Up close, she was devastating.
Curly dark hair that fell past her shoulders, begging for his fingers to tangle in it. Skin like cream, flushed now with fear and something else. And her eyes—gods, her eyes. Green like the deep ocean, flecked with silver.
Siren eyes.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.
“Siren.” The word came out strangled. “You have siren blood.”
She tried to jerk away, but he held firm. Not hurting her—he could never hurt her, the bond wouldn’t allow it—but not letting her escape either.
“Please,” she whispered, and he hated how that single word made his chest ache. “Please, I didn’t choose this. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Neither did I.” The admission was torn from somewhere deep inside him. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wanted to be mated to—to—”
He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t say the words that would make this nightmare real.
His mother’s face flashed through his mind. Beautiful, kind, loving. Drowned by a siren while his father watched helplessly. He’d been twelve years old when they’d pulled her body from the ocean, her lips blue, her eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.
The sirens had lured his father into the water during a coastal summit. His mother had jumped in to save him. She couldn’t swim well. By the time help arrived, it was too late.
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