Siren’s Desire: A Dark Tides Novel

by Devyn Quinn

  Keria’s face took on a shadow of anger. Nevertheless, she managed to hold her displeasure in check. “I am not here to discuss the transgressions of times past,” she said slowly. “Rather, my queen is looking toward the future and forging peace with the humans who presently cross our seas.”

  “And she thinks we will be more inclined to talk if she takes hostages?” By now Hawkins’s voice trembled with emotion. He was pissed, and it was beginning to show.

  Keria’s unblinking gaze settled on Jovon and Addison. “I refuse to speak further until the inferiors are removed from my sight.”

  Again, there was silence as each side regarded the other. Keria’s bold stare of disdain made Addison feel dirty and tainted. “I’m not leaving,” she said.

  “I will leave only if that is what Commander Hawkins desires,” Jovon allowed.

  “Nobody’s leaving,” Hawkins said flatly.

  Arta Keria didn’t move, but the sneer on her lips silently communicated her displeasure. “If that is what you wish,” she allowed, “so be it.”

  “I do,” Hawkins said tonelessly.

  Keria quickly regrouped. “To show that she is willing to be reasonable in further exchanges between our people, my queen has authorized me to tell you she will release your man into your custody within a day’s time.”

  Addison couldn’t hold her tongue “Why the delay?” she broke in. All this beating around the bush was starting to get on her nerves. Whether politically correct or not, she had to say something.

  The Mer soldier didn’t even blink. “For her generosity, my queen also requires that those who are known to be descendants of Queen Nyala be returned to Ishaldi to stand trial for their crimes against our people.”

  Addison nearly choked. “You have to be joking?”

  Hawkins’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s what this is. A hostage exchange.”

  Keria’s face was impassive. “We prefer to think of it as a way to begin building mutual trust between our people. And if your man were a criminal in your society, you would not wish for the Mer to offer him sanctuary.”

  Hawkins jumped into the argument with both feet. “In our society, the sins of a parent are not passed to their offspring.”

  The Mer’s tense features tightened even more. “Yet you must also recognize and respect the laws of Ishaldi if our people are to continue to build mutual trust. How we deal with those we deem to be criminals is not of human concern.”

  Hawkins was thinking fast. “The Mer born here have human fathers and are therefore citizens protected by the laws of the country into which they were born.”

  Keria shook her head. “Males have no rights or recognition in our society,” she pointed out. “If the mother is Mer, then the daughter is also considered such, and is therefore bound by the edicts of our society. No matter when or where she may have been born, all Mer, regardless of generation, are considered citizens of Ishaldi. It is the cradle of our origins, and that is indisputable.”

  Hawkins glanced at Addison and Jovon. “Is that true?” he asked in a hushed voice meant to carry no farther than their own ears.

  Jovon bent his head. “It is true that males have few rights in our society. We are considered property with the sole purpose of serving our females.”

  Hawkins gave him a look of horror. “Jesus, that’s archaic.”

  Addison bristled with offense. What rock was this man living under? Apparently he didn’t care to remember that mankind had a long history of abuse toward the fairer sex. “Uh, correct me if I’m wrong, but there was a time when women were treated much the same way in human society. And in many countries, sons are still favored over daughters, to the point where female fetuses are aborted or abandoned at birth.”

  Hawkins forced a smile. “Touché, but if we allow her argument to stand, you and your sister will be back on your way to Ishaldi to stand trial for the treason committed by Queen Nyala centuries ago. I hardly think that’s reasonable.”

  Jovon’s face was grim. “Yes, in our society it is perfectly acceptable for the offspring to undo the offense committed by a parent. The practice is called amarak, which means to repair a transgression committed by another.”

  Hawkins looked away, temporarily silenced. “There’s no way Mason would want this to go through, especially if it meant someone else was going to die.”

  Addison glanced toward the Mer soldier. Keria stood as stiff and still as a statue. “I don’t think that’s going to be your call, Commander.”

