Sirens and Scales

by Kellie McAllen

  She settled on his knee. The feel of so much softness on his thigh sent a hot pulse of awareness to his manhood. She tugged his shirt up. The sleeves caught on his dagger pommels, so he removed the daggers on his biceps as well, wrapping the blades securely and resting them with the others behind his feet.

  She stroked his abdomen.

  He tightened, flexing in sharp relief.

  She palmed muscles lit by the hall light filtering into the bedroom and traced his aquamarine tattoos. Splaying her palm across his heart, she looked up. “Even the scars inside?”

  “Those scars are permanent.”

  Lost honor could never be recaptured. His mistakes could never be atoned. Warriors sacrificed everything — home, love, life — to avoid dishonor.

  Zara in his arms was worth any dishonor. Her presence calmed him.

  As though she knew the turn of his thoughts, her expression turned fierce. “You didn’t do anything really wrong.”

  He had done many things really wrong. “It does not matter.”

  “It does matter.”

  “I would do it all again to bring me to you.” He slid his hands up her shirt, squeezing her shoulder blades to press her breasts against him. “Everything.”

  Her eyes closed. She tilted her mouth to accept him.

  He took her mouth with his. She tasted like the dinner’s spicy chicken soup and water and femininity. His Zara. Her soul light flared. She scooted closer.

  He kissed down her jaw to her slender neck. She’d once worried about her looks. She wasn’t slender in comparison to other females, but he thought her neck was slender, graceful like the curve of a crescent moon. He teased it with gentle teeth.

  She moaned and tilted her head to give him better access.

  Her bare skin tasted salty and sweet. He tongued down the delicate column to where it met her collar. Tugging off her fluffy peasant shirt and silk bra revealed plump handfuls of creamy breasts. He feasted on her dark aureoles.

  She dug her fingers into his back, pulling him closer.

  He pulsed with heat.

  He had wanted her for so long. Wanted her, craved her. Strong and beautiful, like this. Together, they would be healed.

  She pushed him back.

  A rejection? He stopped, holding her steady.

  But no.

  She smiled at him with sinful flash of white teeth and kissed his mouth, her tongue tangling with his, her fingers twining in his hair. She was hotter than a furnace and enjoyed commanding his passion. He throbbed.

  He needed her powerful like this. Taking the lead, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

  The first time she had kissed him and taken control, he had been surprised. Trainers focused on generalities — that a warrior must honor and respect his bride, bring his bride to pleasure, and his duties to her in the heart chamber must be performed as honorably as any duties in war.

  But knowing her desire, her love, burned as hot as his own had deeply reassured him on a level he could never have imagined. Not only did he find her endlessly fascinating and hunger for her, but she also felt intense, uncontrollable cravings for him.

  On the land, once more, her commanding kiss was deeply reassuring.

  She drizzled hot nips down his jaw and across his chest, teasing his nipples with her tongue, and kissing lower, tasting the rippling muscles of his chest. He leaned back on his elbows, giving her what they both craved. She teased the band of his shorts. He groaned and thrust, his hardness scraping the inner fabric of the damp denim.

  With a pleased smile, she unzipped and opened his shorts, revealing him. Cool breeze wafted across his sensitive skin and heat pulsed in him. He sucked in a breath.

  Her gaze flicked to him for a moment, just enough to connect and show she knew exactly what she was doing. She lowered her mouth.

  He groaned and gripped her hair. “Zara.”

  She smiled, knowing exactly what she was doing to him and liking it. Her soul light flared, intensely bright. She had no doubts, no fears. She was herself, doing what she wanted, sharing her desires with him. They were partners. Friends. Lovers.

  Husband and wife.

  He needed to give this soul-tingling pleasure to her too.

  He curled his abdomen over her, grabbed her waist, and lifted. She squeaked. He rotated her in the air, lay back, and settled her on top of him on the bed, now facing away from him toward the door. Tugging off her shorts and panties and tossing them off the bed, he revealed her.

