Page 6 of Siren’s Kiss & Feral Beasts

NERISSA

“ L ost in thought, Princess?” I’m pulled back to the present by a sudden, gruff voice, and my body turns to face the intruder.

Smile a little cocky, Orion stands closer than I expected.

A few feet from me, he has broad shoulders, average height, and a dark blue tail that matches his eyes.

In contrast, his hair is white—almost silver—beneath the sun’s rays. “What’s got you so preoccupied?”

His eyes traverse my body, up and down from my fin to my breasts.

They’re covered in my favorite kelp silk bra with shell accents polished to look like glass beads in shades that match my tail.

Orion doesn’t hide his attraction, and I’m uncomfortable, but that’s nothing new. It’s been the same since we were young.

Back then, it was his pompous attitude.

Now, he’s overconfident and pushy. Forgets that in the hierarchy, he’s below me.

He’s the son of Grandfather Atlas’s friend, groomed from a young age to be our general after his father stepped down.

Not that he fought for or earned the position; his reward came simply from being the son of a loyal advisor and court member.

The same man who stepped in when my grandfather became king, personally chosen for that position.

“Morning,” I say, my voice low as I glide backwards, a practiced smile in place.

“It’s past noon, Nerissa. Way past morning.”

“I just woke up, so for me…” I trail off, the meaning clear.

“Would it make you happy if I said it?” In response, I arch a brow but remain quiet. Orion exhales roughly at that, the scales along his chest vibrating. “Good morning, Your Majesty.”

“Was that so hard?” I ask, but before he can reply, I continue. “And to answer your earlier question, I’m thinking?—”

“About?” I don’t call out his rudeness for cutting me off. Instead, I swim around him toward the entryway. I’ve never liked being alone with him. Opportunist and a chauvinist. “Where are you going?”

Pausing at the entryway, I look back at him from over my shoulder. “Is that truly any of your business?”

“I’m not the enemy.”

“Yet, you’re delaying my trip to the kitchen.”

“No one told you to sleep in.”

“Is that an admonishment I detect?” My tone is a little sharp, but like everything else, it goes right over his head.

“Where were you last night?”

“You’re overstepping, General. Remember your place.”

His shitty grin says he enjoys my annoyance. “Be nice.”

“Orion, I’m five seconds from?—”

“Your grandfather requests your presence in the dining hall, Nerissa.” He swims toward me, skimming his arm against my side before stopping outside my room.

There, he waves a hand toward the royal feast chambers.

Without a word, I move to pass by him, but his hand shoots out and takes hold of my wrist. Shuddering is my immediate response, but I fight the urge back and stare at his hand on mine.

“I picked up your favorite moon leaf cakes with sea grapes.”

My favorite? Yes.

Do I trust him? No.

“Thank you, General.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

He moves closer, but I shake my head. “Now let go.”

“Of course.” A squeeze to my fingers, and he lets go. I swim away, ignoring the way his shadow clings to me. Orion follows me from my private quarters to the dining hall, my stomach twisting with hunger and trepidation. Why does Grandfather want to see me? “Let me get the door for you.”

There isn’t a door, but I don’t call him out on it. The thick, beaded curtain hangs from the opening to the floor with its opaque white glass, creating a subtle song. Each shift in the current brings a different set of notes, but they combine into my grandmother’s favorite song.

A land-born one. From Avaria.

I’m the only one who knows this, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips as it plays. It’s sweet yet haunting; a melody full of want and need that’s unreciprocated—of what ifs.

I slip into the room, careful not to let the swish of my tail echo too loudly.

Don’t thank Orion, either, and stop beside my grandfather, who’s already at the head of the table.

This dining room is private. Meant to give the royals a sense of normalcy and share a meal, but it’s always felt like a strategy meeting rather than downtime.

Grandfather’s eyes snap to me, sharp as a blade, before softening. “Nerissa, my child. How are you?”

He doesn't look a day over forty for a merman over a hundred years old. We age slowly. Mermen carry their years gently, time passing by us like a current, leaving faint traces on our faces while never stealing our beauty.

Bending a bit, I kiss my grandfather’s cheek before placing my forehead against his.

We stay like that for a few seconds, a recognition of our familial bond and love—even if at times, I don’t like the man.

The things he does. He’s charming when it’s to his benefit, demanding of his subjects, and the biggest advocate for a patriarchal society where merwomen live beneath the forced protection of the crown and their king.

Is he also loving to those he cares about? Yes.

Is he faithful to my grandmother and our queen? Yes.

Is he open-minded or believes in change? No. Absolutely not.

