Siren Slave

by Aurora Styles

  “I’ll give you that,” Siegfried said slowly, his hands tightening to fists at the thought of Merrick the Black. So now, it seemed, he was the King of Outlaws. He’d take that.

  “But Rome knows one important thing, well obviously way more than just one—everyone has a price. I know I’m no beauty any longer.” She turned her head away, and he caught the sheen of tears on her cheeks. “If he wants my virginity, he can have it.”

  “You’re lax with your virginity.”

  “Etainen, neck or hymen? If I don’t have my neck, no one is going to want the other, unless there is something incredibly wrong with them. You don’t like me. Don’t know why. But I think you might even hate me. Is it because of Pompey wanting to have me on my wedding night?”

  “That might have something to do with it.” He tapped his boot eight times. It was best they had this conversation now.

  “You missed my sarcasm, didn’t you?” She gave her feet an exasperated look. “Most people do, and it ends up in confusion all the time, unless you know me well. It’s hard for me to always explain the things I do, much harder now that I have powers I can’t control properly and don’t completely understand. I had to act happy about that, Etainen. What was I going to say? ‘Ew, I don’t want your wrinkled balls anywhere near me?’ My parents agreed to it.” She gave her head a shake, lip curling in disgust.

  He didn’t know what to believe about her. In any case, she had been through a lot. “How much was Enbarr able to do for you?”

  “I still don’t know everything that happened in Folkvang. I’m confused.” She looked at her hands, as if they’d have some sort of answer. “My parents are dead, and I barely believe it. But I’m still angry with them. They were just going to give me to Pompey. Here, have a glass of wine, some food, our best quarters, and our daughter. I shouldn’t be surprised. Most women are Rome’s for the taking. I can’t even cry for them, not a single tear. I tried.”

  “You can be angry with them,” he said, waiting to gauge her reaction.

  “Good, because I’m still furious. Not sad. Just lots of angry. But my plan…which you didn’t let me finish explaining, yet again, and again distracted me, isn’t to offer him my virginity. He might want it, considering, as the men in the barracks said, ‘women all look the same in the dark.’ We both know what these Marks mean, having read the same literature, it seems. I don’t think Siegfried would mind the water and storm powers I’d give him. I’ll hate the things he’ll make me do, but at least I’ll live. This will really be the key, because he is probably swarmed by women. His price will be no less than complete victory. This price appeals to his principles. I can give him his price. You can promise not to harm him and return to Rome.”

  He was just confused. That seemed to be a constant state whenever she was involved, and he didn’t like it. He prided himself on knowing his opponents, on anticipating their moves. But, Freya, she had no logic, no rational pattern.

  “And you think Siegfried is equipped to deal with whatever you’re involved with?”

  Another eye roll. “Of course. He’s eluded Rome for this long. Besides, he’ll have the fire, er, water power. And you get to go free and wear togas over your breeches. Then you can find someone you really do like, because you won’t be decapitated.” She whispered, “If you were decapitated, you might have trouble with the whole wooing thing. You look like you might be able to make a girl say ‘woo’ a lot. If you didn’t have a head, the ‘woos’ would probably be shrieks of terr—”

  “I understand.” Taking her hands, he laughed. It felt good. He liked her silliness; there was not enough of that in his life. Why, oh, why did she have to be a supporter of Rome? But if she was an admirer, that wouldn’t do well either. She’d be trying to convince him to become a farmer. “You did say you had water magic?”

  “Yes. I’m a mermaid. Well, not now, but if I switch my legs to a tail—”

  He could hardly believe that. “A mermaid?”

  “Well, I can make the waters calm or rough, too. I can do more than have a fish-looking tail. I can make whirlpools and water spouts and all that sort of thing. Merrick the Black comes along, down goes his boat.” She made a motion with a hand to mimic a sinking ship. She gasped suddenly, and he could smell the ale on her breath. “You’re not thinking about keeping me, are you? Please, please don’t.” The desperation in her voice was obvious. “You don’t need me.”

  “So, you love Romans and would pledge yourself to Siegfried?”