  She rested her weight on her knees, pushing into the bed deeply on either side of his shoulders, and lifted up. Resting her forehead against his thigh, she looked between their naked bodies to catch his eyes.

  He lifted his brows in a silent question. Why had she stopped?

  Her lips curved even though she was upside down to him. “I’m impressed you could do that. I’m not exactly light.”

  “You are not heavy.”

  She snorted. “Please.”

  “It is truth.” He placed soft, worshipful kisses on her trembling thighs. Above the water, he felt enveloped by her weight. The pressure of her body equaled the depth of her trust. “This is better.”

  She looked surprised, then thoughtful, as though remembering something. And then she dismissed her thought with another snort. “You just don’t remember.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Perhaps he valued her more sharply having loved her once and lost her. Or perhaps they had both matured in their separation and heartbreak, and now their experiences were richer and more poignant.

  Whatever the reason, he nuzzled into her soft skin and rediscovered the sensual places she most liked. Her exquisite pleasure cries muffled.

  She suddenly gripped the sheets and shuddered. Release whipped through her body, silent yet powerful. She collapsed and gasped for breath.

  So, he could bring her to the peak of pleasure with only his tongue. His chest swelled with rightness. Knowing he still had this precious skill healed another part of his injured heart.

  Zara wiggled free of his grasp and sat beside his torso, on her knees, and rotated to face him. He rolled upright to face her. His manhood pulsed hard as granite, ready.

  Her soul light shone like a beacon. Was it enough to make her fins? Right now, he didn’t care. He loved her unconditionally. Defenses would come later. She had torn all his down and made him stronger inside with her mouth, with her acceptance, and with her hungry tongue.

  Now, Zara straddled him, thumping one knee on each side of his waist. She curled her arms around the back of his neck and undulated.

  He steadied her, his fingers sinking into the perfect grip on her hip bones. “Zara?”

  “I want you.” She kissed his mouth, stoking his hunger even higher. “In.”

  He steadied her. She fit them together as one. It felt like coming home.

  She sucked in a trembling breath and sighed her satisfaction. Resting her forehead against his, she nuzzled him softly. “You are the only male I have ever wanted. I never forgot you for a moment.”

  He struggled not to release immediately.

  “Never leave me again.”

  His voice cracked. “Never.”

  She stamped his lips with hers and then rocked against him, closing her eyes and moaning. She was so beautiful, so fiery, so gorgeous.

  So passionate.

  He filled his palms with her sweet bounty. She rolled back her head, giving in to her undulating thrusts. He sucked on the exposed flesh, seeking to bring her to greater passion.

  She gasped. “Elan!” Dug her nails into his back. “Yes!”

  He lost all control. She was his, and he was hers. Forever.

  Her blissful expression shattered into an endless orgasm.

  Hers shoved him over the edge. White-hot pleasure filled him with trembling release.

  They came down together, in each other’s arms.

  She stroked his shoulders gently. He squeezed her tight. If this moment could only last for the rest of his lif
e, he would know peace.

  Something thumped in the living room.

  She stiffened, and he rose to full alert.

  The world would not give them peace. His wish was foolish.

  They disentangled and scrambled off the bed. He bolted for the living room naked. Zara’s fearful cry, “Zain?” echoed behind him.

  16

  Zara raced after Elan, clutching her clothes to her chest.

  How could she have been so stupid?

  She knew not to underestimate her parents. If they returned, they wanted something, and when they wanted something of hers or Milly’s, they took it. Returning a week after Zain and Elan emerged from the ocean? The timing was no coincidence.

  Elan’s warrior gaze coolly swept the empty living room.

  Zara raced past him to the bathroom.

  Baby Zain slept peacefully in the dry bathtub, a blue and yellow duckies blanket wrapped around his white onesie. His little mouth hung open and a very human snore emerged from his baby lips.

  Her terror drained out of her. She rested her forehead on the door frame.

