Giving It Up for the Gods (2 page)

Neptune’s stooges! She’d planned to give it up tonight…to anyone, really. Then Tall, Dark, and Deadly walked in and dominated the bar. Siren instinct fired up inside her, and she’d never been so hot or so horny. She wanted to strip him and taste his cock, but the mermen had already found her. The goon’s grip dug into her shoulder. She shuddered, twisted out of his grasp, and backed off. No way was she going anywhere with stinking mermen. “Get your hands off me. You’re leaving a bruise. Your lord and master likes his solstice treat unblemished. I hear he turns nasty if we come pre marked.”

Joe obviously smelled rotting fish and glanced around to find the source. Eight men, all with odd webbed hands, surrounded Lindy. He stopped serving and walked to her side. “You heard her. Let’s calm things down here, friend. Have a drink on the house and let Lindy Lou get ready to sing.”

Bill Smith, with his fringes and John Wayne attitude, shoved his way to her side. The lead merman towered over Bill, but he refused to back down. “Is he bothering you, little lady? Either let her go, or we’ll take this outside.”

Neptune’s goon squad pressed closer, surrounding her and Bill. If she protested, someone would get hurt, and humans were so…breakable. She didn’t want trouble, but, warrior to the core, she wouldn’t accept her fate as inevitable.

For Joe’s sake, she’d play along and escape later. “All right, I’ll come without any fuss. Just leave my friends alone.”

This year her sisters hadn’t drawn lots to pick one of their young to toss to the wolves, or, more truthfully, a stinky old man with barnacle-encrusted flesh. Apparently Neptune had asked for her by name. For them to find her so quickly, he must have an oracle guiding his seek-and-retrieve team. That meant however fast she fled—and Sirens were sneaky fast—they’d find her.
My best option: lose my virginity PDQ. I’ve just got to find someone worth spreading my legs for
. Now that Tall, Dark, and Delicious had swaggered into her life, she had options. It was surprising how knowing she was about to be publicly screwed added extra urgency to her plans.

Her temporary submission sat badly. So would seeing the regulars or Joe hurt. Resigned, she turned to surrender, but she hadn’t reckoned on Bill Smith’s platoon of former, very human, girlfriends. As regular customers, they’d become Bill’s friends rather than his lovers. They saw him at Lindy’s side, surrounded by Neptune’s goon squad, and closed in—handbags at the ready.

Chaos erupted. Bill’s exes—all six of them—rushed to help him. They pulled mermen’s hair or kicked their shins. The women’s high-pitched squeals drowned the mermen’s curses. Then one of the merwarriors hit back.

Their boyfriends leaped to their women’s defense, fists at the ready. Joe calmly slammed a bottle of wine on the lead goon’s head. Unaware mermen were super-strong sadistic killers, more patrons piled in, eager to help their very own songstress. Lindy let rip with a note way above high C. It shattered some sensitive mer-eardrums along with a few nearby beer glasses. Any human too close looked kind of shell-shocked. The mermen nearest to her dropped to the floor, their hands clasped over their ears.

Then those two hotties waded into the mix. One step, one punch, and a merman went down. Stayed down too. The hotties hurled bodies aside as if they weighed nothing. Lindy could drool over their fighting moves for hours, but they made a beeline toward her end of the bar.

She edged toward the fire exit. If she made it before those web-handed wonders caught her, she’d be out of here so fast her footprints would scorch the floor.

The fight took on a life of its own. A flurry of kicks, and Bill fell. As she watched, women screamed. Men yelled. And still Bill lay on the floor. She couldn’t leave him, not after he’d tried to help her. She ran to his side, but as she dragged him back to his feet, someone staggered backward and slammed into her. She fell on top of Bill.

Air exploded from her chest. A bar stool toppled onto her back. When a body landed across it, she felt a couple of her ribs shatter.

Lindy couldn’t move, couldn’t gulp fresh air into her lungs. She knew she had to hotfoot it out the back door before Neptune’s minions grabbed her. Her talons extended, and her body tensed for battle, but all she could do was shove at the stool on her back. Sirens were peppy, strong, and powerful. The stool slipped sideways, taking a few of the bodies with it.

She shoved Bill from under the morass, but as she tried to follow, two more bodies crashed into her, taking her down again. Her generous breasts flattened in a pool of beer, and she grunted in pain. One of the club’s bouncers tripped on the upturned stool and sprawled out over her feet. Another backed into the pile of bodies and toppled onto it. The heap kept getting bigger, and Lindy was the bread at the bottom of a people sandwich.

