Page 9 of Siren’s Kiss & Feral Beasts

KAI

THE GODS NEVER FORGET…

M y boots are heavy as they strike the damp dock, the sharp sound cracking through the hectic, late afternoon noise of Port Avaria. The wood vibrates beneath my weight, each step louder than the last as those around me stop and give a respectful nod of acknowledgement.

This territory is under my control. Protection.

Men part without being told, while the few women offering a warm welcome to sailors pause mid-step. Yet it’s the following bout of silence that almost pulls a smile from my face. Almost.

I’m too restless. Have been for the last few days.

That fucking scent.

It haunts me. Can almost taste it in the air at every turn.

Need to find the owner. The stone will tell me.

Eyes track my movement, and I can feel it—the shift in the air as I make my way to the end of the pier.

Behind me, large ships unload merchandise while others pick up deckhands to help transport goods.

I don’t involve myself with their affairs; they pay for my protection, and I keep it transactional unless someone is greedy enough to involve vampires.

I take those vile creatures being anywhere near my property as an insult. Just as I do sirens.

Don’t trust them. Never will.

Been a while since we destroyed one of their transport ships.

My wolf stretches under my skin at the thought, his claws raking my insides, and I make a mental note to come back and inspect the dock’s logs.

A dragon elder steps forward then, a bag in his hand, but I shake my head.

Not now. I’ll be back to speak with him and collect, but I have somewhere to be first.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready, Alpha Kai,” he says, his scales glimmering under his skin. He’s already stepping away while I acknowledge his attention with a firm nod. Nothing else.

I’ve got no time to waste, leaving behind a few of my crew members, my Gamma among them, to keep the ship ready to set sail. He’ll keep them in line, eyes sharp while protecting the treasure I’ve left inside my private quarters.

The Cordis Lux. A siren’s gift to appease her guilt and betrayal.

I’m heading toward the center of town where the local inn and blacksmith have businesses close to each other.

The owners, a husband and wife pair of omega wolves from my pack, keep an eye on things for me.

That, and he does flawless work with weaponry.

He’s the only one I trust to service my swords.

The closer to the town’s center I get, the louder the buzz of merchants and residents becomes. A few witches turn toward me and then look away. Another young female, a fae I’ve never seen before, rushes off in the direction of the textile shop.

I ignore them all, continuing toward the blacksmith. And the closer I get, the more on edge my wolf becomes. Pushing. A low, warning growl builds in my chest, and those around me take heed to the sound, slipping inside their homes and businesses as I walk down the street.

Stand down , I grit out when my fangs drop, piercing my bottom lip while claws rip through the nail beds. My pace picks up. My chest begins to expand with each deep inhale…

“Motherfuck,” I grit out through clenched teeth, my muscles locking into place as that scent hits me once again. Floral and sweet. Bright orange blossoms, warm coconut, and the finest edge of vanilla round out the notes. It spears straight into me, pulling an answering rumble from my wolf.

He wants out. To hunt for the owner of this decadent perfume.

Because it’s the same one from a few nights ago on Isla San Tico during the challenges. Beneath the blood and stench of rogues, I’d caught it—savored it on my tongue while the notes branded itself into my DNA.

I’ve thought about it. I want to hoard it.

Sunshine and sin .

Sweet enough to tempt and decadent enough to ruin.

She’s here.

I’m not coming back tonight, I mindlink Torren, and it takes my gamma seconds to reply with his confirmation. No questions or need for instructions. He knows when to give me space.

Knows the difference between when I want company, and when man and beast want blood.

Two sides of the same coin, and yet, I’m not myself today.

Haven’t been since I came across that sultry scent, the same one that causes me to turn left instead of right and head in the opposite direction of what I’d come to do.

I’m led toward a cliff where a small cropping of cottages sits.

There are three of them, all about the same size, but I’m drawn to the one closest to the edge and with the clearest view of the active water below.

It’s quaint and painted a light blue with white shutters while the flowerbed blooms with varying plants and flowers.

Behind it, there’s a thick jungle of tropical trees and native foliage untouched and respected by everyone on the island. Nothing is to be cut down or eradicated unless its use is medicinal or for sacred ceremonies held by the mages.

“Find her.” Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply as the wolf comes forward.

The change tears through me, spine arching as bones grind and stretch—cracking under the force of my beast’s unleashing.

Muscles swell, cords thickening and ripping through the fabric of my shirt and trousers as heat pours from my skin.

My clawed hands dig into the earth, skin splitting as my nails become black-tipped talons, and a snarl rips from my throat.

Raw. Guttural. The sound carries, and in the distance, I hear the answering growls of my men aboard my ship.

Not that I pay any mind to them or the mindlink from Torren asking me if everything is okay.

Man and beast are of a singular focus.

