Page 23 of Ensnaring the Siren

Hot damn. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but Perez was right. This was flirting. A man-eating mermaid was flirting with him. “I’m a Coast Guard.” God dammit. What a spectacular time for his brain to short circuit. “I mean, a Coast Guardsman.”

“I know,” she said, looking pleased as punch. “But I like Coast Warrior better.”

When she said it like that, like something that impressed her, maybe it didn’t sound so silly after all. Maybe he even liked it. “That something you’re into, a man in uniform?”

She appraised him openly, thoughtfully, and as her eyes tracked their way along his body, he felt his cheeks warm. From previous encounters, he should’ve remembered that she usually took what he said literally, and this had been as good as an invitation to check him out.

He was just wearing basic Coast Guard PT gear—a light gray T-shirt and blue gym shorts—nothing particularly flattering. It occurred to him then that she might not know the distinction, that “uniform” and “clothes” weren’t quite the same thing, because the way her gaze lingered covetously on each stretch of exposed muscle, one would think he was decked out in dress blues.

“Merfolk don’t wear clothes,” she said, continuing her slow perusal, and it took all his willpower not to let his gaze dip. “We don’t hide ourselves. That’s not our way.”

While she was mostly hidden by the boat, he had an unhampered view of her sleek, bare back, its ripped muscle, and glistening, sea-kissed skin. God help me. Don’t spring a boner two feet away from her face.

“And yet,” she said, tugging lightly on the hem of his shorts. “Not everything needs to be knowable. It makes me wonder.” The curve of her claws grazed his thigh, sending an unexpected thrill up his spine. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? That she thought about what he looked like under his clothes?

Nope. None of that. His dick wasn’t going to so much as twitch at the possibility. Leaning forward, he used an arm to block her view as he subtly pressed the heel of his hand into his crotch. Coming off an extremely stressful duty period, blowing off some steam made for a nice fantasy, but he wasn’t going to complicate an already complicated situation by getting horny for the mermaid at the center of it all. He had better self-control than that.

“Not missing anything.” He plucked out the front of his shirt, trying to get some fresh air on his skin. “Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

Withdrawing her hand, Nireed returned to her repose. “There’s nothing in the ocean like you.” She said it so softly, he almost hadn’t heard her.

That he might be as much of a wonder to her as she was to him was such an unexpected thought. But it made sense too. They were creatures from two different worlds, as foreign and alien to one another as the universe around them. While their species shared some anatomy similarities, when considering all their other differences, he might as well be from outer space.

“I guess we have a lot to learn about each other, don’t we?”

“This has been a good start.”

A start. So much promise and possibility in that word. Much more than “let’s not be enemies” or even “can we be allies.” She didn’t just want his help, she wanted to get to know him, and that meant there was something here that could be nurtured, if he just made the leap.

He studied her open, hopeful expression, from the sparkle in her eyes to her round cheeks and soft lips. Such sweetness layered over sharp edges, a curious and mesmerizing contradiction. Seeing this side of Nireed almost made him wonder how he’d ever feared her, but the truth still resonated deep in his wary bones, and in muscles primed to flee. Seeing her like this was a gift, a privilege, and one not to be taken advantage of or squandered.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to look with eyes not shadowed by fear.

Her skin was pale, almost translucent in places, no doubt due in part to living hundreds of feet down from the surface, but there was a sort of plushness to it, too, that tempted touch. When she moved, a generous display of muscle rippled beneath, every inch of her a testament to a hard-fought life at sea and regular long-distance swims to the shore. And yet, such strength wasn’t without beauty, each motion flowing from one into the next with a sinuous grace.

Then, the most striking non-human thing about her: the long tail.

It swayed languidly beneath the water, silver scales reflecting the warm tones of the setting sun, a gentle gradient of pinks and oranges, but there was no forgetting it was a powerhouse of strength, one that propelled her hundreds of miles every week.

If he touched her tail, ran his hand along the scales, would she be smooth one direction, rough the other? He continued drinking in the wonders of this mystifying creature, not quite daring.

A small smile curved her lips. She seemed so content resting against his boat, like it pleased her to watch him look his fill.

Most of her hair was wet and slicked back, save for one stray, drying bit, frizzing wildly out of control. He didn’t know what compelled him, but he dipped his hand in the water and swiped down the wayward piece.

He should’ve pulled away then, but his fingers stayed put, lingering on the outer shell of her ear. Her eyes widened, searching his for several long beats, as she touched the piece he’d wetted down, her clawed fingers brushing his. She opened her mouth, then closed it, rendered utterly speechless.

Shit, she was cute, even as she gaped like a fish out of water.

He tapped his finger to the tip of her nose. “You don’t like being dry, Starfish.”

Her cheeks pinkened, and goddamn, he’d somehow managed to make this devastatingly and dangerously beautiful man-eating mermaid bashful.

“I have to go,” she said suddenly, tearing her eyes away. “I’m sorry.”

She pushed off from the boat, and in a flash of silver scales, disappeared beneath the surface.

The abruptness of it shocked him. He thought they were having a moment…

---