Siren Song (3 page)

The idea of simply dropping her off in the New York harbor and leaving her to her own devices now seemed heartless and unworthy of him. If she truly stopped singing, there was no reason they couldn’t both live in Annapolis. He was hesitant to suggest it, knowing how vulnerable she was. Still, he gently offered: “You could do a speaking tour. Share your experiences so that other soldiers are better prepared. I could arrange for you to talk to my classes.”

“I got the impression that if I ever showed my face in Annapolis again, you were gonna hunt me down, Captain Ahab.”

“That was before I realized you were…”
Different,
he thought. “Willing to change.”

“You could have just asked me to stop singing,” she said.

He doubted that. “Would you have believed me if I didn’t take you for a swim?”

“Maybe not, but you didn’t have to kidnap me from the middle of a show to do it.”

He wanted to argue that she’d left him no choice, but that wasn’t true. From the beginning he’d treated her with nothing but contempt. She hadn’t deserved it. Once, like all tritons, he’d been unmoved by siren songs, but then he’d been an idealistic fool. Obviously not much had changed because he found himself turning the boat around, chugging back toward Annapolis.

The hour was late when he held out his hand and helped her down the gangplank. They stood there awkwardly for a few moments and then he said, “Let me walk you home. It’s the least I can do.”

“Yeah.
That
makes up for everything.”

He fell in beside her on the outside of the street, and they walked together beneath the awnings of overpriced restaurants and quirky shops that were typical of Annapolis. “Oh, man,” she said, all but pressing her nose against the glass of Uncle Bob’s Fudge Kitchen. “I could really use some chocolate right now.
That’s
my drug of choice, by the way, in case you were interested.”

“The empty bottles in your apartment gave a different impression.”

“Okay, maybe I drink too much.”

“Listen, I know I’ve been—“

“A judgmental, overbearing jackass?”

Not the words he’d been about to say, but he took it. “I’m usually more of a gentleman.”

“I just
bet
you are,” she said, turning under the lamplight to look at him with curiosity. “Must get tiring after a while. All that impulse control. You’re an accident waiting to happen. The first time I saw you, sitting at the back of the room watching me, I remember wondering,
‘What must it be like to be
 
so…in control?’
It made me sing better, I think, trying to break through your walls. Trying to make you applaud at the end of a song.”

“Is that all you wanted to make me do? You’re sure you weren’t trying to get me in the water?”

“I’m sure,” she said, wrapping the towel tighter around her. “I wanted to get you in bed, not dead.”

There was no flirtatious wink. No meaningful eye contact. She just dropped that bomb on him as if she had no idea that it would send a jolt of arousal through him. “You wanted to get me in bed?”

“Sure,” she said, doing a double take. “You don’t
seriously
need me to stroke that huge ego of yours, do you? You’ve gotta know how hot you are. For a guy your age, I mean. What are you, like a hundred in triton years?”

He found himself smirking. “I age like a normal man on land.”

“See, I wanted you even before I heard you say weird stuff like that.”

He arched a brow. “Why?”

“I dunno. You looked like you needed me.”

This rankled. “Needed you?”

“Sure. You’re the kind of guy who thinks he’s gonna save the world from bad guys—or bad girls—and you don’t even realize that you’re the one who needs to be saved.”

He scowled. “I don’t need anything.”

“Yes you do. You need someone to rock your world. I knew it the first time I saw you. All uptight, wearing your uniform in a civilian bar when you shouldn’t, folding your napkin in a precise square and sipping at what—water?”

“Water’s good for you.”

“Maybe you should try something that’s bad for you once in a while.”

Sirens were bad for him. Very bad for him. So why did he find himself inching closer to her? She didn’t shy away and somehow ended up in his arms. He’d have blamed it on her powers, but she wasn’t singing. She wasn’t trying to seduce him—at least he didn’t think so. “Chloe, what’s going on here?”

Her lips quirked at the corners. “Either another example of my spectacularly bad taste in men, or a little thing called sexual chemistry.”

“After everything you’ve been through, Chloe, how can you—“

“What am I supposed to do? Learn my lesson and throw on a burka? No way. Not gonna happen.”

“I just find it hard to believe that you’re so…well-adjusted.”

Chloe snorted. “You mean, other than my alleged alcoholism?”

Okay, he deserved that. “I just think you should take better care of yourself.”

“Look, after about three years in fetal position, I managed to stand back up on my own two feet. Am I all healed up? No. But I don’t have to wear my pain on my sleeve. I get to party if I want. I get to be sexy if I want. And I get to be attracted to men if I want.”

