by Renee Field
He sank his head underneath the waves and opened his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. There in the murky Atlantic sea he spotted her shape. She still had legs and he could tell as she propelled her body through the water she was struggling.
Chase dove after her, using his last bit of strength to hook onto her ankle. He captured her and held her close. She shook her head, urging him with a plea to let her go. Even with his eyes stinging from the salty brine of the ocean he noticed gray lines streaking across her face. Not knowing what else to do, Chase broke through the water, gulped in a much-needed breath of oxygen and then captured her lips, urging her without words to take his soul.
She fought him, trying to wrestle out of his tight hold but she also kissed him back with a passion that caused his skin to form goosebumps and his heart to soar.
Releasing her lips he tilted her head so she could look at him. “You forgot something,” he joked. A smile formed on his tingling lips.
“I can’t do it.”
“I’m insisting. I freely offer my soul to you.”
The wind rushed through them so fiercely that Chase lost his hold on Sasha. Large waves swept him out to sea as he called again and again for Sasha. All he heard was his own voice and the slosh of the waves as they tried to drown him.
The pain of the rapture ripped through Sasha like she was born anew. It hurt so much that Sasha thought for sure she must be dying as her legs melted away to form a tail. Her hair grew back to its normal Siren length. She fingered her scaly mid-section and shivered.
What happened?
The curse is broken, Sasha.
Sasha whirled around in the sea. That voice had haunted her for decades, and she wasn’t about to forget who it belonged to. Sasha watched the dark mass swim closer to her. The Sea Witch still looked like a hag. Her long seaweed-strewn hair splayed around her and her tail was grayish-green and molting. She was the complete opposite to a Siren. Where the adjectives of beauty and passion encompassed them, the Sea Witch was ugly and unforgivingly cold. But not when it came to her son. A Titan born with masculine beauty, he was the Sea Witch’s pride and joy.
Sasha fought not to move and keep her expression neutral while she worried about Chase.
The Sea Witch spoke to her telepathically. Sasha fought not to cringe as the Sea Witch’s voice, which sounded like a scream in her mind, took hold.
Ah, compassion…I had so hoped you would experience it. He fights the good fight as humans say, but his body is dying. And even though you knew his fate you ran from taking his life. Why, why Sasha?
The question demanded an answer. That was the power of the Sea Witch. One could never swim away without answering truthfully. It was also why she had been cursed in the first place because the Sea Witch had asked Sasha if she loved her son and Sasha had said no.
Sasha answered, He deserved more.
Such a simple statement but it summed up exactly how she felt about Chase.
And what more would you give him? asked the Witch.
Sasha shook her head. Surely she was misreading the Sea Witch. Through the echo of the waves and water, Sasha clearly heard Chase calling out her name.
The Sea Witch moved closer until Sasha felt cloaked in her filthy hair.
Do you love him?
That powerful word hit Sasha like an underground cyclone. Sasha blinked. She saw the Sea Witch smile. Sasha didn’t care that she hadn’t known Chase more than a few hours—her soul knew what her heart was crying out. He was her other-half—her soul-mate. But how could a human be a Siren’s soul-mate?
Yes, I do love him, said Sasha.
The Fates work their own magic. You have learned a lot and pleased me. The curse is lifted. Take the life he has offered and make him whole.
As quickly as the Witch materialized she disappeared, leaving Sasha quaking with the choice she longed to make.
Rushing toward Chase she surged up beside him. Immediately he smiled but Sasha saw the blue tinge of his lips.
“Thought I had lost you.” He captured her face in his hands.
“I can save you,” said Sasha.
Still smiling, Chase asked, “How?”
“By turning you into a Titan. The transformation will heal you. Your cancer will be gone but you would have to give up all your human life.”
For a second Chase let her go. They floated on the stream looking at each other with a warmth that should have heated the cold Atlantic sea.
“Are you serious?” asked Chase.
“Yes. The choice is yours, Chase.”
He moved closer to her and reclaimed her cheeks with his large cold hands. “Then my answer is yes.”
Sasha kissed him like a Siren. She wrapped her tail around him and used her weight to bring them both underneath the sea’s blanket. Understanding dawned on Chase for a second as he fought for a breath, but Sasha poured all of what she was offering into her kiss. She sucked in his last breath and waited for a heartbeat and then kissed him again, freely offering her life essence, tying him to her.
It was an act almost as old as civilization. She was a Siren and she was saving his life. In return he would become one of them, a Titan, tied forever to her.
Releasing him from the power of her kiss, Sasha watched as the painful rapture tore through Chase. She wished she could help ease his pain but like any birth or in this case rebirth he had to bear the force of his choice.
The minute he finished rapturing, the transformation from human to Titan was complete. He looked at her with such loving in his dark blue eyes that Sasha almost wanted to thank the Sea Witch for cursing her in the first place. Sasha was about to say something, but Chase captured her lips and poured all his passion for her and awe of the transformation into her.
“I would die a thousand times for just the taste of your lips.”
It was a silly line but she believed him and more than that, her heart told her he meant it.