  Behind her, Elan stalked through the house. The quiet pad of his feet announced he was going upstairs, and his weight creaked the old floorboards as he thoroughly examined every room for intruders.

  Maybe she was over-reacting. Maybe it was a coincidence her parents returned now. Her father had lots of friends and partners in the area.

  The scent of sex clung to her skin. She tidied herself quietly in the sink and pulled on her old clothes.

  Elan returned to her side. He was still naked — and troubled. “There are no defenses in this house.”

  His castle closed up to become impenetrable when it was attacked. In comparison, yes, her house was definitely lacking.

  “Close the windows,” she said. They were usually left open for refreshing breezes; spring humidity could get stuffy and hot. “Make sure everything’s locked.”

  “I will rest on the couch tonight.”

  “Sure.” She’d sleep on the floor of Zain’s bathroom. “Put on some pants.”

  He looked down at his nude form. The corner of his mouth turned up, a pleased smile remembering what they had just shared.

  Her feminine center tingled.

  She shooed him out and whispered. “Get dressed.”

  With a stolen kiss on the back of her neck, flushing her tingling to full-blown throbbing, he retreated.

  No time for tingling. She rubbed her neck and set about securing the house.

  They were locking the final window when Milly’s car raced to her usual spot in the back. Her headlights flashed, and she honked without regard for the neighbors.

  Zara’s heart thudded.

  She unlocked the back door and ran out in her flip-flops, Elan right behind her.

  Milly cut the engine and got out, her headlights still on. “Is everything okay?”

  “Here? Yes.” Zara felt Elan’s warm, shirtless presence at her back. “Is everything okay with you?”

  “Yes.” Milly’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, thank goodness. You don’t have a cell phone and I got a call from the police. Someone who looked like our mother hired a locksmith to have keys made to our front door.”

  A sick feeling oozed into Zara’s stomach. A dangerous twinge of knowing.

  Even though she had just checked, she turned and sprinted back into the house. Through the kitchen, the living room, to the bathroom. Elan and Milly crowded behind her.

  The duckies blanket in the tub was empty.

  Her world tilted. She grabbed the wall for balance. Her stomach bolted for her throat.

  Elan turned abruptly and disappeared.

  “Where’s Zain?” Milly asked.

  “He was right here.” Zara wheeled, stumbling past her sister. The front door hung open and Elan raced across the front gravel.

  A car engine started on the main road. Tires squealed as the engine revved. A car fishtailed away, its lights flicking on after it was already halfway down their hill. Elan raced after the car as it rapidly left him behind.

  “My car! Go!” Milly shouted, tugging Zara.

  She ran after Milly and crashed into the passenger’s seat. Elan tumbled into the back seat. Zara fumbled with the door. It wouldn’t close. The seatbelt was caught. She yanked it out and slammed the door.

  Milly started the engine, messed with her cell phone, and shouted, “Seatbelts! Seatbelts!”

  “Drive!” Zara swore through shaky tears. “They’re getting away!”

  “Not until you put on your seatbelt!”

  She fumbled with the fastening. The lights of the other car disappeared around the hill. She sobbed. “Milly!”

  Elan reached forward and snapped Zara’s belt into place. “Go.”

  Milly threw her cell phone at Zara and wheeled out to the road. She white-knuckled the steering wheel.

  The other car had disappeared.

  Zara strained for taillights. The moon cast a small glow between patches of black and gray clouds, and the roads were quiet at this time of night; the island had a population of about fourteen thousand, and most of them spent late evenings with their families.

  She squinted into the patchy darkness. “Did you call the police?”

  Milly shook her head tightly.

  Zara checked the phone and pressed the call button. Nothing happened. “I can’t dial.”

  “That happens when the battery’s low.”

  “Where’s your charger?”

  “Not with me.”

  She wanted to scream. “Why did you wait for seatbelts? If they get away, we’ll lose—”

  A small, furry creature dashed in front of the wheels.

  Milly slammed on the brakes.

