Page 14 of Siren Problems

CALDER

T he wind howls outside the beach shack, but inside, it’s too quiet.

Too charged .

Luna paces the warped wooden floor, hair wild from the storm, cheeks flushed from the cold—or maybe from the fight we just had.

“Say something,” she demands.

I don’t.

Because if I open my mouth right now, I can’t tell if I’ll speak...

Or sing.

She turns on me, eyes blazing. “You can’t just look at me like that and then run. You don’t get to kiss me like that and act like nothing happened. If I’m fate—then face it. If I’m danger—then tell me. But don’t pretend like this isn’t real. ”

My control snaps.

“I can’t pretend,” I growl, crossing the space between us in two long strides.

I don’t kiss her gently.

I kiss her like I’ve been dying for centuries and she’s the only breath I’ll ever get again.

She gasps into my mouth, and I drink it in, pushing her back until her spine hits the wall, my hands gripping her hips, thumbs brushing under the edge of her shirt. Her skin is hot. Human. So alive it hurts.

She moans against me, clawing at the hem of my shirt, yanking it upward.

“You feel like a storm,” she pants.

“I am one,” I whisper, and when she bites my lip, I shudder.

Her hands are on my chest, exploring the scars I thought I’d buried under salt and silence. My claws stretch, barely restrained. My skin darkens where her fingers graze—crimson marks where lust and power blur.

I slide my hands beneath her thighs and lift her. She wraps her legs around me, instinctive, like her body was meant for mine. I carry her to the rickety cot without looking, never breaking the kiss.

The mattress groans under us, but neither of us cares.

She straddles me now, her knees braced on either side of my hips. Her shirt’s gone, breasts free and beautiful. My pants are halfway down, her mouth trailing fire along my throat.

“You don’t scare me,” she whispers, lips against my ear.

“You should.”

Her hand wraps around my cock, and I hiss through my teeth.

She strokes me once, slow and bold, and says, “Prove it.”

I flip her beneath me with a growl, pinning her wrists above her head. Her pupils blow wide. Her breath stutters.

“Say it again.”

“Prove it. Ruin me, Calder.”

My cock throbs against her thigh. I groan as I drag my fingers down her stomach, watching her writhe beneath me, helpless and so goddamn beautiful it’s a curse all its own.

I dip my fingers between her thighs, across her lips, and finally into her pussy . Hot and ready and trembling.

“You want me to?” I ask.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Please.”

I don’t tease her long.

I line my cock up and push in, slow and steady, watching every flutter of her lashes, every gasp she can’t control.

Her pussy clenches around me, wet and tight and perfect.

She arches, mouth falling open. “Oh... gods —Calder?—”

I brace on one elbow and thrust deeper, rolling my hips until I’m fully seated in her, every inch buried, her body trembling under mine.

“You’re not afraid?” I rasp.

“No. Never. Just don’t stop— please don’t stop. ”

I fuck her slow, deep. Letting it burn and build.

Her hands claw at my back. My name tumbles from her lips like a prayer, a curse, a confession.

And it’s not just sex; it’s centuries of longing cracking open.

It’s me— Calder Thorne , prince of silence, cursed and lost— loving someone in the only language I have left.

Her legs pull me closer, tighter. I feel myself unraveling.

The curse pulses, hungry, old magic rising in my throat, tingling beneath my tongue.

“Luna—” I choke. “I— I'm going to ? — ”

She cups my face, breath ragged. “Let it go.”

I shudder, every thrust now edged with something deeper. I grab her face and let go.

I feel her pussy clench hard as I spill inside her, her face twisted in pleasure.

"Calder!" she cries, holding on tight. I coach her through it, feeling my own muscles relax as the shocks of orgasm fade.

Her breath is still unsteady when I pull the blanket over us. The fabric clings to our skin, damp with sweat and storm air, but she doesn’t move away.

She stays curled against me like we belong here. Like we didn’t just break a centuries-old curse boundary with our bodies. Like this isn’t a bad idea riding a lightning bolt toward a disaster I should have stopped.

But gods, it felt good.

No— right .

I can still feel her pulse against my ribs, the soft sound of her breathing syncing with mine. Her hand rests against my chest, fingers splayed like she’s trying to map out a new country. A place she doesn’t know yet, but wants to.

“Are you okay?” she asks again, quieter this time.

I nod before I think. The lie’s automatic.

But something in the way she shifts—pressing closer, not letting go—tells me she doesn’t believe it. Not completely.

Her fingers stroke down the curve of my shoulder, then lower, thumb brushing the faintest mark where my skin shifted during the heat of it. My body always wants to change in moments like that—reveal the monster under the man. But this time, she didn’t flinch. She didn’t freeze.

She touched it.

And kissed me harder.

I don’t know what to do with that.

She exhales slowly, her breath feathering against my collarbone. “You’re thinking a lot.”

“Yeah,” I rasp.

She doesn’t push. Doesn’t tease.

Just lets the quiet stretch between us like something safe.

I stare at the ceiling, watching storm light dance through the cracks in the shack’s roof. The rain’s softened now—gentle, almost forgiving.

But inside me, a storm is still building.

Because what we just did wasn’t just sext or magic.

It was real.

Unshielded. Raw. The kind of connection I’ve spent lifetimes avoiding. Wanting.

Dreading.

And it scares me more than anything.

Because for a moment—one perfect, aching moment—I wasn’t a cursed prince or a siren relic. I wasn’t the council’s burden or the sea’s prisoner.

I was just Calder.

A man in love with a woman who sees him, touches him, and doesn’t recoil from the sharp edges.

I close my eyes.

It felt like taking my first breath. But joy like that? It doesn’t last. Not for me. Not when the sea remembers everything and the curse coils beneath my ribs, patient and possessive.

I don’t know what will trigger it next.

My voice? Maybe want or love?

And Luna—she’s not just a part of this now. She’s at the center of it. The relic reacted to her. The altar recognized her. And when I was inside her, when she called my name with nothing but truth in her voice, the power rose.

It didn’t lash out, but it stirred, and I can’t let that happen again.

Because if it breaks free, it won’t be my life it takes.

It’ll be hers.

I feel her shift against me, laying her head on my chest.

“I felt it too, you know,” she whispers. “That… thing between us.”

I stay still.

“If I’m wrong, tell me. But it didn’t feel like a mistake.”

My throat burns.

She lifts her head slightly, meets my eyes. “It felt like a beginning.”

And there it is: the knife, twisting slow.

Because I want to say yes.

I want to kiss her again, pull her beneath me, and make it mean something more than curses and fate and ancient warnings wrapped in prophecy.

But the fear’s louder than the want and it says: This ends with you alone again.

She brushes my jaw with her fingers, soft and patient. “You’re allowed to want this.”

“No,” I say, hoarse. “Not if it risks you.”

“I’m already in this,” she says gently. “You pulled me out of the deep. Let me stand beside you now.”

Her words undo me.

Because she means them.

Every syllable.

And I don’t know if that makes her braver than me, or just more foolish.

But either way, I pull her closer.

Let her rest her head back on my shoulder.

And for one more breath... I pretend the sea’s forgotten us.