# # #
If you enjoyed A Siren’s Wish check out
Rapture
By Renee Field
Prologue
Double Dutch was her favorite. With her twin sisters of the Past and Present holding either end of the bright pink skipping rope, Sesta jumped gaily into the middle. Her form shimmered with each bounce and her laughter spilled over into the adjoining halls of the Palace of Fate.
The walls of the palace were lined with mirrors. Scenes from everyday life throughout the four kingdoms played themselves out like a video. Every once in a while a scene would catch the three sisters’ attention and for a brief moment the skipping game would be suspended.
Lately, Sesta had a restlessness about her that drew her more and more to the mirrors. Keeping track of Fate was a daunting task, but she had been trained for it by the Creator and she would not let the Creator down.
As her feet touched the marble floor, her eyes shifted to the right to briefly observe a scene playing itself out somewhere within one of the four kingdoms. There was something familiar about it. The action was taking place in her favorite kingdom—the magical, mystical undersea realm, where the Titans and Sirens of the undersea world lived their lives. They were her favorite beings.
Like a thief in the night, Sesta spied on them. As an ancient celestial being, guilt had long ago left her consciousness. Sometimes when looking at these beautiful creatures of the deep, a raw emotion she couldn’t explain was awakened within her. At those times only she questioned her firm hands-off policy.
“Bella, can you play that scene again?” asked Sesta, not missing a beat as the pink skipping rope twirled high over her head.
“Not that one, it’s boring,” replied Bella, with an exaggerated sigh. As the Sister of the Past, it was Bella’s job to keep track of the past and to ensure events and actions within all four kingdoms took place at their appointed times.
“She asked for you to play it,” said Ava, her Sister of the Present.
That alone gave Sesta pause. In most cases, her two sisters viewed th
eir jobs as tedious and tiring. They rarely gave a second glance to a scene playing itself out on the mirrors. Before she could ponder it any farther, the scene was bright and bold in front of her.
The skipping rope was forgotten as Sesta watched the mirrors. Vaguely in the background she could hear her sisters’ whispered voices.
“Why did you tell me to play it again?” asked Bella, her tone angry.
“I am the Sister of the Present and this is to be,” replied Ava, her haughty voice soft with a hard edge to it.
“You know this will ruin everything. There will be no more games if she…”
A loud clang echoed throughout the halls.
The Creator was calling them.
Sesta stood rooted to the spot. The scene had shifted to another kingdom, another time, but still she couldn’t move. A searing shiver traveled through her body as new knowledge scorched all of her ancient souls.
“Sesta, you must come with us,” said her sisters, as they tried to get her attention.
“She knows,” said Bella, “and it’s all your fault, Ava.”
“No it is not. You know the law. We cannot interfere with the dust of time. It was her time to awaken. It is her destiny. As it is our destiny to move forward. We must go, the Creator has called us,” said Ava, calmly gliding away from Sesta with her arm linked protectively around her twin.
If either one of them had looked back, they would have seen Sesta crumple to the marble floor with her head bowed while her shoulders shook from the grief washing over her.
Sesta tried over and over again to control the surge of disbelief that was pouring through her being. She had always wondered at her creation and now she knew. The knowledge did not calm her. Her form shimmered as the surges of power radiated outward. Taking a calming breath, she stood, regaining her regal grace to raise her eyes up to look at the universe spinning and spiraling through space above her head.
A plan was forming in her head. A daring plan. A plan she shouldn’t hatch, but still she weighed the risks, the outcomes and then guessed the probability of succeeding. It was slight. The odds were stacked against her. Still though, there was a slim chance she would make a difference—this time.
So Sesta did the unthinkable. Without hesitating another minute she shimmered her form through time and space and broke her own law—interfered with the dust of time. She caught the ancient particles and delicately swirled the many layers of dust with her fingers and then blew it back through time. She knew she was being watched by the Creator, but still that did not stop her.
What did she have to lose? she wondered.
“Everything!”
Her mind echoed her sisters’ thoughts. The word was short, brief and to the point. It was their message to her. Their way of letting her know they knew what she had done.
So be it. Sesta’s form vibrated with resolve. “I will not fail my favorite beings. I will not let them perish for my mistake. Do you hear me, my sisters, my brethren, my loves? The Titans and Sirens of the undersea kingdom will not die. I pledge my existence to it. Do you hear me?”
Sesta didn’t need to shout the words. It was enough she had said them out loud. The challenge was out there. And she would do everything within her being to meet it.
* * *
Chapter One
Sweat broke over Seth’s brow as he lumbered forward under the strain of the rope. Hauling the boat up the sharp slope from the shore to higher ground was a daunting task, but it had to be done. A storm was brewing. A big one.
The knowledge of that hit him hard. What he’d like to do was haul the boat all the way up to the shed, but already the winds were picking up as the swells of the rough water lapped harder on shore. The gulls overhead squawked in fright while the seals that called his stretch of the beach home barked in answer. In truth, he felt as if the creatures were laughing at him, mocking his attempt to defy Mother Nature.
Straining under the weight of the rope, he was conscious of the sweat streaking his brow. Grunting under the force of keeping the boat from tipping, he pushed his muscles to move while putting one foot in front of the other.
