Page 9 of Lured By the Siren

His muscled chest shows me that he does not spend his days simply lounging about. He is lean, athletic, and perfectly alluring. The shadows from the fire’s flames dance over his toned torso and show off all the planes of his lithe form. Even though he’s currently unconscious, I can’t help but admire the view and enjoy the feeling of being utterly alone with him in this cave.

It almost feels like with the lull of the waves, the twinkling stars overhead, and the dancing flames casting shadows across the walls, we are the only people in the world.

My night is full of restless sleep, jolting awake whenever my head lulls too far in either direction. The first break of light is cresting over the horizon as the sun's tendrils reach out toward us. The fire has burned down to embers, and the temperature has warmed considerably since last night.

I slip my hand under the blanket and pat down the sailor’s clothes to make sure they’ve thoroughly dried overnight. He’s still breathing in a labored rhythm, and I worry he has a major head injury and possibly several broken ribs.

Gently, I pull back the blanket to examine him further. The flutter in my stomach rears its head again at the anticipation of seeing what’s barely concealed under his thin shirt. I roll him to the side and my fingertips graze the edges of his hemline as I peel the shirt from his back.

Just as I thought, the gash is scabbed over, but it’s angry and red with a purple bruise spreading outward covering a large portion of his back.

As carefully as I can, I press down on the bruise, doing my best not to hurt him further. I can sing another song to heal him, but that would take more energy than I have after an entire evening of sleeping with one eye open and no food.

There is a flower just past the cove that can help speed up the healing process and maybe wake him from this slumber long enough to learn his name. So, I pull his shirt back down and bring the blanket up to cover him, heading out for what I need.

I cast a parting glance at his serene face before leaving, and I want to know what color his eyes are. I almost roll my eyes at myself. I feel like a love-sick guppy, and I don’t even know this man’s name.

Making my way around the curve of rocks that encapsulate the cove, I head down the path I know will lead me to the jindera flower. The sand crunches under my feet as I let my mind wander, thinking about the sailor and the life he just lost. He seems well fed, and his clothes are finely made. I wonder who he was and what possessed him to pass through these waters.

Large bright yellow flowers with a dark blue center greet me as I reach the jindera bush. They each have five petals spread out wide, making them look like stars sent straight from the heavens.

I pluck several to carry back, knowing the other sirens may need more at the village if any other men survived from the ship. I need to get him to the village soon, but a selfish part of me wants to keep him here all to myself.

I make my way back to the cove just as the sun is fully seated in the sky and the tide is starting to recede. Coaxing the fire back to life, I gather supplies to boil the flowers in water to create a healing tea along with a paste to cover his wounds.

While I walk around my cove gathering supplies for the paste, I let my mind drift back to the last few hours. I spent so much time healing him, I’m sure he will be fine and with the heat from his skin finally cooled. I know any creeping infection is vanquished.

When he wakes, will he remember whispering sweet words to me as I healed him, or calling me angel and saying I tasted like heaven, while also telling me all the things he wanted to do to my body? Heat rises through my chest and up to my cheeks at the memories.

I lather the paste over the wound on his head first, delicately brushing back the curls that seem to have a mind of their own. Just as soft as I imagined, I let my fingers linger, resisting the urge to run my fingers through his scalp for the second time.

The man’s eyelids flutter open as he begins to wake, and I find myself holding my breath. He was so delirious last night that I’m not sure he actually saw me clearly.

How will he react when he sees me fully?

A wave of nervousness races through me at what he will say when he realizes I’m not a human, but a siren.

He blinks at me sleepily and tries to rise but winces, obviously still in a great deal of pain.

“Don’t try to get up.” I say quickly, “I’ve spent all night trying to heal you. I don’t want you to ruin all my hard work.”

He squints at me, and I don’t think he can see me clearly still. I place a hand on his forehead, checking for any lingering fever, but he feels normal.

“What happened? Where am I?”

His voice is gruff, and it sends a thrill through me that I try to shake off as I say, “You were in a shipwreck and badly injured.”

“The storms,” he frowns, and then tries to get up again. “My crew! Where are they? Are they okay?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if your crew survived, but you really need to try to stay still. You would reopen your wounds.” I lay a hand atop his chest to try and keep him down and it works. He’s far less restless beneath my touch.

He squints at me again, “My spectacles, where are they?”

“You’re what?”

“I can’t see well without them. Did they fall off in the storm?”

“Oh, you mean that strange device that was on your face?” I reach for the discarded object, but then pause halfway to them. “You can’t see me at all right now?”

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