by Kyle, Celia
Vampire Siren
Real Men of Othercross
Celia Kyle
Marina Maddix
Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About the Authors
Blurb
Is it her siren's song that lures the sexy vampire? Her body? Or her heart?
As a sultry siren, Cora Murphy can have any man she wants—and her interfering mother has a long list of eager candidates suited to her daughter’s station as fae royalty. But Cora just wants to live a normal life, working at Othercross as a Sentinel and hoping one day a man will fall in love with her instead of succumbing to her mystical—and totally bogus—allure.
Of course, that can’t happen if she never lowers the glamour she uses to prevent every Tom, Dick, and Harriet from following her around like love-struck puppies. Even her best friend, Deo Nicolaides, must have been hit by her siren song, because the young vampire keeps trying to get her into bed. As tempting as that might be, Cora doesn’t dare give in to her primal desires. She’d rather die alone than live the rest of her life knowing Deo’s love isn’t true.
But what if it is?
Chapter One
Cora Murphy glanced at the clock and grimaced. Lunchtime, yet she wasn’t hungry. Pulling the band out of her golden hair, she shook her head to let it fall around her shoulders and then efficiently smoothed it back into a perfect ponytail.
This was troubling. She should be hungry. On a normal day, her stomach would be growling up a storm, but not after a week of battling yet another virus. Her lack of appetite was just another sign of her slowly deteriorating health. One more thing to keep from her mother or she’d never hear the end of it.
Cora glared at the files on her desk, her mood darkening. There was nothing to be done about it. It was the curse all sirens bore, and the same choice as always lay before her. Drop the glamour and give in to her nature in order to find a mate, or wither and die at a relatively young age.
Cora sighed and straightened. “Holly!”
Her assistant, Holly Woodbriar, appeared at the door of her Othercross Arcane Judiciary office a moment later along with Kelly Holloway, Cora’s new intern.
“She said Holly,” her assistant said. “Not new girl.”
“She said Kelly,” the witch retorted. “Not old chick.”
Cora winced, suppressing a smile. No sense encouraging their not-completely-unfriendly office rivalry. Most days it was amusing, though some days it only served to exacerbate her exhaustion.
“Ladies,” she said.
“So not a lady,” Kelly snorted, pushing past Holly to get to Cora’s desk first.
“Which is why you’re currently serving a court-ordered sentence as Cora’s flunky,” Holly teased. “So yeah, I guess that’s working for you.”
Kelly rolled her eyes and then began filing her nails with an invisible emery board. “I was ordered to be her flunky. What’s your excuse?”
“Holly,” Cora interjected, cutting off whatever snappy retort her assistant was brewing. “Here are the resolved files. Kelly, any messages?”
Kelly abandoned her invisible nail file and began pulling crumpled bits of paper from her pockets, tossing them in the air. They floated around her head in a holding pattern until the witch had removed every piece of paper she’d stuffed in whatever pockets she could find. Then she patted herself down, frowning.
“Three, four… missing one. Be right back.” She darted from the room.
Kelly was a maelstrom waiting to happen, which made her far from boring. Cora leaned over to watch the witch, curious in spite of herself. Kelly rushed to the credenza that was acting as her desk and pulled a piece of paper off the stone horn of a gargoyle sitting on it.
Good grief, why had she been saddled with a teenager disguised as an adult? Iris Holloway was the Sentinel who’d sentenced Kelly for the offense of casting a truth spell in open court, yet she’d been assigned to Cora as an unpaid intern as part of her punishment. Under normal circumstances, Iris would have taken on Kelly herself, but she had the whole baby thing happening, so the duty had fallen to Cora.
Not that Kelly was a bad person or even bad at her job, she was just… unique. The witch rocked her own boat, floated her own air bus, sang her own tune. Cora admired her for it, but in the workplace, she expected more professionalism.
“Kelly,” she said when the witch returned with the last message, “why do I have to keep reminding you that the office gargoyles are people, not office furniture? You can’t use them in place of cork boards, for siren’s sake. If you’re not careful, one day we’ll have to stay late, after the sun sets, and Ronun will not be made of stone anymore. He’ll become one truly pissed off, real-life gargoyle, and then where will you be?”
Kelly opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a cool, contralto voice. “You can’t expect a witch to behave with any decorum, dear.”
Cora pulled in a deep breath before all of the oxygen was sucked from the room by the devil herself. “Mother.”
Aquaria Murphy—ó Murchadha when she was feeling pretentious, which was pretty much all the time—slid through the doorway and then air-kissed Cora’s cheeks. Taller than her daughter, the fae princess was dressed in a silk-wrap blouse and flowing slacks. Her neck, wrists, and ears were dotted with freshwater pearls and blue topazes. A stylist had swept her pale blonde hair up into something that wouldn’t move in a tornado and her makeup was expertly done, not glamoured. She was the epitome of a royal princess, and the woman spent far too much of her time trying to get Cora to emulate her.
“What are you doing here, Mother?”
Aghast, Aquaria reached for her pearls—she actually clutched her pearls!—and then slid a haughty glare at Holly.