  The sedan skidded, slid out, and stopped on the edge of the sharp ditch. It rocked back and forth on its wheels. Burnt rubber oiled the night.

  Milly stared at Zara. “That would have been someone’s head through the windshield.”

  Zara’s heart couldn’t beat any faster and her hands couldn’t shake any more. “Okay. I get it. Drive.”

  Milly returned to the correct lane and accelerated to normal speeds. At the first stop sign, she guessed. Distant taillights flashed on a barely visible road leading toward an exterior harbor.

  Anxiety squeezed Zara’s belly in a fist. “Is that them?”

  “We’ll find out.” Milly’s voice was flat as she drove.

  “Your phone’s still not working,” Zara moaned, unable to do anything else.

  Elan remained silent in the back seat.

  “Try restarting.”

  The taillights turned onto a private marina. Yes. They were chasing the right car.

  Milly reached the turn a few minutes later and bumped over the entrance. She slowed to check each parked car. Zara divided her time between searching for suspicious shadows and watching Milly’s phone cycle power.

  On the dock, a medium-sized boat suddenly powered on.

  “There!” Zara pointed. “That must be our parents’ yacht.”

  Milly slowed to make the turn.

  Elan unsnapped his seat belt and exited the moving car.

  Milly slammed on the brakes, rocking the car on its tires. Zara unsnapped her belt and climbed out. She dropped Milly’s phone on the seat.

  “Zara!” Milly called. “Wait!”

  “Call the police!”

  Zara raced to the dock, easily catching Elan and passing him. She wasn’t a great runner, especially in flip flops, but she had lived her entire life on land.

  She reached the end of the dock. The yacht was already chortling away, hundreds of feet, heading for the marina exit.

  Zain!

  She pulled off her flip-flops. The dark water reflected patches of moonlight, opaque and impenetrable.

  Elan huffed down the dock behind her.

  She turned to him. No time for fear. No time for doubts. “Can you catch that boat?”

  “Yes.” He reached the end and jumped.


  She jumped behind him.

  The water slammed into her, cold and black. Shock squeezed her lungs and stole her breath. She struggled in her clothes. Seawater sucked into her lungs and choked her. Her throat closed and her eyes watered.

  Drowning! She was drowning!

  A hand grabbed her elbow and tugged her through the black water, fast and sure, like a jet ski.

  She flailed.

  The sea water, stunning at first, pooled in her lungs. It was a heavy, cold, familiar weight. On her back, slits opened to the chill, transforming her air-breathing lungs into water-breathing gills. The temperature warmed to a familiar slippery sensation as her skin shifted from human to mer.

  She was not drowning.

  Zara opened her eyes.

  The night ocean flared to life as if someone had flipped on stadium lights.

  Darkness means nothing under the water.

  She could see miles in every direction. Marina fish floated in the light, each glowing with their own inner lights, and making small notes like the chime of a xylophone.

  Their soul lights.

  Elan could see these in humans and mer. She could only sense them in animals as a sort of combined light-sound.

  The fish tinkled as they munched plankton, which glowed like stardust sprinkled into layers on the ocean “breezes.” Coral came alive with music and lights as each resident gave off its own unique musical aura.

  Larger wrasse darted into deeper water, bellowing their unique song, and beneath them, the ground sloped down to reveal the whole shape of the ocean. Manta rays the size of Milly’s sedan flew like magic carpets in a V-formation, and farther out, true giants — mako sharks, the squiggly arms of large squids, and even baleen whales — soared.

  It was beautiful and freeing, like flying.

  Just as she remembered.

  Elan gripped her forearm. He was still wearing his denim shorts; his ankles now terminated in large fins that he kicked powerfully, propelling them after the yacht.

  He had not left her behind.

  Even though she couldn’t make her fins and feared her parents, he understood. She needed to save Zain.

  The motor growled with unnatural, mechanical screeches. Propeller blade chewed the surf. Elan flew under the yacht, examining it like an unfamiliar fish. “How do we defeat this machine?”