Page 5 of Siren Problems

LUNA

“ T his is a bad idea.”

Kai ignores me completely, digging through the backseat of her jeep like a raccoon in a glam rock thrift store. She’s wearing a sequin bikini top, cutoff shorts, and has already enchanted her hair to smell like mango every time it flips.

“It’s not a bad idea,” she says. “It’s a vibes-based decision. Those are different.”

“Pretty sure they lead to the same kind of hangover.”

She straightens, grinning, two potion bottles in hand—one a glimmering lavender, the other glowing chartreuse. “Don’t worry, I pre-tested the flirtation elixirs on the kelpie twins. You’ll be fine. Unless you have unresolved feelings. Then it gets... spicy.”

“Kai.”

She waves a hand. “Don’t make that face. It’s just a little enchantment. The magic wears off in a couple of hours. You could use a couple hours of lower inhibitions.”

“Lowered inhibitions got me into grad school with a sea magic thesis and a crush on a cursed fisherman. I don’t need more.”

Kai tosses the bottles in a bag and drags me toward the beach bonfire already glowing at the far curve of the cove.

The party’s already in full swing—witches weaving illusions into the fire, a group of tiefling guys passing around a charmed guitar that only plays sad breakup songs, and someone—probably one of Kai’s bar staff—passing out rainbow jello shots that blink Morse code.

“Where’s Mira?” I ask, mostly so I don’t have to think about him being here.

“Over by the tide tables,” Kai says, gesturing with her chin. “Talking to that nymph intern from the ley registry. I think she’s trying to seduce him with graphs.”

“And Calder?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Kai doesn’t answer.

Because I already see him.

He’s leaning against a piece of driftwood, shirt damp, hair pulled back, looking like he lost a fight with a thunderstorm and won anyway. He’s not mingling. Of course he’s not. He’s brooding in public like it’s an art form.

My stomach twists.

Kai hands me the lavender bottle. “Sip. Breathe. Don’t look like you’re about to scream.”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

She clinks her bottle against mine. “Here’s to science and bad decisions.”

We drink.

I don’t know what’s in mine, but it tastes like lavender, honey, and a very specific kind of regret. My tongue tingles. My skin feels... buoyant. Not floaty, exactly, but like I could say something honest and not immediately want to die.

Which is dangerous.

Because Calder sees me.

His eyes lock on mine from across the firelight. I feel it in my ribs .

“Go talk to him,” Kai whispers.

“I’m not here to flirt,” I hiss.

“No. You’re here to overshare under magical influence. Big difference.”

I mutter something rude and head toward the drinks table instead, heart racing. Mira intercepts me halfway with a fresh spreadsheet and an alarming smile.

“Luna! I cross-referenced the aura spikes from the cliffside recordings with last night’s scanner bursts—look.”

She flips open her data tablet, and yep. Spikes. Deep, harmonic ley pulses. All matching Calder’s presence .

“Mira,” I say, carefully, “have I told you lately that I love your graphs?”

She beams. “Three times, but not with this much emotional sincerity!”

“Great,” I say. “That’s the potion talking.”

And because my luck is pure garbage— he’s there.

Calder steps into my periphery, all tall shadow and tide tension.

“Luna.”

I turn. My mouth’s already open with something flirty or sharp or stupid. But the potion grabs it first.

“You sing in your sleep,” I say.

He freezes.

Oh hell .

“I mean,” I backtrack, “that wasn’t what I meant to lead with—what I meant was you’ve got a...very loud aura.”

His brow arches. “Loud.”

Mira tries to fade into the sand, but not before whispering, “Oh my gods.”

“And complex,” I add quickly. “Your aura’s complex. Like a depressed thunderstorm.”

Kai is behind me somewhere laughing way too hard .

Calder’s expression doesn’t change, but something behind his eyes flickers. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” I say, entirely too fast. “Just emotionally compromised.”

He steps closer. Close enough that I can smell salt and something darker—storm magic maybe, old and bitter. “What do you want from me, Luna?”

And that’s the thing. I don’t know .

I want to understand why the ley lines curl around him like vines. I want to know what’s buried under the waves near his cove. I want to stop thinking about how it felt when he caught me last night.

But what I say is: “I want to do my damn research without you looking at me like I’m a threat.”

He leans in. “You are a threat.”

The air between us hums. The potion buzzes in my veins. I want to punch him. Or kiss him. Possibly both.

“Fine,” I say. “Then I’ll be the most professional threat you’ve ever met.”

I storm off.

Mira follows me a minute later, breathless and vibrating with gossip.

“Okay,” she says. “On a scale of one to magically bonded, how cursed do you think your love life is?”

“I’m not in love,” I groan. “I’m in fieldwork . This is just proximity hormones and bad potion planning.”

But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie.

Because something about Calder Thorne is pulling me in.

And not even magic can explain it.

Later, after Mira finally gives up trying to cross-analyze flirtation frequency with ley field volatility, and Kai is off somewhere slow dancing with a water spirit wearing glow-in-the-dark board shorts, I sit on a driftwood log with my shoes in the sand and the bottle still in my hand.

The potion’s mostly worn off, but the buzz behind my ribs hasn’t.

I catch myself watching Calder again.

He’s moved to the edge of the firelight, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He’s not talking to anyone. Just... observing. Still. Heavy. Like gravity has favorites and he’s one of them.

I hate how easily I can see the shadows in his face now. The way his mouth sets like it’s holding back an apology he won’t give. The way his eyes search the surf like it owes him something.

I take another sip and mutter, “I should be annoyed.”

Because I am. He’s rude, uncooperative, emotionally repressed like it’s a competitive sport.

But underneath all that salt and silence, there’s something else.

Curiosity nips at the edges of my irritation. Why does the ley line bend near him? Why does the sea seem to watch him when he moves? Why did his voice in the dark make my skin shiver in recognition ?

The more I poke at it, the more I can’t stop poking.

Still, I’m not ready to admit that aloud. Not to Mira, not to Kai, and definitely not to myself.

So I toss the rest of the potion into the sand, dust off my skirt, and say firmly to no one in particular, “This is just a magical anomaly. A hot, frustrating, walking magical anomaly.”

The ocean doesn’t argue.

But it doesn’t disagree either.