  “You know I don’t trust Morrigan, Hedwig, or Balder? And my human friends didn’t show up to help me from the catacombs.”

  “So…you’d trust one of your worst enemies with your powers? This hardly has anything to do with Romans at all.”

  “Unless some of them know what they could do with me. And Siegfried…he has principles. He’d choose his principles over his neck any day. He’s predictable in his reliability. He hasn’t given up what he’s doing. I think he must be mad, else I think he’d have tried to stop this wedding. But there’s probably a Hedwig potion for that, if he is mad.”

  “And you think these principles apply to his enemies?”

  “To women and children, yes. I don’t think he’s going to turn his back on what I willingly offer. There’s no one else, nowhere else I can go. I was going to explain this to him, so it wouldn’t be, ‘Oh, Siegfried, you’re stuck with me now.’ I bet he wouldn’t feel that way either. He could use the help.”

  She’d had him at “mermaid,” but he wasn’t going to let her know that.

  She pointed an accusing finger at him, her other hand on her hip. “You’re not going to take me to him, are you? What can I do to change that?”

  He wrapped her hair around his fist and pulled her face close to his. “There is one flaw in your plan. Why would Etainen want to do anything to give the rebels complete victory?”

  “Why are you speaking about yourself as if you’re not yourself?” she blurted.

  “It’s a good thing I’m not Etainen and definitely not a lapdog. I will keep my promise to you. As you keep saying, I have principles.” He grinned and waited for her reaction, tugging her face closer to his.

  “S-Siegfried?” Her face paled under the black lines. She tried to turn away, but he held her firmly.

  “Very good, Freya. Now, how does this work? How do I obtain a mermaid of my own?”

  She stared at his face for a long moment, eyes glazed, probably from drink. “A pledge. Words, it seems, have powerful magic.” He gave her a nod and she continued. “This is the pledge. Enbarr’s telling it to me, and it’s a little unsettling. We both have to rest a hand on Enbarr’s horn.” He’d almost forgotten about the presence of the unicorn with the distraction Freya had presented.

  She stepped back from him and fell to her good knee, her hair falling over face, one hand on the earth before her, the other beside Siegfried’s on Enbarr’s lowered horn. “I, Freya of Folkvang, estranged daughter of Woden of Asgard and Hecate of Avalon renounce my past, giving you present and future. I will be the unbreakable sword at your hip, cold steel in the bowels of your foes. Your will becomes my will. Your reason mine. Your hands to pull me from madness, and my blood to be spilled first. My lips will never question, my heart will never turn.” She choked on those words. “I, known to you as Loreley, all that I am, belongs to Siegfried the Fox…King of Outlaws.”

  She had just pledged…a lot. But did this not serve her right for supporting Rome? “Is there something in particular I have to say?”

  “Your part isn’t scripted,” she said. “You can simply accept, Enbarr tells me.”

  That would not do. He reached under her chin and raised her face to him. “I want you to look at me, Freya, so you know that I mean every word.” She nodded and raised her gaze. “I, Siegfried the Fox of the Cimbri, Captain of the River Queen, will require you to question me. Your will is your own. My hands will pull you from madness, and I will do all that is in my power to protect your flesh as my own. I
will take the right of having my blood spilled first. While you will question and balk, you will be obedient. Your body will be mine when I desire it. I accept your pledge.”

  Brilliant white light with flashes of green and purple like sparks in the brightness surrounded them. Heat flowed through Siegfried. Was this what magic felt like?

  “You’ll find I am not skilled with words,” Siegfried said when the light was gone.

  “It was…nice,” she murmured. “Enbarr said he was counting on you not just accepting.”

  “Rise, Freya.” He extended a hand to help her to her feet.

  Enbarr turned and glided into the wood, after giving his mane a proud toss. Did the trees just move aside for him? Yes, they did. And why were there songbirds and fireflies fluttering around him in the autumn night?

  When they were alone, Siegfried grabbed the iron collar and lead he had placed in the foliage. He’d waited until he thought Enbarr wouldn’t intervene. He was not trusting this control he had over Freya just yet. “Lift up your hair.”