“Oh, shoot,” Holly said with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry, Cora. I forgot to tell you that your mother scheduled lunch with you today.”
Cora imagined a thousand different ways to punish Holly for this oversight. The girl knew Cora needed hours to mentally prepare for Mom-time. She was tempted to beg off, to use her assistant’s screw-up as an excuse to get out of the inevitable nagging, but she didn’t care for the way Kelly glared at her mother. Not that she blamed her, but the last thing she—or Kelly—needed was to anger fae royalty.
“Let’s go, Mother,” Cora jumped up and grabbed her arm.
“Dear, you don’t have to drag me like a commoner,” Aquaria huffed as they left the office. “It’s undignified.”
“You have to stop antagonizing my staff,” Cora hissed, taking her frustration out on the elevator button. “Someone’s going to hex you one of these days.”
Aquaria dismissed her daughter’s concerns with a flick of her baubled hand as the doors opened to them. “If you could manage to hire worthy people, I wouldn’t have to. I really don’t understand why you lower yourself to—”
“I’m not lowering myself, Mother.” She breathed deeply, reciting the names of her ancestors to cool her temper.
“You’re the only daughter of a selkie prince, Coralia. You shouldn’t be mingling with such lackeys. They don’t even show you the proper obeisance.”
Cora cringed. It had taken her weeks to get her coworkers out of the habit of curtsying every time she entered a room. Weeks.
“Mother, I’m part of the judiciary and an arcane public servant. I’m their equal, and they are mine. I don’t want anyone genuflecting in my presence.”
“They will never be yo
ur equals, Coralia.” Aquaria’s voice chilled and her blue eyes turned icy. “You honor them by even making the ridiculous suggestion. But then again, I suppose all of this is my doing. I raised a gracious daughter. Perhaps I should congratulate myself. So many royals are elitist these days, out of touch with the rabble.”
“Oh, indeed. So elitist.” The sarcasm flew right over her mother’s head.
Cora steeled herself as they entered the cafeteria, a pleasant smile plastered on her face as she chose a sandwich she didn’t want and listened to her mother’s sniffs regarding the meal options. Sure, it was cafeteria food, but it wasn’t that bad. Most of it was made in-house with quality ingredients, but it certain wasn’t fancy. Of course, none of it appealed to Cora at the moment, but she wasn’t about to let her mother know that tidbit.
“Really, dear, the sacrifices you make. Honestly, I’m appalled. I’ll have our chef come over and prepare something for you tomorrow. I’m certain the, um, cook here won’t mind ceding him some space in the kitchen.”
Cora sighed as she made a show of unwrapping her sandwich. She wasn’t even sure what was in it, but damned if she wasn’t going to choke down every bite. “No, Mother. No chefs, for siren’s sake. Was there a reason you wanted to meet—” she mentally groaned. “Oh, my god, will you stop inspecting the lemonade and just drink it already?”
Aquaria sneered at the plastic cup in front of her. “I don’t need crystal, but couldn’t they at least serve it in a real glass? Does OAJ not have the funding it needs? Perhaps I should get your father involved.”
Cora swallowed the dry mouthful of nondescript sandwich and tried not to show her frustration. “Why are you here?”
Aquaria took a sip of her lemonade, grimaced like she’d just drunk battery acid, and then pushed it aside. Folding her hands primly on the table in front of her, she looked at her daughter underneath long, fake lashes.
“For a very important reason, Coralia. Your future.”
“My… future.” She put the sandwich down, not even pretending to be hungry anymore. “Poseidon hear me.”
“And may his trident strike true,” Aquaria said, finishing the old saying out of habit. “It’s high time you found a mate, dear. You aren’t getting any younger despite your youthful appearance. For siren’s sake, Coralia, you’re almost forty.”
“Mother…”
“You know as well as I do that no siren has ever lived past the age of fifty without being bound. Why, just the other day I heard about the daughter of a well-respected family who had to scrape the bottom of the barrel in order to find herself a proper mate. Not even a full-blooded fae, but a half-breed.”
“Oh my god, Mother,” Cora hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had heard her tone-deaf mom. “That term’s so offensive on so many levels.”
Aquaria ignored her daughter, as she always did. “The poor thing almost died because of the Curse, Coralia, and I refuse to allow that to happen to you. Not to our family.”
“Mother, you know how I feel about—”
“I know, I know,” Aquaria said, adding an eyeroll for effect. “You want a mate who loves you for you and not because he was lured to you by your natural abilities. But dear, you’re a little long in the tooth to be so picky.”
She wasn’t wrong. With every illness Cora’s body struggled to overcome, she recovered with less and less strength, barely able to maintain her glamour enough to live a normal life. To not drive men—and the occasional woman—mad with false lust. How could she trust any man’s feelings for her when the moment she dropped the glamour their affection for her twisted into obsession?
Aquaria reached across the table and laid a cool, dry hand on Cora’s. “My darling girl, it’s the fate of a siren to never truly know if her lover’s feelings are real. You should know that by now.”
