Page 7 of Taken By the Alien Siren King

“But—”

“Now, Emme.”

I slid back into the water, the cold shocking after the warmth of the drycave. Lairos followed, his transformation instant and fluid compared to my graceless entry. His entire body hummed with contained violence, like the moment before lightning strikes.

Even his song felt different as he created my air bubble. Harder, more controlled.

The water churned with too many questions I couldn’t voice. Who were these Knights? What did his brother have to do with any of this? But as Lairos pulled me deeper into the darkness, his jaw clenched and his eyes scanning the shadows, I realized we weren’t swimming to safety anymore.

We were running for our lives.

CHAPTER THREE

EMME

My head broke the surface with a gasp that tore at my lungs. Sweet, blessed air filled them as my knees scraped sand. I crawled the rest of the way, fingernails digging into wet sand as I dragged myself onto the beach. Every muscle screamed. Each movement ached. But I was alive.

Behind me, Lairos rose from the water like some ancient god of the sea. Droplets cascaded down his chest as his scales and tail melted away, transforming back into muscular legs like he was simply changing clothes. Not a hint of exhaustion showed on his face.

I, on the other hand, felt like a half-drowned rat. No—an angry, wet cat. Did they even have cats on this planet? The thought made me want to laugh, but I feared if I started, I’d never stop.

“Where the hell are we?” I demanded, pushing myself to my feet. Sand clung to my palms and knees.

The beach stretched in a perfect crescent of white sand, lapped by crystal-blue water so clear I could see schools of fish darting between the rocks. Behind us, thick green vegetation climbed toward a rocky peak that dominated the center of whatappeared to be a tiny island. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting everything in gold and amber.

It was beautiful.

It was also completely isolated.

“Somewhere safe,” Lairos said, wringing water from his hair. “For now.”

I glared at him. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that matters.” He nodded toward a small hut nestled at the edge of the tree line. “There are clothes inside if you wish for something dry.”

The hut looked like something from a travel brochure for an exclusive tropical getaway, rustic and charming with its thatched roof and open sides. I trudged toward it, leaving a trail of droplets and footprints in the sand.

Inside, the space was surprisingly cozy. Colorful rugs and cushions covered the sandy floor, with a wooden trunk along one wall. A low pallet bed piled with pillows and light blankets took up most of the space. No technology in sight. No communicator. No way to contact the Legacy or my crewmates.

The trunk held stacks of linen cloth in various colors, but no actual clothing as I understood it. I pulled out a length of pale blue fabric and stared at it, trying to recall the briefing on Khadian fashion.

“Wrap and tuck,” I muttered to myself. “How hard can it be?”

Very hard, as it turned out. After three failed attempts that left me either indecently exposed or so tightly bound I could barely move, I finally managed something that resembled a dress. The fabric wrapped around my breasts and waist, secured with clever twists and tucks, before falling to my ankles in soft folds.

I wished my communicator worked. I could have pulled up the cultural briefing and saved myself the frustration of looking like an idiot in front of a king. But the device remained dead,taken before its time by twin threats of a solid dunking and hours at depths.

I stepped out of the hut to find Lairos crouched on the beach, coaxing a small fire to life. He’d wrung out his linen kilt, but the fabric still clung to his frame in ways that made my mouth water. I tried to look anywhere else, but then the scales down his spine glittered in the dying light and drew me in like a moth to flame.

He looked up as I approached, his eyes widening slightly before a slow smile spread across his face.

“You can hang your uniform to dry,” he added, nodding toward a line strung between two palms.

I did as he suggested, then sank onto the sand beside the fire, keeping a safe distance between us. The heat felt good against my skin, driving away the chill of the water.

“What is this place?” I asked. “It wasn’t on the official tour guide.”

“My private island.” His mouth quirked up at one corner. “I found it when I was a youngling, exploring the reefs. Now I come here when I need time away from court and... assassination attempts.”

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