  Her breath caught, and she lifted up her mane in the back, leaving locks to cover her face. “You still want my body?”

  “Aye. Nights grow cold at sea. Freya, follow—”

  She was already at his side, probably thinking he’d slay her if she did not heed him immediately. He sighed and headed back to the village.

  As they walked, he looked over his shoulder periodically. Whenever he did, she’d stop breathing and stumble. At one point, she clasped her hands to her chest and squealed.

  “I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “Much as you tempted my hand in the barracks. You’re too valuable to too many people. And to me.”

  ****

  When Siegfried turned away, Freya did a happy dance again. Who’s with Siegfried the Fox? Freya’s with Siegfried the Fox. V-I-C-T-O-R-Y.

  She cursed herself for not realizing it sooner. He’d been drinking wine. She hadn’t paid attention to what kind, but it had been red. He had worn a green toga and had an odd fascination with numbers. There was also his skill with a bow and his poor riding ability. This was why she had started to take a liking to him, because he was Siegfried. Now, he had her chained and wanted her body, just like her tales.

  “Did you hear me? I said I wasn’t going to kill you. You can start breathing again,” he said.

  “Are all the tales true?” She managed to push the words from her dry throat.

  He looked over his shoulder, warming her with that stormy gaze. Wet heat flowed from her core. “Kidnapping Roman senators, scuttling their ships, giving what they stole back to the tribes? Aye. Ostia? No. I wasn’t there. I was in the tribal lands. Principles, as you say. You can ask the real Etainen. He’s aboard the River Queen. You’ll meet him eventually. He’ll see his Rome-loving intended playing my whore.”

  He was amazing, even better in person. He was so wily, tricking her like that. He’d been handsome when she thought him Etainen. Now he deserved those looks.

  “I know this must frighten you. You undoubtedly expected me to have claws, perhaps leathery wings and horns. I’m no worse than any of your Romans. There will be no more escape attempts. Next time, I will punish you. You may go where I can see you. Remember my warning.” He glanced at her legs. “Your knee seems to be better.”

  “I think you might be confusing my perception of you with the woman who spawned me. But Enbarr did something to my knee. What are you going to do with me?”

  ****

  When she spoke, she was almost squeaking. She was probably about to piss herself. The truth, it seemed, had scared her into submission. She obviously knew Siegfried—Outlaw Royalty—was not going to bend to her whims. She was keeping pace with him and hadn’t uttered one annoying statement about Rome. Would he use her as his whore? She had willingly offered her virginity. That was willing enough. But the pledge she’d made… That made him think some of his earlier words to her had been cold.

  He wasn’t about to let the foolish princess, mermaid princess, end up as some Roman’s concubine, or some fey’s, for that matter. He had his little slave girl, slave mermaid, all his own, and there was no way anyone was taking this away.

  “Keep you out of trouble,” he said, gaze drifting to the cold chain resting in his palm. No longer an object of fantasy, but one of necessity. “Hecate and Woden are your parents. Perhaps one of them might be inclined to give me their assistance. In any case, you will. I will use you to free the tribes from Rome’s influence. Balder can help you learn your powers.”

  “Really?” Another squeal. “I’m going to destroy Romans at your side?”

  “Aye. You’re going to do many things you won’t like. You’ll learn what it is to have no freedom. How does it feel to wear those chains you’re so willing to put on others?” His cock strained against the front of his breeches.

  “Um…” She had her head down, eyes on her feet. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re not going to hurt me. You said as much in your own pledge. Besides, do you really think I’m stupid enough to want to give myself over to someone I think would kill me? Don’t answer that.”

  He felt guilty that he asked her to destroy Romans, but how many more of their people would suffer if she didn’t? What bothered him most was how tempted he was now. What types of fantasies couldn’t be fulfilled? Damnit, she’d made the pledge, she’d requested him. He could take some advantage if he pleased.

  Chapter Six

  The instant he set her next to the pile of furs and closed the door to the hut, she began raking the bright hair into order. The winged band went on again, holding her hair over her face. When she laid the comb aside, she knelt there, biting her split lip.