Sirens weren’t attracted to
men
so much as they were attracted to the
power
they had over them. They were creatures who took all the rage twisting inside them and turned it against others. But the spell Chloe wove over him now was hopeful and pure. Born of something other than her voice. He found himself leaning over her, inhaling the subtle notes of citrus under the scent of seawater. “You’re shivering, Chloe.”

“Not because I’m cold.” Her eyelashes lowered, her lips parted, wet and trembling, begging to be kissed.

Somehow, even his dented self-control prevailed. It was a Herculean effort, but he pulled away. Her eyes fluttered open and a blush swept over her cheeks. “Did I just read this wrong? I thought—“

“I can’t kiss you, Chloe.”

“You
can’t?
”

He shook his head. “A siren’s kiss destroys a triton, robs him of his resistance.”

She sighed, tucking wet tendrils of hair behind her ear. “That’s a major buzzkill.”

He was going to have to let her go. Physically, emotionally…although sirens were no longer supposed to be his concern, he found that this one was. “Chloe, if you want me to set something up for you at the Academy—“

“Thanks, but, I’ll figure something out. I’ve got to…I dunno. Is there gonna be a funeral for the midshipmen?”

He nodded. “Maybe I’ll see you there. Take care of yourself.”

Once inside, Chloe leaned on the door and closed her eyes. This should have been one of the best nights of her life. Instead, her show was ruined, she had to give up singing, she was some kind of ancient monster, and the first guy she’d felt an intense attraction to in a long time was a kidnapping merman who couldn’t even kiss her.

Awesome.

The whole night seemed like one long nightmare, but one word kept echoing through her.
Siren.
It just couldn’t be true. The men that had attacked her—
they
were monsters. Not her. She still didn’t believe that she’d hurt those midshipmen. If she let herself believe it, she really
would
crack. But she couldn’t just ignore the possibility, either. She was going to have to find a way of proving her guilt or innocence, one way or another.

Sophia must have heard Chloe come in, because now she rushed out into the living room crying, “Oh, my God, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Chloe mumbled.

“Jay’s still out looking for you! What happened?”

Right now, Chloe was exhausted. She just wanted to close her eyes. She waved Sophia away with some vague promise to explain everything in the morning. Then, pushing a pile of clothes off the end of her bed, Chloe curled up under the blankets and fell into a deep, dark sleep.

Alexandros stared down at the lanky, tattooed body of Chloe’s drummer as the authorities hauled him out of the water. Two of the officers talked about the rash of drownings and how they’d caught a couple of kids shooting up and daring one another to jump in the river. “Some kind of deadly new game in the nightclub scene,” was the conclusion.

For once, Alexandros was hard-pressed to disagree.

Someone must have called Chloe, because she came racing up the cobblestone walk wearing only a pair of denim shorts, a tank top and a pair of flip-flops. The paramedics on scene were just about to zip the body bag closed, but they weren’t fast enough. Even from where the police had taped off the area, Chloe glimpsed the dead man’s face.

“No, no!” she cried, as the police held her back. Then she saw Alexandros, marched over to him and yanked him away from the crowd. “How can this be happening? You tell me why I would kill Jay! He was my friend!”

Alexandros ground his teeth. “You didn’t do this, Chloe. You
couldn’t
have. He went missing last night after your show and turned up dead this morning before I even turned the boat around. You were with me.”

“Then what happened to him! What happened?”

“I don’t know, but you didn’t kill him.” And Alexandros had to admit to himself that if she didn’t kill this one, she probably had nothing to do with the midshipmen, either. He’d jumped to conclusions. He’d been tormenting her for a crime she never committed, making her pay for another woman’s sins, and he felt sick over it. “You’re innocent of all this. I’m sorry.”

At that, Chloe burst into sobs that racked her body, a mixture of relief and grief. Annapolis was a tourist town; there were always lots of gawkers, so he shielded her with his body until she said, “I have to tell Sophia.”

Since the day he’d tracked her down, he’d done nothing but mess up her life. He’d ruined her show—maybe her career. He’d behaved abominably toward her. He’d frightened her, made her relive her painful past and made her believe that she was a murderess. If he hadn’t come along, she may have never had to know that she was a siren. How was he supposed to make up for that?

He walked her back to her house and when she went inside, he sank down on the front porch, his head in his hands, trying to make sense of it all. The police hadn’t suspected foul play, so why had he? He didn’t used to be this kind of person—the kind to always believe the worst. He’d like to blame it on living amongst the land-dwelling mortals, but he feared the truth was buried much deeper inside himself, a fault in his character that he didn’t want to examine.