He’s kept the crown by luck and my mother finding her true mate, the son of a chancellor from the western sea; he moved here from a smaller pod in the Sea of Eternal Night with no delusions of grandeur or ulterior motives, yet loyal to their king.

My father has no desire to rule; he simply loved my mother until she took her last breath, the end of a harpoon embedded deep in her chest.

I was only two years old at the time.

“Everything okay?”

His question brings me back to the present, and I smile. Nodding. “I’m well, just a bit famished.”

“You got in late?” This time, it’s not a question but a direct observation. One that needs a response he won’t dig too deep into. “One would say early morning, to be exact.”

“I did, but with good reason.” He waves me forward to take a seat, and I’m left with no choice but to accept the chair pulled back by Orion. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Princess.” Grandfather smiles at the display with fondness in his eyes, a clear desire for me to accept this match.

One he’s mentioned in passing before, but I worry the time for a more direct command is coming.

To him, a mate is a compromise between two people who find gain through the union.

Me? I’ll only accept a fated match. My soulmate.

“It’s good to see you two getting along.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” I ask, picking up one of the sea grapes and popping it into my mouth.

The skin bursts beneath my teeth, sweet and tart all at once, like a ripened plum kissed by salt.

They’re tiny, but their taste lingers on my tongue, and I can’t help the honest grin that stretches across my lips.

I’m reminded of afternoons with my father after a fighting lesson; he always brought some as a reward.

“Of course, you would.” Grandfather’s hand pats my arm, his tone indulgent. “But I’m still curious about your whereabouts last night, Nerissa. Where were you?”

“I might’ve done some recon work last night.”

“And did you find anything?” My nod has him exhaling roughly, his scales vibrating along his arms and chest. “Where? What did you see?”

“I followed a pirate ship?—”

“By yourself,” he thunders, his hand slamming atop the carved coral table.

A crack forms, and Orion shifts closer, but my grandfather turns his head and stares him down.

His general falls back immediately, his head lower, but I still catch the way his hand clenches when our king turns back to me.

“Answer me, Nerissa. Who gave you permission to get close to those filthy mutts?”

“Did you or did you not want me to find it?”

“Yes, but?—”

“I saw it.” Immediately, pride dances across his features, but I catch the undercurrent of calculation beneath it. “He has it.”

“Are you sure you saw it?” It says a lot that he didn’t reprimand me for cutting him off a few seconds ago. “Who has it now?”

“Yes.” Behind my eyes, I see it again. Alpha Kai Daire. The stone around his neck. Those blazing eyes looking out toward the sea, unable to find me. “It called to me yesterday, this unexplainable pull, and I followed my gut. They were on the Isle of San Tico?—”

“Who wore it?”

“Kai Daire.”

“Where?”

“On a chain.” Do I omit mesmerizing the rogue and sending him in on purpose? Yes. The less he knows, the better. “But I left before any wolf could pick up my scent.”

“You’ve done well, my child.” His once tense fingers start drumming on the table.

There’s no anger on his face, but more of a calculated expression.

“You’ve surpassed my expectations. You notice things others don’t, more so than your grandmother.

” For a second, I feel a sharp pang of pain in my chest, and I know it’s his.

Why he’s projecting, I don’t know, but it runs deep.

As king, he has the ability to absorb and exude emotions.

To help his subjects when in distress, but right now, I feel him.

“She’s getting weaker, Nerissa. Every day she’s without that stone—the magic stolen—her soul and body wither. I’m worried about her.”

“I am too.”

“Blessed be the gods who illuminated your way.”

“We need it back before it’s too?—”

“Already harassing my daughter, Atlas?” Orion bristles at my father’s lack of proper address, but knows his place and stays quiet.

Or it could be jealousy. While he’s reminded not to step out of line, we don’t adhere to the same rules.

Dad heads toward me then, stopping to kiss my forehead before swiping one of my cakes.

He pops it into his mouth, sending me a wink before I can complain.

“At least let her eat before the interrogation.”

Grandfather’s in such a good mood now that he pushes the plate closer to me. “My apologies, sweetheart. Please eat.”

“Thank you.” Picking up a piece, I chew slowly, savoring the rich balance between salty and sweet.

It’s a perfect consistency, not too moist, even though we’re underwater and its exposure should ruin the pastry.

The cream filling is a mix of seafoam and sea grapes, giving it a gentle, lingering sweetness with a kiss of salt.

Then, there’s the delicate shell leaf wrap holding it together.

It’s soft yet resilient, and a favorite of mermaids.

“Your grandmother’s waiting for you,” Dad says after I’ve eaten two palm-sized cakes. I’m already pushing back before he can finish, rushing to give a quick bow and grab the plate as I head out of the room. All I catch at the end is, “…sitting room.”