  She was so self-conscious about the Marks that Siegfried did not want to examine them just yet. Besides, he had his own flaws. He’d let her stare at him first.

  “Undress me,” he said.

  “Undress you?” A gasp.

  “Now. This is the beginning of you doing many things you’ll hate. Get used to it.”

  “That’s not why,” she said in that small voice she’d been using since he revealed himself. She pursed her lips and stood exactly where she was, just to the left of the doorway. “I’m hesitating because I want to make sure I do this right. Do you want me to use my hands or my teeth?”

  Was she daring sarcasm? Then again, she’d been sarcastic with Pompey. “Since you asked, use your teeth.” He waited for her to weep. Then he’d relent.

  Freya grabbed the stool she’d sat upon earlier and set it next to Siegfried. She climbed atop it, grasping the shoulder of his sodden toga carefully with her teeth. She’d stopped breathing yet again when she placed her hands tentatively on his chest to steady herself, as if afraid he might push her away. With tiny movements, she loosened the material until it pooled around his ankles. She didn’t look weepy at all. How much further would she go?

  ****

  Siegfried was glorious. His skin was tanned from spending time on deck. He’d smelled like salt, like the sea. The muscles of his chest, abdominals, and arms were clearly defined but not bulky. He had a lithe build she found very appealing. Him, the real Siegfried, standing over her. She wanted to be alone for a few moments to see to this need of hers. Maybe if she waited, he’d take care of it.

  There were scars on his chest, too. Some were thick and cruel. When he retrieved the toga from the floor, there was another mark burned into his flesh—a black F on his shoulder. There were rumors that he’d been a gladiator in Rome and fought until he earned his freedom. On his left side were other marks, tattoos, black ink under the skin. They started at the base of his neck, marred by a thick scar that had been concealed by the wrapping of his toga. How close had he come to death from that wound?

  The ink design continued from his neck to wrap over his shoulder, around his arm, and half of his chest in bold, whirling slashes that resembled jagged flames or writhing serpents, or even a roiling sea. She’d seen a few
parts of the tattoo, but not nearly enough to realize how dramatic it was. All those marks made him who and what he was, how much he’d given of himself for the tribes.

  She resisted the urge to weep her gratitude in his arms, tell him that she’d fight hard with him so no one would touch him again, except her. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  ****

  Freya was looking at him with an unreadable expression. He knew his scars were ugly. The women he’d taken to his bed had overlooked them. Extinguishing fires made it easier to ignore them. Freya had said as much, hadn’t she?

  “Aye, a lot of damage below my neck,” he said. “That’s what Rome does. I stand before you naked. Now move your hair from your face.”

  She quickly pushed the pale tresses from her face, as though afraid she’d change her mind if she did it with any less haste. Her eyes closed.

  The Marks had changed. They still looked like the claw marks hugging the lines of her face, but now they were a shimmering purple, a similar color to the one she liked to place in a winged shape around her eyes. They revealed that the black of her eyes were, in fact, a very dark, murky green.

  “Isn’t it different that I’m a woman and marked like this? Your scars, you earned those.”

  “Earned? For standing up to—”

  “For having principles,” she said.

  He traced his thumbs over her cheeks, hot under his touch. “Look.” He handed her a mirror shard that had escaped his notice.

  She gasped. “Permanent…permanent eye shade that won’t wash away…Oooh. Like glimmery warpaint. Purple and fierce…Er, sorry, I really like purple.”

  He’d only wanted to show her the Marks were different. Most women would still have been upset. But she was…admiring herself. Good. “I’d see the rest of you now. Disro—”

  He hadn’t finished the word before she loosened her own toga. It fell in a damp, muddy heap at her feet. She was slender, pale, and well-formed. Her breasts were small and high while her ass was as round and plump as it had felt. He liked that. The legs were muscular and long. He would have them wrapped around him soon, after he made her want him. He wondered what she would think of his style of fucking, then decided her opinion didn’t matter. She’d given herself to him.