The sheer weight pinned her to the floor and stopped her breathing. If she couldn’t inhale, she couldn’t hit the high note that’d strike fear in human hearts. One blast of her Siren-strength music, and she’d send everyone running for cover. Reaching back, she grabbed someone’s leg and used her Siren strength to heave them off. One body less. A flip of an arm, another flying body, and the weight on her chest lessened a little. She reached back again, ready to throw another overweight idiot off her back. All she could reach were a few strands of a customer’s hair. She tugged so hard they came away in her hand.

The hair’s owner rubbed his new bald patch, bellowed, and punched her arm. “Bitch. That hurt. I’ll fucking kill you for that.”

Chapter Two

Lindy was a Siren, damn it. That made her a Grade A survivor, and she wasn’t going down without a fight. Lack of oxygen made her weak. Determined to get out from under the people pile, she groped one-handed behind her. A drunk threw a bar stool. It shattered beside her and sent splinters flying everywhere. She ignored the one in her arm and concentrated on staying alert.

Vision fading, lungs screaming, she grabbed a broken stool leg and flailed at the bodies grinding her face-first into the floor. A masculine bellow told her she’d hit something.
Good
. A wake-up call might make them stop using her as their personal mattress. These people had rushed in to rescue her, and now she hurt them to survive. She hated herself for it, but her life was on the line here. Finally she clawed herself free, dragged Bill under the table, and glanced across at the fire exit.

Just ten yards. Just like making a first down. An easy run for a super-fit Siren like me
. Just as she reached the bar, one of the bouncers backed into her. This time as she fell, her wrist bent back almost 180 degrees.
Damn it, I just heard the bones snap
. An inferno blazed through her nerve endings, and she prayed she didn’t throw up. She wasn’t crying…really.
Who am I kidding?
Pain made her eyes water.
Hello. Siren. Tears. Not a good mix. Time to toughen up and get out of here.

She heaved herself up and leaned against the bar, panting heavily. Her broken ribs ached right along with her shattered wrist, and her head throbbed. Lethargy spread through her like a warm, comforting hug. Unconsciousness beckoned, but to come out of this unscathed, she had to stay sharp and run.

If she passed out, someone would ship her off to the nearest hospital. Joe, probably. Only, if they discovered she wasn’t human, she’d end up in some government facility. Maybe the British equivalent of Area 51, if there was such a thing. If that happened, she might never see daylight again.

She called on her Siren training to help ignore the pain.
So not working. Maybe I should have paid more attention in school
. She felt as though lightning speared her wrist. Just a few more yards, and she’d be home free. She just needed to rest a moment first. She slid back to the floor, her back against the bar. When she gulped in a lungful of air, the pain from her ribs made her gasp. Dizzy and nauseated, she slowly lifted her head.

Two biker boots—solid, black leather with thick soles and long laces—filled her gaze. She followed them upward, licking her lips as she stared at her rescuer’s muscular thighs. Injured arm cradled against her chest, she threw back her head to clear the hair from her face. She’d almost suffocated. Relief made her shaky, and it didn’t help that Tall, Dark, and Handsome towered over her, his expression half sympathetic, half fierce.

Breathtaking male. Damn, but he’s even more stunning close up.

Then the unfeeling jerk dragged her upright and dumped her behind the bar. “Stay there and be quiet.”

Neptune’s balls, it hurt when he pulled her about like that, especially when that people pile had cracked her ribs and shattered her wrist. And who did he think he was, giving her orders? Sirens weren’t the shut-up-and-do-as-I-say type. Once she caught her breath, she’d hit that shrill note that would shatter the mermen’s eardrums; then she’d leave.

Lindy’s rescuer dived back into the fight, clearly intending to keep the merwarriors at bay. Apparently deciding to deal with him first, a huddle of mermen swamped him like American footballers falling on a ball at the end of a play.

A Siren’s lullaby rose up in Lindy’s throat, but she’d never be able to hold the long, low notes, not with broken ribs. Tall, Dark, and Domineering had saved her, and she owed him. Sirens weren’t known for their common sense, and broken bones notwithstanding, her personal code demanded she help him.