  Hawkins scowled fiercely. “Unfortunately, you’re right.” He turned to Arta Keria. “I will need some time to speak with my superiors.”

  The Mer soldier gave him a look of derision. “If you do not accept our terms, my queen has instructed me to tell you that she will strike out against the ships in these waters.” She made a sweeping gesture of finality. “There will be no mercy against any who harbor the criminals who have so grievously wronged our people.”

  “I’ll need to discuss this with my superiors,” Hawkins repeated firmly in an attempt to buy some time.

  The look of scorn Keria shot at them was withering. “You have until the next sunrise to send word that you will agree to an exchange. If you say nothing, my queen will strike with vengeance. These waters will be safe for no human”—her steely gaze cut to Jovon—“or Nyx.”

  The morning sky was lit with brilliant hues of pinks and yellows bursting up from the horizon to wipe away the bruised purple face of the fading night. A vague luminescence, too dim for moonlight yet too wispy to belong to an artificial source, hovered above a cobbled path.

  Although he was trying to keep his cool, Mason’s head turned every which way as he walked between two of his captors. Even though he knew little about Mer society, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the statuesque women were soldiers. They escorted him politely but firmly. He dared not try a dash for freedom. Though their weapons looked somewhat pedestrian when compared to modern armaments, he didn’t fancy tangling with any Mer armed with a Ri’kah. A well-aimed blast from one of those bejeweled gewgaws could burn a hole through a man.

  Though the hour was an early one, the walkways and paths woven between spacious temples teemed with life. With its high green hills, wide lawns, and blossoming gardens, the island of Ishaldi was a wonder to behold. Mason felt as if he’d stepped through a rip in the fabric of time, traveling back several thousand years to witness firsthand the glories of the ancient world.

  It was easy to identify the humans. Unlike the Mer, who were well outfitted in the clothing they considered fashionable, the people were barefoot and clad in little more than loincloths. Women were allowed a binding to cover their breasts. The humans, wearing thick collars and bracelets, were chained like animals. He could immediately tell the difference between those who were slaves, and those who were kept like companion animals. It deeply disturbed him that those humans the Mer considered to be pets were also the ones they considered to be optimal for breeding. Those they favored looked very much like him: tall, fair skinned, and blue eyed.

  They’re starting to emerge, he thought. Although they had amazing technology, Mer society was still a primitive one. The humans he saw now were obviously descended from those unfortunate enough to be left behind in Ishaldi when the sea-gate closed. They had been thoroughly picked through and culled into two separate castes.

  Mason shook his head. How would they ever assimilate the Mer into the modern world? It was going to take a lot of work, especially since their monarchy also seemed to be more akin to a dictatorship than a democracy.

  “Where are you taking me?” he asked.

  Taking his arm, one of the Mer soldiers guided him up the steps of an elaborate sanctuary.

  “Our queen wishes to speak with you,” she answered in a short, clipped tone.

  Mason’s brows rose. Although her voice was accented, she spoke clear English. “You know our language?”

  The woman nodded. “We have a working knowledge of most diale
cts of the seagoing peoples, which we are able to pick up through our psi-abilities.”

  Mason glanced at her neck. As expected, she also had a crystal pendant identical to those he’d seen Addison and Gwen wearing. He wouldn’t mind having such an ability himself.

  The soldiers escorted him into an enclosed court where a fountain spouted cool water into a wide oval pool. All around, sheltering trees and neat hedges concealed the entrance from prying eyes. The air was a heady mix of the scents of many flowers and the salty breeze winnowing off the nearby sea.

  Paradise regained? he mused.

  One of the women beckoned. “This way, please.”

  Walking up a short set of wide marble steps, Mason found himself in some sort of antechamber.

  “Our queen awaits you.” The women gave a brief bow and retreated.

