Page 32 of Siren Problems
I take a shaky breath and press a hand to his chest—right over the place where I know his magic sleeps. His heart pounds beneath it, wild and uncertain.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I admit. “And yeah, I’m still pissed you keep half-answering everything like it’s a riddle. But... I think I’m falling for you anyway.”
His breath hitches.
And still, he doesn’t move.
So I smile, just a little. “Terrible idea, I know. You’re broody. Possibly cursed. Bad at compliments. Definitely allergic to feelings.”
He finally exhales a laugh.
“Don’t fall too hard,” he says. “I break things.”
“Try me,” I whisper.
And I swear—for just a second—helets me see him.
All of him.
And I fall a little harder than I should.
CHAPTER 12
CALDER
This is a mistake.
I know it before we’re even in the water. Before Luna wriggles into her dive suit with a grin and says something flippant about sharks and romantic trauma. Before she flashes me that stubborn, damnably brilliant look that saysI’m not afraid of your ghosts.
She should be.
The shipwreck sleeps beneath the cove’s far edge, wrapped in seaweed and old spells, sealed in silence that was once sacred. It was a royal vessel—mine, technically—before the sea turned on us. Before I turned on it.
And I’m bringing her here to scare her off.
To show her what loving mereallycosts.
But the second she dives in after me, smooth as a siren herself, my chest tightens.
Because deep down, I’m not sure I want her scared.
I want her tosee me.
But that’s the worst part, isn’t it?
She already does.
The wreck loomsup from the sand like a beast’s ribcage—splintered timbers and twisted metal etched in coral and regret. Magic clings to it like algae, low and hungry.
Luna hovers beside me, eyes wide behind her mask. Her hands move—graceful, efficient. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. The comm charms between us hum quietly, synced to the leyline she anchored to the boat.
“I thought this would shut you up,” I mutter, voice muffled through the spell-linked comm.
She flips me off. Cheerfully.
Gods help me.
I lead her down the sloped hull, hand brushing the worn wood as if it might still breathe. There’s a hatch near the stern—half-collapsed but passable. Inside, everything’s warped by time and pressure. Silk banners hang like jellyfish. Broken chests glitter with salt-kissed coin.