He didn’t know how long he sat there watching the traffic go by. The outside of Chloe’s house was as disorderly as it was on the inside. A few abandoned potted-plant projects adorned the sills. A bicycle lay on its side against the house. A crystal wind chime with a broken hook hung lopsidedly beside the door. And yet, something about the place said:
music is made here.

Eventually, Chloe emerged from the house. Her eyes were bloodshot. “She wants to be alone.”

“Are you sure? Wasn’t Jay her boyfriend?”

“Sort of. But Sophia’s really strong and stoic. It’s just…I have nowhere to go.”

He took her to his house. He didn’t know what else to do. The walk wasn’t far, but Chloe was silent the whole way. He took her round back, to the hill overlooking his private dock. Then he opened the gate and she passed through the neatly trimmed hedges and into the shelter of his back porch where she settled into the swing as if she belonged there. “I—I really need a drink. Do you have any beer?”

“No.”

“Vodka. Tequila. Rum?”

“That’s not going to help,” he said.

“You’re just saying that because you probably don’t have a drop of liquor in your whole house.”

That was true, but if he thought it would do her any good, he’d find some. “I’m saying it because you’ve surrounded yourself with people who just let you float adrift.”

“Don’t diss my friends,” she hissed.

He held up his hands in surrender. She needed someone in her life to steady her, but he obviously had no right. “I’ll get you some lemonade.” When he returned from the kitchen with a pitcher, he found her crying again. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “There’s no good consolation for a lost friend. I should know that better than anyone. The only good thing to come out of this is, well, maybe you don’t have to give up singing after all….”

She nodded, using the backs of her hands to wipe away her tears as if she were ashamed for him to see them. Then, putting on a brave face, she reached to pluck one of the lilies by the side of the porch and peered into his picture window. “Nice digs you’ve got, by the way. I didn’t know Naval Academy professors made that much money.”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, it’s not hard to accumulate wealth.”

“You keep it so neat and clean, too. I bet if I put my hands on the glass and left a smudge—“

“Don’t,” he said, and enjoyed the tear-streaked smile it put on her face to needle him.

But the smile was short-lived. “So, how
did
Jay drown? He was a hard partier. A screw-up He got in fights and did crazy things. If he was the only one, I’d buy that it was an accident. But there were the midshipmen, too. How is this happening?”

“When I heard a siren’s song the same night that two men drowned, I assumed the worst. But coincidences happen. It’s a hot summer. Maybe it’s just what it looks like. Reckless young men paying a terrible price for bad judgment.”

Chloe shook her head. “No such thing as coincidences. Things happen for a reason. The things that have happened in my life may test me, but I’ve gotta have faith that they’ll help me end up somewhere good.”

He didn’t believe that everything happened for a reason. At least, not a good reason. After all, everything that had happened to him had led him to a life in exile. But what he said to Chloe was, “I want that for you. I want you to end up somewhere good.”

“Where I am now isn’t so bad,” she said, nestling under his arm, the warmth of her breath on his shoulder. Her face was so close that he could make out tiny freckles on her nose. He wanted to keep her here, in his arms, and make sure that nothing ever harmed her again. And as her long dark hair fell across his chest, he couldn’t help but touch it. It slipped through his fingers like the silkiest sand.

When she looked up at him, it was with a soft, inviting look that made him groan. “Chloe…”

“I know you can’t kiss me,” she whispered, twirling the orange lily between her fingers. “But…can you…do the rest?”

The electricity of her suggestion arced through him. His mouth went dry, his belly tightened and blood coursed hot through his veins. He wanted her badly, but his aching need was tempered by the circumstances. “Chloe, you’re upset. I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Maybe I want to take advantage of you. Would you mind?”

His hands skimmed over her breasts in answer. He caressed her, kneaded her hips, then let his hand drift between her thighs. She trapped his hand there, slowly grinding her hips. Her wetness seeped through the scratchy fabric of her shorts and onto his fingertips. The feel of her desire for him was like a wave of pure physical need. It crashed over him.

Madness.
He grabbed her, pulling her so that she was straddling him on the swing. That’s when she pulled away and he realized his folly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I got a little carried away. I’ll stop.”

She made an indelicate sound and threw back her head so that he could see the pulse of her heartbeat at the base of her throat. “I don’t want you to stop!” Crossing her arms over herself, she peeled her tank top off and flung it into his yard.

