Page 26 of Siren’s Kiss & Feral Beasts

NERISSA

I t’s been four months since I left him on that beach.

Eight months since Kai’s hands, his teeth—everything that makes me ache—left me trembling for the first time.

Every day I relive that night, memorizing the curl of his lips and the feel of his skin on mine, the way the Cordis Lux burned bright for us, tying us together for life.

But I already knew that.

I was sure of my ties to him the very first time I scented him. The first touch.

The day he held his hand out to me in that tavern, and then when I led him back to my place and gave myself freely and wholeheartedly to him. He claimed my first kiss. My first time.

Everything is his.

Moreover, I hated leaving. More than he’ll ever understand, but as part of my promise, I returned that which I’d taken the first time.

And maybe I didn’t steal directly, Orion tried to claim it, but I held onto it and never let anyone wear it.

Only my grandmother touched it for a short while; her health was on the line, and even that was hard for me to allow.

Jealousy is a powerful thing, and no one can touch what belongs to us.

I’ll be with him soon.

The village is quiet tonight as I make a promise to the gods. This place is a hidden pocket near Bazra that is forgotten by time. It’s tucked away between two cliffs and a dense forest, where no one asks questions or notices me.

Unless they’re supposed to.

Magda’s cousin, Elara, is one of those sharp-eyed people who miss nothing. She keeps tabs on me without ever making it obvious and has taken me under her wing, teaching me harmless spells and how to use herbs, when she isn’t attending her shop.

She also explains passages in her cousin’s book that at first glance make no sense, but with time, I’ve gotten better at reading between the lines.

Like now, as the bell tolls on the shop door alerting her of my entrance, I pick up a bushel of lavender, some mugwort, and a few pieces of clear quartz before plopping myself next to her behind the counter.

“Just tell me if I am right,” I say, opening to the page I’m reading and laying my spoils in front of it. “These three can help me sleep more deeply, calm my mind, and maybe even guide me into a more vivid, meaningful dream?”

“Correct.”

“You don’t sound impressed.” Not a question, and she shrugs. “Fine. Hit me with it.”

“That’s child’s play, and you know it. You’re not a witch, but your abilities and intuition are sharp; don’t deny it. Lean into it.”

“Are you going to wax a poetic soliloquy on traditional herbs and their underrated usage in modern magic?” That earned me a flick to the forehead, but she was laughing, so I call it a win. Then her amusement slips, and I know this face. Serious. Worried. “You have news from Morvane?”

She nods, eyes assessing me. “Claims are circulating that Lord Severus has been… impatient lately. Annoyed by a certain visitor requesting his help in finding a family member.”

“My grandfather?”

“Yes. He’s been making the rounds a lot more frequently than usual.

” Elara hums, shaking her head. “Many in town are comparing him to a caged wolf, of all things. He’s also asking about you, showing pictures, but no one’s seen you with the cloak on.

You’re invisible, and it’s creating problems that go beyond bringing a wayward granddaughter home. ”

My stomach tightens. “He’s getting desperate, but why? What is he planning?”

“I’d know if you’d allow me to do a reading on you. Just a five-card spread would help here.” The deadpan look that follows makes me want to flick her.

“Maybe next week?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Not sure, but I’m not ready to know how this plays out.”

“It’d be a huge help, Neri.” Whenever she calls me that, I’m reminded of Naia.

We grew up together, went to school together, and shared so many milestones.

From gaining our sharp little fangs, to one day waking up with breasts and having to have the talk with my grandmother, Naia was a constant at the palace, always spending more time with us than her family, and eventually she just moved in.

I treated her like a sister. Love her like family.

Yet she betrayed me, but how deep does that betrayal run?

“…besides, according to people who work in the old manor, your grandmother isn’t doing well.

” That snaps me back to the present, a lump forming in my throat, but I remain quiet.

Let her talk. “There are whispers about the stone, the one the women in your family gift to their mates, and the lack of one around King Atlas’s neck.

Not on his son-in-law’s. Not on yours when you lived there. ”

“Why do I feel like this is about to get worse?”

“Because it is.” Elara gives me an apologetic look, one laced with pity. “Nerissa, your grandfather is telling anyone who will listen that you stole it. That you hurt your grandmother out of hatred.”

For the rest of the day, those eight words repeat in my head like a never-ending mixtape.

That you hurt your grandmother out of hatred.

It follows me to the coffee shop, the apartment I’m sharing with Elara, and then on my walk later that night.

The moon’s silver light casts long shadows along the wet sand while salt tangs the air.

It’s soothing and familiar, like a warm blanket you enjoy on cold days, and I keep close to the shoreline so the water can lap on my bare feet.

I try to reconcile the man I knew with who he is showing himself to be.

I try to test my reach beyond this beach, to pick up any lingering messages carried back to me by someone I love. Tonight, there is nothing but silence, until…

A scream rends the air.

