Page 12 of Siren Problems

CALDER

T his is a mistake.

I know it before we’re even in the water. Before Luna wriggles into her dive suit with a grin and says something flippant about sharks and romantic trauma. Before she flashes me that stubborn, damnably brilliant look that says I’m not afraid of your ghosts.

She should be.

The shipwreck sleeps beneath the cove’s far edge, wrapped in seaweed and old spells, sealed in silence that was once sacred. It was a royal vessel—mine, technically—before the sea turned on us. Before I turned on it.

And I’m bringing her here to scare her off.

To show her what loving me really costs.

But the second she dives in after me, smooth as a siren herself, my chest tightens.

Because deep down, I’m not sure I want her scared.

I want her to see me.

But that’s the worst part, isn’t it?

She already does.

The wreck looms up from the sand like a beast’s ribcage—splintered timbers and twisted metal etched in coral and regret. Magic clings to it like algae, low and hungry.

Luna hovers beside me, eyes wide behind her mask. Her hands move—graceful, efficient. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. The comm charms between us hum quietly, synced to the leyline she anchored to the boat.

“I thought this would shut you up,” I mutter, voice muffled through the spell-linked comm.

She flips me off. Cheerfully.

Gods help me.

I lead her down the sloped hull, hand brushing the worn wood as if it might still breathe. There’s a hatch near the stern—half-collapsed but passable. Inside, everything’s warped by time and pressure. Silk banners hang like jellyfish. Broken chests glitter with salt-kissed coin.

And at the center...

A sealed crate, still glowing faintly. Still locked. Still marked with the royal binding rune—three spirals, curved into the trident’s crown.

Her aura touches it, and the seal responds.

The light flares gold.

No.

“Don’t—” I bark, but she’s already moving.

Her hand grazes the edge.

The crate hums like it remembers her.

She jerks her hand back, startled. “What was that?”

I float toward her, faster than I should, heart hammering.

“That seal shouldn’t recognize you,” I growl. “It’s attuned to blood. Royal lineage. Siren-born command.”

She stares at it, then at me. “So you mean it’s locked to people like you ?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did it light up when I touched it?”

That’s the question, isn’t it?

The one I don’t want answered.

I swallow hard. “Because something’s wrong.”

She frowns. “Or something’s right. Maybe I’m supposed to help you.”

“No,” I snap, harsher than I mean. “You’re not.”

“Why? Because I can ?”

“Because if you do, you get pulled into this. ” I gesture to the wreck around us, to the relic pulsing between us like a heartbeat. “You think this is some cool side quest? This wreck holds the last remnants of a war you haven’t even read about.”

She doesn’t flinch.

Just floats there, eyes searching mine like she’s reading footnotes on my soul.

“I’m not afraid of your past, Calder.”

“You should be.”

“No. I should be afraid of losing you to it.”

That undoes me.

Because for all the magic and curses and wrecked empires...

That’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone say they didn’t want me lost.

We surface in silence.

Rain falls soft on the water.

She doesn’t speak. Just climbs onto the boat and peels off her mask, face drawn and wet.

I join her a moment later, unsure of what to say.

What to do.

She towels off slowly, then looks up. “So... shipwreck second date?”

I stare.

She shrugs. “What? It’s romantic. Death, danger, emotionally unavailable men. Real classic vibes.”

Despite myself, I laugh. Just once.

And she grins like she won something.

Because maybe she did.

Because this time, I don’t feel completely alone in the deep.

The crate pulses again.

Once. Twice.

Then surges .

A violent spike of magic ripples through the water—sharp and wrong, like a heart skipping a beat. The pressure shifts instantly, crushing in on us like a whirlpool wrapped in static. Luna jerks backward as the seal flashes from gold to a deep, angry red.

“ Move! ” I shout, grabbing her wrist.

We launch upward in tandem, the water vibrating around us like it wants to keep us. I yank her behind the wreck’s hull, shielding her body with mine just as the relic bursts with a wave of raw energy.

Stone cracks. Currents whip. The wreck moans like something alive and betrayed.

I hold her tight, one arm around her waist, the other braced against the hull.

Her chest heaves against mine. Her fingers clutch my side.

And for a second—for one dangerous, fleeting second—I forget everything.

I forget the curse.

The wreck.

The centuries I’ve spent coiled in silence and shadows.

Because she’s here. Warm and furious and so real it burns.

And gods, I want her.

Not like a prince.

Not like a siren.

Not like a broken thing desperate for absolution.

But like a man .

A man who could kiss her without consequence.

A man who could hold her without the ocean trying to take her in exchange.

She looks up at me, lips parted, pupils blown wide from the shock and the magic and maybe from me .

“Calder...” she breathes, barely audible through the charm.

I want to kiss her.

I almost do.

But I let go instead.

Push her up toward the surface before I can make it worse.

By the time we breach, the tension’s still there.

Coiled. Unspoken.

On the boat, she rips off her mask and rounds on me, breathless.

“What the hell was that? ”

“Backlash,” I growl. “The seal isn’t meant to open. Especially not to you. ”

“Then why does it want to?”

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

Because I’m still reeling from the fact that—for a moment—I wanted to stay in that wreck. Pressed against her. Drowned in her.

Not because of a curse.

But because I could’ve loved her .