  Mason looked around. From what he could see, it was truly a place fit for a queen. Across the vaulted room, three wide stone steps led up to the second level. A large bed took up nearly the entire space, built especially to fit into an aperture dominated by two more hearths set into the stone walls behind the bed. Sunken fires burned behind low black iron grates that protected the bedding and skin from popping embers. Colorful tapestries hung from ceiling to floor, and luxurious rugs covered the chilly marble underfoot. Shades of silk hung over windows and doorways, lending the chamber an illusion of dreamy disconnection from the outside world.

  In one corner of the room was an array of tables topped with an elegant cloth. A bounty of fruit, fish, and other delicacies was spread out, welcoming all visitors. No doubt the silver carafes were full of rich red wine. A nude blond man, wearing only a collar and bracelets, hovered nearby, waiting to serve.

  Mason blinked. Is that Jake Massey? he asked himself. He shook his head and then decided it couldn’t be. From what he knew about Jake Massey, the man had an ego the size of Texas and a mouth to match.

  Though stunning, the entire place felt artificial. It was more like a movie set than a place to be inhabited.

  A figure in the bed stirred. Tossing aside something that looked like filmy white sheets, a blond woman wearing nothing but a smile rose from the milky pile like Venus emerging from the sea.

  She undulated down the stairs like a tiger on the prowl—lean, lithe, and utterly dangerous. A tumble of blond hair fell almost to her waist, and her porcelain skin glowed vibrantly.

  “I hope you will forgive the rather unorthodox means of conveyance that brought you to our shores,” she said by way of a greeting. Her voice was husky with sleep. “I thought it was time we met face-to-face, human and Mer.”

  Mason wasn’t in any mood for coy games. “Since you speak our language, you could have simply sent an envoy to extend the invitation,” he replied tersely.

  “True. Though you must admit, it added much more intrigue to the mix by taking you unaware.” That she was totally nude seemed not to faze her in the slightest.

  “Your recent assaults against my crew haven’t been viewed as intrigue, but as acts of aggression.”

  She bristled. “We have the right to protect what is ours. This island, these waters, belong to the Mer.”

  “At one time, that might have been true,” Mason allowed, choosing each word with care. “But times have changed.” He’d been in her presence only a few minutes; yet something about her manner was deeply unsettling. It occurred to him that dealing with the Mer queen would be much like handling sweaty dynamite. It was dangerous and liable to explode in his face at any given second.

  She made a magnanimous gesture. “So let us wipe the slate clean and begin anew.” She spread her arms in welcome, revealing every inch of her luscious body for his perusal. “I am Queen Magaera.”

  Mason wasn’t impressed and refused to be drawn into her web. “Captain Mason McKenzie,” he snapped. Refusing to look at her body, he focused on her eyes instead. The irises were blue, a shade that reminded him of a frozen pond on an arctic winter day.

  She nodded. “I have seen your ships hovering around the edge of my island.”

  Mason kept his eyes level. It was distracting to try and speak with a naked woman. Whatever her game was, he wasn’t going to play. “I have been sent by my government to make contact with you in the interest of forging diplomatic ties between the Mer and our government,” he said, measuring each word carefully. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it would suffice for the moment.

  Magaera laughed, but with a particular mirth that seemed forced and false. “Although the Mer have been locked away from these waters for a long time, I have an idea of how the world has developed through the ages. You are a member of a great country called the United States.”

  He allowed a nod. “That is correct.”

  “My minister of current affairs has advised me that the Mer would do well to align themselves with such a seagoing power.”

  “Would that be Jake Massey?” Mason glanced around. “If he is here, I would very much like to speak with him.”

  Magaera looked at him, bemused. With a flick of her wrist, she sauntered toward the lavish spread of food and drink. She snapped her fingers. “Wine,” she commanded the waiting servant. “My throat is dry from sleep.” Viewed from behind, her buttocks were round and perfectly firm.

  The silent presence quickly filled a silver goblet, handing it over to his mistress before scurrying back to his place.

  Magaera sipped. “It is much to my regret to inform you that my minister has fallen to tragedy,” she said when the goblet left her lips.

