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Daughter of the Siren Queen

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Tricia Levenseller

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“Why are you on my ship?” Reading my father’s note seems to have brought on a bout of distrust. He watches me carefully, his eyes turning inquisitive. “Is it not obvious?” “If it were, would I be asking?” I say, irritation coloring my tone. He smiles as though I’ve just said the most amusing thing in the world. It makes me want to hit him. Since that’s not the best idea, I turn around to leave him, but he puts his hand on my arm. Before I can do anything else, he’s right there. His chest pressed against my back, his breath warm on my ear. “I’m here because when I tried to get in that rowboat with my brother, I realized the last thing I wanted was to be away from you.” His hand runs up the length of my left arm, which is facing toward the sea. Away from the eyes of the crew. “I’m here for you, Alosa.” His fingers flutter against my neck, sending a shiver down my back. “If you can’t tell that, I’m not doing a good job of showing you.”

“Her fingers slid into his thick hair, exploring his scalp. The scar was a long one. The blow that had caused it must have nearly split his skull open. As she touched his head, she heard his breath catch. "Does it hurt?" she asked, instantly removing her hand. He shook his head with a short laugh. "I'm afraid you're causing me another kind of pain." Perplexed, Lara stared into his eyes, and her gaze dropped to his lap. To her mortification, she saw that her innocent touch had aroused him, causing a heavy, unmistakable ridge to strain against his trousers. Lara flushed and jumped back from him. The remnants of his grin lingered. "Pardon, sweet. A year of celibacy has erased whatever self-control I may have once possessed.”

“He jerked the second ribbon free, and the gown sagged to her hips. Growling in pleasure, Hunter kissed her belly, his tongue flickering around the rim of her navel before dipping delicately inside. Lara moaned in astonishment, jerking at the hot, moist touch, her fingers clutching at the rough silk of his hair. Hunter pushed his head against her midriff with a tormented groan, and slid his arm around her waist. "Don't stop me," he breathed. "Please." He picked her up as if she were a child, lurching toward the bed in a few drunken strides. Placing her on the mattress, he followed immediately, his large body levering over hers, his hands framing over her face. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue plunging and exploring her mouth, while she moaned in fearful delight. Tentatively she raised her arms around his neck, and his throat hummed in pleasure.”

“You have eyes like a mermaid," he murmured. "Soft, pale green. Beautiful." "I knew it was only a matter of time before you walked in during my bath," Lara said, trying to sound calm although her heart was pounding. "Your request to see me in that negligee made it quite evident that you're a shameless voyeur." Hunter grinned. "I've been found out, it seems. But you can't blame me for it." "Why not?" "After more than a year of sexual deprivation, a man has to have some pleasure." "You could expend your energy on something more productive," Lara suggested as he came closer to the bath. "Develop a hobby... collect something... take up chess or pugilism." His eyes twinkled at her prim tone. "I do have a hobby, madam." "Which is what?" "Admiring you." She shook her head with a reluctant smile. "If you weren't so annoying, my lord, you would almost be charming." "If you weren't so beautiful, I wouldn't be annoying." He gave her an easy masculine grin. "But I plan to annoy you often, madam, and someday you'll like it." He took another step toward the tub. "Brace yourself- I'm coming closer." Lara went rigid, thinking of covering herself, screaming, splashing him... but she did none of those things. She remained in the tub, stretched before him like a pagan sacrifice. Hunter made no obvious show of staring at her, but she knew that he took in every detail of her body as it shimmered beneath the scented water.”

“There was a fire in the grate, too far away for Lara to feel its heat. Goose bumps rose on her chilled skin. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to obey, taking one step, then another, the fine Aubusson carpet prickling beneath her bare feet. As she came near him, the firelight shone through the transparent black silk. She knew he could see everything, the flashes of ivory skin, the shape of her body, the dark triangle between her legs. Her face burned as she stopped before him. Hunter sat like a statue, his face and hair dappled with light from the dancing flames. "Oh, Lara," he said softly. "You're so damned beautiful, I..." He stopped and swallowed, as if it were difficult for him to speak. His faint smile had died away, and he set aside the wine bottle as if his fingers had become nerveless. He barely seemed to breathe as his gaze swept from her bare feet to her breasts, lingering at the pink tips that strained against the delicate lace. The room no longer seemed cold, but Lara continued to tremble. "I made a promise not to touch you," he said hoarsely, "but I'll be damned if I can keep it.”

“What are you smiling at?" "You." He surveyed her with a look of masculine interest that was rapidly becoming familiar. The lazy smile remained on his lips. "I'll wager that everyone who knows you considers you to be soft, sweet, and accommodating. But you're not." "What am I, then?" Hunter's hand slid behind her neck, and he urged her forward until their lips were almost touching. Lara felt the warm touch of his breath, and her stomach turned over in excitement. "You're a lioness," he said, and released her without kissing her... leaving her to grapple with an absurd sense of disappointment.”