For a moment, he was paralyzed at her brazen act. Then, any thoughts he might have about the propriety of having a half-naked woman on his porch were crowded out by the two most perfect breasts he’d ever seen. High and pale and tipped with tight rose-pink nipples, they shimmered in the sunlight and mesmerized him. It took him several moments before he could even speak. He bent his head to capture those sensitive peaks between his teeth, then stopped. “Chloe, I can’t—“

“You can’t kiss me…
anywhere?
”

He wanted to drag his teeth along the curve of her shoulder. He wanted to let his tongue tease at her earlobes. He wanted to feel her creamy breasts against his lips. To taste the salt on her skin. But he shouldn’t even have allowed himself to be this close to a siren, much less put his mouth on her. “No. Not anywhere.”

“So, you can’t…we can’t…”

She looked so crestfallen, he found himself saying, “There’s more to sex than kissing.”

Her eyes met his as she straddled him, rocking slowly against his erection. “Then teach me. You’re an instructor, aren’t you?”

He felt his lips curve upward in the semblance of a smile as he took the lily blossom she’d all but crushed in her hand. He lifted it to her bare throat, imagining it was his lips, petal soft on her skin. She gasped and threw her head forward to watch, a dark cascade of hair falling like a curtain between them. He trailed the flower between her breasts, lower, to her stomach, where her little gemstone belly ring winked in the sunlight like a flirtatious lover. She shivered as the flower petals slipped across her skin, leaving a glistening trail of golden pollen behind them. He could smell her earthbound scent again. Something like orange blossoms and sunshine. Something uniquely hers and utterly foreign to the sea. Still, he wanted her more than any woman he’d ever met in the deep.

She panted near his ear, the whispered riptide of desire, grinding against his lap in a slow and steady rhythm that drove him crazy. Still, she seemed to be the tortured one. The flower petal against her nipples made her quiver. He enjoyed that, so he kept drawing slow circles on her body until she cried, “Oh,

God, just take me to bed! Take me somewhere. Just take me.”

He stood up, carrying her into the house. His bed was made up in crisp white linens, and when he laid her down on it, he said, “Don’t move. I just want to look at you for a moment.”

She sprawled, her hair tumbled and wild on the bed behind her. Laid out like a banquet for a starving man, her flushed skin invited him to taste and smell—to devour. She didn’t move except to lift her hips when he unfastened her shorts and pulled them off.

Given her stage presence, he would have expected to find dark lacy panties or maybe cheetah print. Instead, he found pink cotton with a tiny satin bow at her hip. He hadn’t anticipated that. The things about her that didn’t make sense only made her that much more alluring.

She turned her face to kiss the lily when he dragged it over her cheek. Then her belly trembled as he pulled it lower still, to the parts her panties covered, and she wet her lips, undulating under the lucky flower. He added his breath to the mixture, blowing on her skin, concentrating as if raising goose bumps on her flesh was the most important thing he’d ever done.

She moaned, clenching her hands. “Aren’t you going to touch me?”

“What if I can make you come without touching you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Don’t you dare!”

He laughed and let his fingers flow over her body. Then, only after she’d slipped off her own panties and given him a peek of pink, wet folds, did he climb over her. She was frantic now, pulling at his shirt, all but popping the buttons. She pulled his undershirt off and flung it. There wasn’t time for him to get his pants off. As soon as he’d unzipped and freed himself, she started stroking him, trying to guide him inside her. It seemed important to let her do it.

She had the reputation of a hard-edged, young rocker. Yet, the way she opened up for him, pale thighs spread wide, she seemed like the purest, most innocent thing in the world above or below. He glided into her, then held himself still, glorying in the feel of her body clenching him. Being inside her was as awe-inspiring as the morning sun rays breaking through the surface of the ocean to illuminate the deep.

Suspended over her body, he nudged against some soft spot deep inside her that elicited a gasp. He did it again, and she gasped louder. He liked that. He also liked the way she became wetter when he did it a third time. She trembled all over as he tortured that sweet spot. His instinct to plunge into her and find his own release would have made him abandon this slow stroking, but the way she squirmed and cried out made him hold back.

She had a natural sense of rhythm, but every time her hips found it, he changed the pace until she was groaning, begging, pleading. Cursing him, too. All at once, she surrendered to it. The breath went out of her, and her ankles locked at the small of his back and he heard her scream. That voice of hers, with all its clarity and beauty, captured her own rapture perfectly in one shattering note that told him, for just this one moment, he was not
alone.