“For gawdsakes man, where’s your rubbers,” shouted the familiar craggy voice of his nearest neighbor.
The man lived on the other side of the bay, a good ten miles by vehicle, but a mere jaunt in a dory for the cantankerous geezer. Seth ground his teeth in frustration. The last thing he needed was old Jack poking his nose in his business again.
The sloshing gait of the seventy-year-old fisherman drew on Seth’s sensitive hearing. Why Jack wore those things he lovingly referred to as rubbers constantly mystified him. Ten years living among humans and they still remain a mystery to me.
“Cat got your tongue, now?” asked old Jack, as he hauled his battered old dory high up onto Seth’s beach.
Not even turning his head in acknowledgement, Seth mumbled under his breath, “I’m busy.” He hoped just once his neighbor would get the hint and leave.
“Thought as much. You know you should have something on your feet. It’s good for traction,” muttered the old man, squatting to the side of Seth as he stuffed tobacco into his pipe. “Not that your kind get hurt often.”
Seth ignored him. A decade ago, when Jack dared to do the impossible and tried to befriend him, Seth had done everything within his powers to ensure a friendship wouldn’t develop. Now he had to fight against the strain of a smile tugging at his lips as he eyed the old man, daring him to light his well-used clay pipe.
Instead, from the corner of his eye, he watched as the old geezer puckered his lips to draw on the unlit pipe. “Want some help?”
Seth shook his head. The fact that Jack had the nerve to check up on him actually touched him, but now was not the time.
Once a month like the high moon tide, the man hauled his arthritic body up to Seth’s house to saunter straight into his kitchen where he would promptly pour two glasses of whiskey into one of his coffee mugs like they were fast friends. While it was always a one-sided conversation, with Jack doing most of the talking, most of it reminiscing about those great glory fishing days, an hour later his uninvited guest would be gone.
Not once had Seth touched the offered whiskey after his first taste of it a decade ago. Not that the old man minded. Said he didn’t like to drink alone and it was simply bad manners not to offer up a drink to a friend. Seth left it at that.
Later when Jack would waddle bow-legged down to the shore and haul his old bones into his beloved dory, Seth would pour the drink down the sink and wash out the cup. If he still followed the old ways, he’d have offered the drink to one of the gods. Not anymore.
The fact that old Jack was the only one Seth allowed on his property to somewhat befriend him gave the old man something to do. Not that Seth thought he could actually get rid of the old geezer, unless he resorted to his old tricks. No, Seth knew Jack’s days were lonely and for the past ten years that was something he came to understand all too well. That, more than anything, was why he had allowed the old man his customary monthly visit.
Today, knowing Jack had rowed across the bay to make sure he was okay gave him pause. A gust of wind told Seth that wasn’t wise.
Forcing his body to move three more steps, he watched as Jack got up to test the wind.
“She’s gonna be a big one. You remember the last big one we had around here. Felt as if old Poseidon was stirring up the water with one of those fork thingys…”
Seth choked on that image. Fork thingy isn’t what I’d call it. He tried hard not to give in to a chuckle.
“We lost some fifteen boats that year. Wait a sec…wasn’t that about the same time you came here?” The not-so-innocent look wasn’t missed by Seth.
As always, he said nothing. He remembered that night well. His fury had matched the seas, acting like a blanket, comforting him with the knowledge that it too was mad with the decision that had been forced upon him.
Rolling his shoulders to get a knot out, he strained again
under the weight of the rope, thinking he should have built a smaller vessel. Two more feet and she should be safe.
Seth knew he was in for a long night. It wasn’t the coming hurricane that would keep him awake. It was the pull of the sea he’d have to fight with every ounce of his willpower. It was times like this he cursed himself.
“You’d think after a decade with us, Seth, you’d learn to communicate a bit more,” said old Jack, standing on shaky legs. “Anyway, just came to see ya. Oh yeah, there’s some rich dude docked at the government wharf asking about you. You know he’s the spittin’ image of you, almost,” said Jack, spitting out a wad of the tobacco he’d stuffed in his mouth.
Seth knew what the almost referred to. A scar like his wasn’t easy to hide, not that he cared or even tried.
“Nice fancy boat he’s got. Thought you should know. I told him he’d better anchor down here for a bit, but the fool just laughed in my face. Said he’d find you himself and then he up-anchored that nice yacht of his and took off. Never even asked for directions, but then again, there was something a bit strange about him. Here I am rambling again,” said Jack, lumbering to his dory.
“Wait a sec,” said Seth, turning his head to look at Jack, making sure not to let go of the rope. “Did he say where he was headed?”
There was an audible pause as Jack weighed his words. There was also a mischievous gleam in his eyes that caused Seth’s senses to prickle.
“So…you do know him. Thought as much. Now let me think. Yup, said he’d settle the boat at Dragon’s Pass. Now two hours ago, that pass might have been a good idea, but now, with the shift of the wind… I’m thinking that’s crazy. Hope your friend knows what he’s doing.”
With that, Seth watched as old Jack hauled his dory back into the turbulent sea. “Want a ride?” he asked, knowing the answer.
“In that crazy thing you own? Never! Now don’t you fear…been rowing across this bay since long before you were born.”