It tears through the quiet, and my pulse leaps a second before I take off running. Feet pounding, I sprint toward the sound, sand slipping beneath my steps and I almost fall. It takes a second I don’t have to lose to right myself, but I do, heart hammering against my ribs.

“Elara!” I yell out the closer to her shop I get, rounding the corner, and the world tilts into chaos. My friend, the woman who gave me refuge, is on her knees with a knife at her throat. Shadows move too fast for me to make sense of what I’m seeing—but I know.

Metallic. Old. Patchouli.

Vampires, elegant and cruel, terrorize villagers. They’re breaking windows, smashing doors, and yanking innocent witches into the town’s plaza. Some are pushed to their knees; others are herded to a cart, and I’m frozen in place until something strikes the back of my head.

Pain explodes and darkness claims me.

I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but I wake up in an opulent room so polished it hurts my eyes.

Vintage florals, blood-red silks and velvet—gold picture frames and lighting fixtures with added gold filigree on everything.

Multiples of them in every square inch of this space.

Then there are the paintings: gardens, a wildflower field, and a countryside with more flowers. Lots of flowers.

Everything has flowers.

It all reminds me of something Magda loved to set on her coffee table: a mixture of dried petals, herbs, and sometimes fruits that didn’t really smell like anything and always looked suspicious.

That’s what this reminds me of. Too extra and untrustworthy.

A throat clears, and my head snaps toward the doorway, finding a man dressed in a uniform standing there. He’s human. Of that I am sure, just like the pinched face and cold eyes make him someone I do not want to deal with.

“Come with me,” he says, voice clipped, and my assessment was current. Uptight and rude.

“Where?” Not that he hears the question; the man’s exited and is already down the hall when I rush after him.

The place is cold, overly decorated, yet smooth beneath my feet.

I’m led to what appears to be a dining hall, and all heads turn in my direction, some assessing me with interest while others look bored, the latter of which turn away and back to being fed on.

Vampires lounge like aristocrats throughout the room, their naked donors displayed like trophies. A copper tang perfumes the air.

And at the center of it all is Lord Severus.

I know it’s him because of the way the entire room surrounds him.

He sits at a dais, chair high-backed and in a bloody red, with my grandfather standing mere feet from him, staring right at me.

He’s also in human clothes, a dark blue suit that isn’t fitting him right, especially in the shoulder area.

“My child. I’ve missed you,” Grandfather says.

After being given a subtle nod, he approaches me as my eyes survey the room, looking for a possible exit, but that search ends when pain blooms across my face.

What I thought was him coming to give me a fake hug is a literal slap in the face with enough force that I feel blood on my bottom lip.

I lick it, and multiple hisses come from the room, blood red eyes staring.

“This is unlike you, Nerissa. This is the act of an ungrateful, selfish girl.” King Atlas is looking greyish, his cold eyes murderous, especially when he doesn’t see the necklace around my neck. “While your grandmother suffers, you hide here, keeping the only thing that can save her.”

“Or yourself?” That response earns me another slap, harder this time, and I stagger back but don’t fall. My fists clench at my sides. Rage and fear surge within me. “If anyone has been the problem here, it’s?—”

“Enough.” One word, and the room freezes as Lord Severus stands, pushing the woman on his lap to the floor, and walks over to me.

In his hand, there’s a white handkerchief, and without asking, he brings it to my lips.

He dabs at the cut, his pointer finger skimming across a time or two.

A drop of blood smears across it and he stares at it for a moment before licking it slowly, savoring it with a groan.

“Simply delicious, Nerissa. You truly are a beauty.”

“I apologize for all the trouble my granddaughter has caused, old friend. I’ll be taking her home now and?—”

“If you lay a finger on her again, I will forget our treaty and collect my debt.”

“Understood. I acted out of fear and concern.”

“Well, see you don’t make that mistake again, Atlas. Don’t tempt fate twice.”

“Of course. Again, my apologies.”

Through their exchange, I remain quiet. Don’t say a word when I’m dragged out of the room by the arm, the cool air outside a much-needed reprieve from the cloying scents inside.

Flowers, powders, and a bloody patchouli.

It’s like my mind is shutting down after the display inside the room.

Between the slaps and being defended by a murdering vampire, I’m not that far from hysterics.

I’m also worried about Elara. Where is she? Did they hurt her?

Not that I’m able to think about it for long, as I’m knocked out again. This time, though, they drug me with Gods knows what, and I pass out, but not before I catch my grandfather speaking to someone.

“…we’re not asking you to be a mistress forever, Naia. Just until after she gets pregnant and gives birth. After, we’ll do what I should’ve done with her grandmother and lock her up.”

“I don’t want to hurt her, King Atlas. I just want my mate.”

“And you’ll have me, baby. Just help me impregnate the little brat first.”