the clattering coins.

“Oh no, we have a live one,” I joked.

Naiya turned to me with delight. “Can we go in?”

I couldn’t deny her anything when she looked at me like that. “Come on. Let’s see if you have some beginner’s luck.”

She didn’t—not even a lick of luck. We’d churned through coins on the slot machines, but damn, it was worth every cent.

I’d never had more fun in the casino, watching her delight as she pulled the lever, wide-eyed with anticipation.

She beamed with delight even if she only had two objects match and lost.

I’d never met anyone like her. She was curiosity, excitement, and sunshine—the opposite of my grumbling, stone-hearted self. And I was completely hooked.

After we’d burned through our remaining coins, we walked back outside for some fresh air. The deck was quiet this late at night, and the crowds had thinned. A warm breeze rolled in, tinged with the salty sea scent, and Naiya tilted her face toward it like she was greeting an old friend.

She leaned over the railing, her silvery-blonde hair with the blue tips dancing in the wind. The moon cast a subtle glow over her, making her look even more ethereal. Like she belonged to the stars as much as the sea. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“The ocean is so mysterious from this angle,” she whispered. “Different but…beautiful.”

“Beautiful,” I repeated in a hushed voice.

She turned to me and smiled. “You’re not at all what I thought gargoyles would be like.”

“How so?” I stepped closer, as the space between us charged with heat.

“I thought they were all big and intense and…intimidating.”

I chuckled softly and pressed my finger to my lips. “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.” I reached for her hand as if on instinct. It felt small and warm and perfect in mine. Without thinking, I brought it to my mouth and brushed my lips against her knuckles.

She watched me, eyelids dropping slightly as her chest rose and fell with quickened breaths. I lowered her hand but kept hold of it.

“I wonder if this is a dream,” I admitted quietly. “That you’ll dive back into the ocean, and I just imagined you.”

She squeezed my hand. “I’m real.”

“Oh gods, I hope so.”

Her eyes, green as the morning sea, locked on mine. My heart pounded yet neither of us spoke. The rush of the waves roared over the low murmur of the ship’s engine.

Her lips parted, eyelids lowered, drawing me in.

I bent down toward her, widening my stance to lean closer. She moved to her tiptoes, meeting me in the space between.

And then—our lips grazed. The feather-light touch was gentle at first, almost mystical, and sparks ignited.

She tilted her head, inviting me closer, and I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck to deepen the kiss.

She let out a soft sigh and slid her little hand over my chest. Over my heart. As if claiming it.

Mine.

My beast didn’t whisper it but declared it with thunderous certainty. She was mine. I knew it in the deep, eternal way that gargoyles felt in their stone. In their wings. As natural as flying.

I couldn’t let her go.

When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers, trying to stay grounded.

“There’s something between us,” I said, my voice low. “Tell me you feel it too,” I urged her.

One thunderous heartbeat followed. Then two.

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice breathy. “A connection.”

Thank the gods I wasn’t imagining it.

“So don’t leave yet,” I urged, cupping her cheeks as I stared into her eyes.

“Stay. Come back to my cabin tonight. I know there’s only one bed.

I’ll find a place to sleep. On the floor.

In the shower. I don’t care where.” I blew out a rough breath, trying to calm my rambling.

This wasn’t like me, but I couldn’t just let her go back to the sea where I’d never see her again.

Lose her forever. I took another deep breath and pleaded, “Just… stay .”

Naiya stared up at me, a silent statue caught between the sea and sky as she seemed to contemplate. As I waited for her answer, my heart drummed with thunderous anticipation.