Page 46 of Ensnaring the Siren

In, out, in, out. “You’re so good at sitting still.”

Her breath stuttered, then resumed, deeper than before.

“There you go. Deep breaths.”

In, out, in, out.

“Good girl.”

She clutched his forearm, her grip surprisingly gentle, but firm. “Reid?”

“Yeah, Starfish?” He stilled, thinking she needed a break, but when he looked up, he saw her cheeks were flaming red.

“I’m going to need you to stop doing that.”

That wasn’t pain talking. She sounded too embarrassed. “Doing what? Stitching?”

“No, not that.” Her voice was strained, pleading.

Confused, he drew back to assess the situation.

Oh.

Some of her silver scales at the base of her pelvis had retreated to reveal a pink, glistening slit beneath. Swallowing thickly, he met her eyes once more. He had wondered. And now he knew. “Praise kink, huh?” he joked nervously, reaching for a sheet to pull over her waist for privacy.

Her nostrils flared.

“I guess we’re even now.”

“Even?”

“First night we met.” He sprung his finger in demonstration. It hadn’t been arousal that did it, but she’d seen what he’d been packing, and that counted.

A slow smile broke out across her lips. “I remember.”

She relaxed after that, and Reid finished stitching her side in comfortable silence.

He moved on to her tailfin, which she told him had been mauled by a shark attracted to her blood. The flowy membrane was thicker than it looked, and piscine in texture, but took to the sutures well enough. And Nireed said she didn’t have much feeling there, so sewing it was a cakewalk by comparison.

Once she was cleaned up and bandaged, he peeled his gloves off and stood. The cabin of his boat looked every bit like the makeshift emergency room it became, so he set to straighten the place up, clearing away bloodied blankets and biohazardous trash.

When it came time to change his sheets, she stiffly scooted off the bed and into a nearby chair. He moved quickly to get the bed remade.

“You’re really brave,” he said, tucking in the corners of the new set. Then, threading his arms under hers, helped her back in. “You know that, right?”

She watched him intently but didn’t reply.

He sat next to her, taking her hand, and marveled at the smooth webbing between each finger, the texture so much like her fins. “For the record, I don’t hate you. Not even close. When I saw the bullet holes on deck, I was afraid something had happened to you.” He swallowed, clasping her hand between both of his. “I thought they’d killed you, Starfish.”

She cupped his cheek, turning him to her. Her amber eyes were a warm place to get lost in, glowing soft as lantern light, and her smile was sweet, and a little unsure. “You were afraid for me?”

“Terrified.”

He stared at her mouth, drawn to it. He knew what lurked behind those sensuous lips. He’d heard the screams, seen the blood that had coated her lips. And yet. He wanted to devour that mouth. Throw caution to the wind and capture and plunder it until the world fell away and he forgot all sense and reason. Until he forgot his name and why he shouldn’t fall for this in the first place.

Wasn’t that how all the tales went? Sailors lured in by beauty, lonely and wanting, only to find death at the other end of a pretty smile.

“Reid?” Her gaze flicked down, just a moment, before meeting his eyes once more, searching.

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