The Siren's Mistress (Water Brides 1)

Chapter III: The Song

I am restless the entire night, thrashing and turning, sleep being difficult after Laki shoved me into the sea. Every time my eyes close, I feel as if I am suffocating and sinking into darkness, the waters swallowing me whole. My chest feels close to bursting, and just when I think I have died, I wake up coughing and expelling nothing from my lungs but air. My throat seizes up, burning me from the inside out.

I suffer like this many times during the night. I am propelled by night terrors with wheezing fits until I am left staring at the ceiling in the darkness once I have caught my breath. My mind and eyes are weary now, my chest heaving up and down heavily, an invisible pressure weighing it down as I stare at my thatch roof and begin to think the reeds are moving like the waves at sea.

It is hypnotizing, drawing me in, and my thoughts travel back to the Siren and the way he had saved me.

If he hadn't been there, I would be dead...

I can't help but think he is handsome, and then there are his eyes I keep remembering. I usually consider brown eyes to be plain and dull, something unattractive, but his have flecks of gold that appear to be constantly moving. Very exotic. They remind me of the glow of the fireflies and their first flight on summer's eve, surfing the winds over the dark seas, hugging the island. The sight is breathtaking and peaceful – a calming serenity.

My father shared this nighttime view with me and in return, I had shared it with Laki, something so precious, on a little hill, a clearing amongst the trees overlooking the magic. We had our first kiss right there, and I had secretly given him my heart.

But Laki had betrayed me.

Deceived me.

Tried to kill me.

I turn in bed, curling into my blankets, my heart heavy, and I look out the window when the curtains flutter open, revealing the tossing sea.

They settle back when the wind stops blowing but only till the next gale pushes them from the sill, revealing the place my eyes are drawn to, noticing what wasn't there before.

A white shell.

He was here and could possibly be watching me right now, but I am not frightened of him like I was. If he is here, it is comforting. I get up and move to the window to pick up the shell, which is still wet, and I hear in the distance a song that makes me go still and compels me to look at the sea, toward the rocky point. The voice is masculine and deep, haunting and beautiful. It is hard to describe the singing as I am unable to decipher its words or language or if it is something entirely different, maybe sounds that we humans could never produce.

The sound is so close that it feels like the notes echo in my ear, seducing and luring me to come to the owner of the voice, the power of compulsion growing with each second that passes. Stronger and bolder, the melody resonates in me, crashing and rolling in my ears until it is the only thing I can hear. I am deaf to all the other sounds around me. The song finally consumes me. I picture myself at sea, on the beach with gentle waves lapping my toes, and I wade further in, happy and willing to be near him.

The water quickly envelops me, starting with my feet, going up my legs, then waist, breast, and lastly my head before it seeks entry into my mouth that I allow. I am not scared anymore; the sea does not burn my throat or lungs; instead, it is soothing, washing over me with a calmness I've never felt. My red hair sways with the current, moving and floating, spiraling around, creating its own dance with the sea.

Once I am far from land, I see his eyes within the darkness, inviting but cold, and I do my best to swim to him, pushing myself from the sandy bottom.

I want to be near him... I would do anything to be near him.

Eventually, I reach him, not questioning how it is I've learned to swim. After all, this is all but my imagination. He holds his hands out, catching my arms, and brings me close. I slide my hands up his, beginning to learn him through touch as he does the same to me. We are so different from one another, especially our lower halves.

Everything is innocent until he shows me his teeth in a smile, the singing abruptly stopping. It is then he bites into my neck, blood exploding around us and covering us in a red blanket that rises to the surface.

I scream and struggle against him, knowing with his teeth on my neck I am going to die. And as life begins to fade out of me, I suddenly wake up, my eyes slamming open, only to be doused in a room full of sunlight.

My gaze searches my room, my body soaked with cold sweat, and I discover it was just a very realistic dream. Nothing is out of place. Though a stinging sensation draws my attention to the hand I have fisted.

I loosen my grip only to find a broken shell and blood within my palm, the pieces of it cutting into my skin.

I have broken his second gift to me...

I sit up, staring at it, disappointed by the fact I clung to it a little too tightly the night before.

There can be no repairing it now; it is beyond fixing.