Page 3 of Siren Sins
One of my captors was an attractive black-haired dream and he leaned against the curved wall with graceful ease. He wasn’t watching me, and instead crossed his arms as he gazed through a tiny window. The sun reflected specks of gold in his otherwise breathtakingly blue eyes.
The other, an Asian who boasted colorful tattoos that accented his refined biceps, didn’t look outside, but fearlessly watched me as if daring me to attempt an escape.
Not that I had anywhere to go. My hearing was dulled by the air pressure trapped in my ear cannals that I couldn’t relieve due to my bound hands. I opened and closed my jaw until the dull throb eased. My stomach rolled as the plane leveled off altitude.
At the very least, I had my wits. Derek had gone into his own compartment of the plane to feed and replenish his power. As the moans decreased, some of the women already gone silently to their deaths, I contemplated why he didn’t feed on me.
The last time I’d lain with the Incubus King and his wife, I’d helped to create the first Demonspawn to walk the earth. My Blood Stone had been empty at the time, which had likely saved my life.
Another sharp cry pierced the cabin as a woman endured a powerful orgasm, followed by utter silence.
“He’s killing those women,” I snapped to my closest captor.
When the Asian guard spoke, it was in a flurry of round words that were beautiful, but made absolutely no sense.
He paused when I blinked at him with incomprehension. “Really? A succubus who can’t speak Shanghainese. Where did Derek dig you up?”
I frowned. “Did you just say ‘Shanghai-nese?’ Is that really a word?”
He glowered. “Yes, it’s a word. It’s the official language of Shanghai; a dialect similar to Wu.”
I blinked again. “Wu. Like, dejawu?”
He pursed his lips. “I believe you meantdéjà vu.Shanghai also has a large French quarter, so don’t insult me with improper French.”
My French sucked, but it still pissed me off that a dude who spoke something called “Shanghainese” would let me know it sucked. “Wu,” I repeated the word. “The fuck is Wu?”
“It’s a language spoken in China,” he informed me coldly.
“Like Mandarin?”
He rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever. Let’s just call it ‘Chinese.’ That work for you, blondie?”
I growled and strained against my restraints. My wrists throbbed against the iron chains that lovingly pressed my arms into the heavy armrests. Judging by the cold the chair leeched into me, it must have been made entirely of metal. Derek didn’t take any chances.
“Father says only I can talk to her,” one of the Incubus’ sons reminded my Chinese-Wu-Shanghainese captor.
He rolled his eyes again, seemingly just as annoyed with the bastard prince as he was of me. “He’s notmyfather,piyan.”
“Did you just call me a ‘peon?’”
Dream Asian-man rolled his shoulders. “No, I called you apiyan.Apparently, I’m surrounded by monolingual morons.”
Instead of tossing a punch, like I expected, the human born of an Incubus waltzed to my side and gripped my arm, hard.
Tattoos bulged as the vein on the Asian’s neck throbbed and his eyes blazed with anger. “Did he say that you could touch her, too?”
His smile sent a shiver of warning down my spine. “I don’t need permission.” His fingers slipped over my collarbone. “If my brother can touch her, I’d say she’s free game.”
The time I’d spent with Nate was nobody’s fucking business. I was going to find him, Luke, and then get the fuck out of Shanghai.Nobodywas allowed to touch me right now. Rage made the Blood Stone at my chest go red hot and he yelped, jerking his hand away as blisters formed across his palm. “The fuck!”
My tattooed captor laughed with genuine amusement. “Careful, she bites,piyan.”
“Bitch,” the Incubus King’s son muttered before bursting through a curtain and out of sight.
“Sorry about him,” my captor said, as if he was going to actually be cordial.
I narrowed my eyes. “Careful, or I might think you guys are playing ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop.’”
