I Chose to Die (Siren Suicides, Book 1)

Chapter 7. Brights' Boat

"Can you hold my hand,

Can you hold my heart?

Can you hold my soul,

I can't be apart..."

A warm hand touches mine and I choke on the last note, nearly shrieking, hunger piercing me with a jolt. I open my eyes. Light sears my retinas with excruciating clarity. Visions filter through a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes-neon instead of pallid, pencil-sharp instead of blurry. I blink through tears. My song dies at once, because two things happen.

Number one, I can't believe my eyes.

"Hunter?"

Because it's Hunter's hand that's touching mine, Hunter's face that's blinking inches away from mine, Hunter's breath that warms me. On some level, I knew. Only Hunter's soul could sound so deliciously homey and overpowering at the same time, only his soul could bring me endless comfort. My heart rate speeds up to its maximum possible beats per minute and threatens to pop my eardrums. I'm both horrified and ecstatic to see him.

And number two, I realize what's gone wrong. When Canosa turned me into a siren, she made direct eye contact with me, which must be an essential part of the turning process and, probably, the feeding process too. What did I do? I tried killing with my eyes closed. Thank God.

"Fuck! I thought you were some random guy, I almost killed you," I say, and fall down on my ass, unable to hold my balance anymore, and thanking my poor memory instead of cursing it, as usual.

Of all the things Hunter could say or do, he grins his crooked smile, with that familiar dimple in his right cheek. He looks nonchalant, as if we just met up on the Aurora Bridge and decided to go for a boat ride to observe rain from the open lake on a cloudy Monday morning. A fancy new way to skip school.

Hunter brushes hair out of his face, blinks off raindrops, and looks at me with his blue eyes. All I see are his irises, two mini Ferris wheels, spinning. Spinning to the magnificent Summer season concerto by Vivaldi, a clear undertone of his soul. It makes me dizzy, makes my senses twist into a funnel and curl.

"Say something! I hate it when you're quiet like this. How did you know...what the hell are you doing here, in..." I notice the finely polished paddles, the maroon paint of the bench Hunter is sitting on. "...my father's boat?"

"Um...being snuffed out by a siren?" He swallows hard, his pupils enlarged to the size of quarters. "You look awesome, by the way." His chest heaves up and down, he licks his lips.

I realize both my T-shirt and my hoodie are missing, having been torn off on violent contact with the water. The only item of clothing I have on are my favorite skin-tight, faded jeans, wet and clammy against my skin. Which means that I'm naked from the waist up.

"Oh, my God, I forgot. Stop staring!" I hug myself, covering my chest with my arms. Hunter's expression doesn't change, it's as if he's now looking through my hands, his gaze steady, drooling.

"I said, stop it! Don't look!" I cringe at hearing my own voice. My body is a natural sound amplifier for it. Yelling will take some time getting used to.

"I wasn't looking, I swear." He gulps and focuses intently on his rain jacket zipper. In one swift motion, he unzips it, takes it off, and throws it to me, pulling the hood of his cotton sweatshirt over his head. Raindrops quickly stitch dark dots on his shoulders.

"But what about you? You'll get soaked in no time. It's just cotton."

"I'll be fine."

"No, you won't. You'll catch a cold or something."