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I can live with it. Honestly, I’d rather die today than grow old with someone who doesn’t actually love me.”
“Don’t you dare say such words, Coralia ó Murchadha!” Cora closed her eyes in resignation, waiting for the inevitable announcement that she’d have to suffer through yet another horror show. “Your father agrees that you need to continue your search, so we’re hosting a gala at our estate to assist you in finding your mate.”
And there it was.
“Mother…”
“This is not optional, Cora.”
“But I suppose my happiness is optional,” she snapped. “Who are you inviting anyway?”
“All eligible males with the requisite pedigrees, titles and wealth, of course. There will be a little of everything to choose from in all the top families.” Aquaria frowned. “Coralia, you must know I have your best interest at heart. I only invited men I would marry if I were in your position.”
“That’s not at all reassuring, Mother.”
Aquaria sniffed as she stood and looked down on her daughter. Something Cora was used to.
“I guess you’ll just have to trust me, dear.”
That seemed unlikely.
Chapter Two
Deo stood on the balcony of the penthouse suite, keeping to the shadows as he watched the traffic dozens of floors below. They weren’t far from Othercross Arcane Judicial, and from this vantage point the sprawling, historic stone building and its grounds loomed like a mountain in the midst of chaos.
Cora worked there, spent her days inside that building, creating a life for herself that included him in an increasingly narrow sliver. That hadn’t always been the case. They used to be—and Deo hoped they still were—best friends.
The two had grown into their respective powers together, after Cora had put up her glamour and shortly after he’d been turned. They’d navigated their new realities by venting, each basically acting as the other’s sounding board.
But they were connected by more than just bitching about their daily irritations. An intense attraction lingered between them, despite Cora’s insistence that it wasn’t real but rather an artifact from her allure as a siren. Deo didn’t buy it, but he couldn’t deny that their bond wasn’t anything close to what he’d heard beloveds felt, so he didn’t push.
“Son?”
Deo turned, inclining his head to acknowledge his sire, Orrin, the Nicolaides master. Deo took after his father in looks, but Orrin’s power was infinitely greater than his son’s.
“Hi, Dad.”
As Deo left the balcony and returned inside, Orrin glided into the study and shut the door behind him.
“Happy anniversary, son,” Orrin said with a proud smile.
It had plain slipped Deo’s mind that it was the twentieth anniversary of the day he was turned into a vampire, to follow in his father’s very large footsteps. Of course, as little more than a nestling—he was only forty—that was a long way off.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said, dropping into a club chair feeling anything but happy.
“What would you like?” Orrin asked as he settled on the sofa across from Deo.
“Huh?”
“You are my son and have always been an asset to our clan. Loyal and unwavering in your duty. Tell me what I can do for you on this, the anniversary of your turning.”
A lesser man would have asked for money, land, or increased rank and the commensurate power within the clan. Deo didn’t want any of that.
“I have everything I need, and what I want, I’m afraid you can’t give me.”
Orrin’s lips twitched. “Don’t be so certain, my son.”
Deo shrugged, as frustrated as ever. Orrin moved to the corner of the room and decanted a bottle of blood wine.
“It’s the girl. Isn’t it? Coralia ó Murchadha.”
Deo said nothing, accepting the glass of wine Orrin handed him and taking a healthy gulp.
“So, what’s the problem?” Orrin asked as he took his seat again. “If you want her, take her.”
Deo snorted into his glass. “If only it were that simple.”
Orrin shrugged. “It’s always t
hat simple. What’s not simple is deciding what you’re willing to do to take what you want. What line you’re willing to cross.”
Deo thought of Terrus and Aquaria Murphy, Cora’s parents. They’d never approved of him, not even as a friend, though they probably were savvy enough to suspect he had other intentions.
“Taking out a girl’s family doesn’t seem like the best way to win her affections, Dad,” he drawled.
Orrin raised a solitary dark eyebrow as he sipped his wine. “I never did like that blasted selkie. Always smells like the hold on an old fishing boat. Maybe because his siren wife is a cold fish.”
“Pretty sure they like us just as much.”
“They don’t think you’re good enough for their little princess. Do they?”
“Of course not. I’m just a lowly fixer for my father’s clan.”
Deo drained his glass and paced the room. The simple thought of Cora finding another man… Well, he didn’t like it. He didn’t have the jealous rage of a beloved, but still, he couldn’t stand the idea of her marrying some douchey fae.
“Since you asked me for nothing for your anniversary, it’s up to me to decide on your gift. And I’ve decided it’s time to officially announce you as my heir.”
Deo froze and then turned on his heel to stare at his father. “What?”
“Changes things. Does it not?” Orrin stood and poured himself another glass of wine, clearly pleased with himself. “The fae pretend to be obsessed with their precious bloodlines, but their veins bleed red just like every other race. Offer their daughter a husband with wealth, power and influence, and they’ll take the alliance. Especially when the daughter is rumored to have decided not to wed at all. At this point, they’ll be relieved to have someone take her off their hands.”