Before she moved, Tall, Dark, and Deliciously Sexy threw off the mermen as though they weighed nothing. He hauled his surfer friend from the battle and towed him toward the bar. His intense gaze fastened on Lindy.

Almost as threatened by him as she was by Neptune’s minions, she felt her heart hammer and pound. And where was Joe? Then she spotted him through the open door that led to the back room. He was talking on his cell phone. Probably ringing the police. Except for her driving license, she lacked the layers of ID that human society demanded. So that was her cue to leave.

She edged away from the battle, but Tall, Dark, and Do-As-I-Say shot Lindy a furious look. “I said stay there.”

Her glare would curdle milk.
Sirens are fierce predators. He should back down and apologize, not ignore me and concentrate on his friend.

He shook his buddy and yelled, “Feel better now, Saul? Or do you want to beat on a few more mermen? We’ve got the girl, so let’s leave.”

“Fire exit,” Lindy panted and pointed over her shoulder.

As the hotties flanked Lindy and scanned the room, the smell of rotting fish alerted Lindy to the merman creeping up on her from behind the bar. She tried to poke her fingers in his eyes, but it was too much of a stretch for a pocket-size Siren like her.

“Accept your fate, and come with me,” he hissed.

Lindy grimaced. “You’d think mermen would bathe occasionally. Has anyone ever told you that you stink? And do you think up cheesy lines when you’ve nothing better to do than hurt women? Or is that what counts as an original thought for you? Get lost, mermaid.”

He raised his fist. “Merman. I’m a freaking merman.”

She kicked him in the balls; then Tall, Dark, and Bad-Tempered vaulted the bar and shoved her aside. His fist pulped the merman’s face. “Funny. You scream like a girl.”

The blond one, Saul, slid over the bar, smiled at Lindy, and smirked at his friend. “Seems you’ve caught a feisty one there, Jase.”

Her rescuer rolled his eyes. “Trust a Siren to start a fight. Okay, where’s the back door again?”

Jase? What sort of name was Jase? And why was he angry with her? She hadn’t started this fight, and she definitely hadn’t meant for anyone to get hurt because of her. And thanks to her broken ribs, every breath she took was torture. The last thing she wanted was to advertise her imminent departure to Neptune’s fail-at-the-first-hurdle posse.

Jase snarled again. “You’re a sodding Siren. They usually never shut up. Where’s the bloody back door?”

No one spoke to her like that. Ever. She might look like the weakest female in the room, but Sirens were as tough as they were beautiful. Right now she didn’t feel either. Her red-brown hair had escaped its usual ponytail, and it fell in lank hunks around her shoulders. Fringing hung off her denim blouse like miniature lassos. Her suede skirt was trampled and ripped. The heel of one boot was broken, and she could feel her mascara running down her cheeks. Even so, she’d done nothing to deserve his scorn.
And, oh great, some idiot’s poured a pint of beer on my clothes. I stink like last night’s party leftovers.

No way would Jase want to fuck her. Not that she’d let him unless he apologized first. Her ribs were already healing, but the compound fracture of her wrist would take a little longer. She tossed her usually perfect locks, but they were a tangled mess. She’d have stalked ahead, but the broken heel on her boot made walking difficult. She stopped to kick them off, but her bad-tempered rescuer snapped, “No time for that.”

At least he hadn’t sworn at her again. If she didn’t owe him, she’d pour out a scale of sharp notes to set his teeth on edge. She held up her foot to show him the broken heel, but he scooped her up and hung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She gasped as a spasm of pain hit her ribs and thumped hard but one-handed at his back. He didn’t even seem to feel it.
How useless can one Siren be? I feel like a fly attacking the swatter.

He smelled of oranges, pine needles, and freshly baked bread. If she was hungry, he’d make a damn good meal. Even upside down, she appreciated his muscular butt. Jase was as objectionable as he was sexy, but she’d definitely give up her virginity for all that male gorgeousness.

When he opened the back door, she couldn’t resist taunting, “See? That wasn’t so hard. Oh, maybe the neon sign over the exit gave you a clue. And guess what, you just have to push it, and it opens. Joe’s phoned the police, so a bit of urgency wouldn’t go amiss.”

His quick jog down the stairs did nothing to help her broken ribs. Every step knocked air back out of her lungs, but at least she was finally getting the hell out of Dodge. When they reached the car park, surfer guy jumped on a lean, mean, chrome-plated motorbike while her rescuer set her down next to a 1950s classic bike.