  Mason raised a brow. “Oh?” This was news, but not entirely unexpected. From what he knew, Kenneth Randall had managed to clip Jake Massey in the shoulder during the attack on the mall. Perhaps the wound had been fatal.

  She glanced at him from beneath heavy-lidded eyes. “Despite his passing, we go on,” she said, offering no further information, “though you can imagine I am quite at a loss without him.”

  “Is that so?”

  Magaera’s gaze swept him from head to toe. “It leaves me in the unhappy position of having to seek another who can guide me down the treacherous path of negotiation.” There was an oddly muted tone in her voice, as of false self-deprecation. “This present-day world is unknown to my people. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not seek an alliance that would be mutually beneficial to all involved.”

  Mason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d been around enough stuffed-shirt politicians and ass kissers to recognize a line of bullshit when he heard it. They’ll smile to your face and stab you in the back the moment you turn around.

  “Is that why you brought me here?”

  “Mmm. That and because I was curious to know why you have welcomed the Nyx aboard your ships.”

  “They are your own people, are they not?”

  Her lip curled. “The Nyx are the outcasts of Mer society. They have no place among us; nor do they have any rights or rank.”

  “I have been informed by their leader that their only wish is to be allowed to return to their homeland and live in peace. Would that be so hard to grant? The Nyx have survived in these waters a long time, and they could perhaps aid you in your endeavors to embrace the modern world.”

  Magaera’s tongue snaked out, tracing the rim of her goblet. The gaze she aimed toward him smoldered with devious intent. “It is true I could use a strong man’s guidance.”

  Mason let the remark pass with silence. She’s toying with me.

  Drinking down the last of her wine and tossing the goblet aside, Magaera flitted across the chamber to stand in front of him. Her gaze challenged his, daring him to send her away. They stood, almost for a full minute, gazes locked. She was testing his will, seeking his weaknesses, shoring up her own.

  “You are well suited to be the consort of a queen.”

  Mason couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you propositioning me?”

  She pressed on. “In a word, yes.” Her hands rose to his chest, smoothing the wrinkles of his shirt beneath her palm. “
You are perfect in every way. We need strong, beautiful men to sire our offspring.”

  Body tensing, he immediately stepped away from her invasive touch. He felt filthy, degraded. She was looking him over the way a rancher would examine a prized stallion to breed with a filly. He didn’t like being picked over like a piece of merchandise. “Not interested,” he grated. “The keeping of slaves is unacceptable. In our society, all people are equal.”

  Having failed to entice him, Magaera passed her hands over her body. A brief glimmer of sparks obscured her from his sight. When they vanished, she was fully clothed in a filmy gossamer-like gown. The virgin white material shimmered like frost; for a few brief seconds she seemed to gather light all around her, weaving it into the form she desired. Her translucent skin practically glowed.

  She smiled, flashing a hint of malice that, for a moment, revealed the madness driving her methods. First beguile, then seduce. If that didn’t work, she’d pull out the heavy artillery.

  “Please,” she scoffed. “We know that isn’t true. We are all divided in one way or another, through rank and position.” She quirked a brow. “Is it not true that you yourself answer to a superior and are subservient to his wishes?”

  Her question caught him off guard. “Yes, but it’s entirely different.”

  “How?”

  Declining to be intimidated, Mason clasped his hands behind his back. He wasn’t sure what her game was, but he wasn’t interested in playing. She might have been able to bewitch Jake Massey into taking her side, but she sure as hell wasn’t adding him to her harem of males willing to serve, and service, her.

  “Because it was my own choice to join the military,” he said. “And, as time passes, I move up through the ranks, and my position changes from one who takes orders to one who gives them.”

  She cut him off with an impatient gesture. “My minister explained this thing called democracy and social equality. It seems to me, though, that little has actually changed. There will always be the leaders. And those who are not in a position of power will be crushed if they do not bend to the will of their superiors.”