Page 30 of Ensnaring the Siren

She’d seen pictures of the creatures, including ones where they’d been given unwanted baths, their tiny bodies tensed in quiet rage as they stared at the camera with yellow, unamused eyes. Apparently, many of her mannerisms reminded Lorelei of them, and if Reid thought so, too, it must be true.

“They keep staring.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do you think they know what I am?”

His gaze fell on her, soft and thoughtful. “Nah. I don’t think that’s why they’re staring.”

“Why, then?”

A blush pinkened his cheeks. Whatever it was, he seemed reluctant to say it.

“Reid, just say it.”

“You’ve noticed that humans hide their bodies behind clothing,” he began, cutting sharply to the left, then opening the door to a public Surface Dweller establishment.

“Yes,” she affirmed, following him inside. “Am I not also?”

There were seating arrangements lining the wall to the left, a wall of bottled liquids to the right. Reid led them to a table near the front, sliding into a chair, away from a small group of Surface Dwellers who were singing and playing instruments. Given how loud they were, she appreciated the distance.

When she slid into the chair opposite him, he leaned forward, keeping his volume discreet as he said, “The way that dress is clinging to you…” He paused, rolling his lips. “Well, it’s almost like you’re not wearing clothes at all.”

Looking down at herself, she noted how the wet cloth stuck to her skin, the shape of her breasts and nipples visible. A quick survey of the room revealed that this was not the case with any of the Surface Dwellers. “Does that bother you?”

“No.” He sat back, drumming his fingers along the tabletop. “If they don’t like what they see, they should look away.”

That made her smirk. “What’s not to like?”

He just rolled his eyes. “You’re a shameless flirt, you know that?”

“I don’t know what ‘flirt’ means, but I am shameless.”

The Coast Warrior snorted.

A strange Surface Dweller abruptly approached their table. “What can I get you?” she asked cheerfully, hands perched confidently on her hips.

Nireed reared back. What was happening? Why was this woman talking to them? Should they run? Fight?

Beneath the table, Reid’s hand settled over her knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he turned to address the person. He didn’t falter for a second and asked for something called an “An Acadia Lager.”

Taking a deep breath, Nireed attempted to match his easygoing posture.

“And for you?” The woman turned her smile on her. This one met her eye and in a way that denoted respect.

Nireed inclined her head. “The same, please.”

“You got it.” And then she was gone, off to fetch whatever Acadia Lagers were.

“Smooth,” Reid commented, studying her thoughtfully. “For a second there, I thought the claws were going to come out, but you handled that quite well.”

“What just happened?”

“She works here as a server. It’s her job to come ask what we want. She gets paid to bring visitors food and drinks.”

“Oh.” Nireed watched with fascination as the woman approached other tables, repeating the gesture. “I see.”

“I take it merfolk don’t have bars and restaurants?” When she quirked an eyebrow, he rephrased the unfamiliar words for her, “Public eating and drinking establishments.”

Nodding her understanding, she replied, “Not like this. We hunt together and feast together, but nothing so”—she waved a hand—“I don’t know the word.”

“Formal?” he offered.

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