My jaw distends and teeth lengthen, aching with the need to bite through flesh while black fur spreads, not leaving a single inch of skin visible. The only contrast remains my wolf’s honey-colored eyes and a line of pelt in the same shade down my spine.

A complete shift, I let my wolf form take complete control.

Shaking myself out, my nose flares, picking up notes of orange blossom and coconut.

It’s stronger—clearer in my animal form—and I memorize each one while prowling outside her home.

I circle the property, rubbing my flanks along the walls and porch before licking a stripe across her front door. Predatory. Claiming.

Man and wolf are only satisfied when my scent marks the property, and only then do I release a deep and possessive howl.

Approval and satisfaction resonate through the sound; my intent is clear to anyone who comes near the property, and the resident wolves of Avaria respond with a howl of their own.

It’s loud, filling the town with our brethren’s call, and yet I’m pulled away by the flutter of a warm breeze across my fur…

It’s coming from the center of town. Her.

Lifting my snout high, I inhale deep before taking off. The heavy thud of my paws rattles the ground while my claws leave deep gouges in the ground. Grass and dirt, and then the solid cobblestone streets bear the aftermath of my haste—the weight of an alpha wolf mid hunt.

Nothing registers or matters but that seductive perfume and the hold it has on me.

For a shifter, the mate bond is sacred. A gift from the goddess herself to her children, two beings created from two halves of a soul, that only feel complete when reunited again. She doesn’t make mistakes; each pairing is perfect and meant to bring joy and peace to each other.

You grow. You lean on.

You have a safe place to lay your head and loving arms that don’t judge.

She has to be…

Most of the residents have vanished as I run down the street where the scent is strongest. The few outside are shop owners, mostly wolves themselves, and they bow their heads as I pass. No one speaks, but their submission is sharp and instinctive.

They know. Respect.

An alpha in the midst of a hunt doesn’t stop until his prey is caught.

The wind picks up again, and this time, it feels as if it’s curling a finger in front of my snout, taking me past my original destination. I pass a small herb shop, coffee shop, the inn, and the blacksmith?—

A tavern sits at the end, two men standing outside, each holding a glass filled to the brim with beer.

Its hoppy scent angers me, and I bare my teeth, a deep growl resonating from my chest. The two take a few steps back, never giving me their backs, and I stand guard outside the bar until they disappear around the corner.

Only then do I relax enough to retake the reins, my body shifting back into human form.

Fur becomes skin, and bones realign; my muzzle is now a sharp jaw. My fangs don’t retract, though. Instead, they throb with an urgency I’ve never experienced before.

To bite. To be stained with her blood.

I’m walking toward the entrance, only pausing long enough to grab a pair of trousers from a communal box of unworn clothes kept throughout the town for shifters. They’re on with the zipper half-closed within seconds, but then I’m shoving the door open.

The wood bangs against the opposite wall with a crack that silences the room. Multiple heads turn in my direction, but my warning growl has them looking away as my neck snaps to the right.

I find her automatically.

So pretty. So delicate.

My prey sits near the wall with the sweetest fucking face I’ve ever seen.

Her lips are full and pouty, a soft shade of pink that contrasts perfectly with the delicate slope of her nose.

But it’s her eyes—violet, wide, and bright—that hold me captive.

The shade is unique. Reminds me of something, but then my eyes shift, and I’m taken by a sea of black.

Dark waves frame her face, tumbling down her shoulders and back, and I find myself annoyed with the table keeping me from seeing where each strand ends. My hands clench, fingers twitching to touch the ends before I wrap them in a tight grip.

Lower, and I’m tracing the fragile line of her chin, then neck, pausing on her exposed collarbones. No bite. No claim.

A deep, guttural growl of approval leaves me then while she makes a low clicking noise.

The sound is almost indiscernible, the kind one makes when something sour hits your tongue and your face scrunches up.

Odd, and for a second my brows furrow, but then there’s a subtle shift, pulling my attention toward the space beside her.

She isn’t alone. There’s a mage to her right, glasses low on her nose, and she whispers something I barely catch.

All I can make out are the words trust and lie before she stands, tapping two fingers on the cover of an old book.

Then the witch leaves, giving me a wide berth as she walks past me and out the door.

Most of the patrons do the same.

At this time of day, business hasn’t picked up yet. The rowdier crowd arrives after the sun sets and animals want to play. Not all unmated shifters wait, and sex is a need they give in to.

But more than that, this temptress won’t be here when they walk through those doors.

I don’t share.

“Come with me, little treasure,” I say, holding my hand out to her, palm facing up.

The words are a little garbled as my wolf rises to the surface.

I’m taking in every beautiful inch of her through my eyes, reveling in the way her scent curls around us like a sinful caress. But more than that, we know.

Werewolves are possessive creatures by nature, and jealousy is an unforgiving emotion. It dominates, making the calmest of men into feral beasts when challenged. When their mates are coveted.

And even without the stone, I do not doubt that she is mine.