Ink of Copper

26. In Which a Captive Syren Becomes the Prey

Chapter 26

In Which a Captive Syren Becomes the Prey

W ith Ellie back in her cabin and the ship all to herself, Callassa decided it was time to reel in her big fish. She had played coy with him for several days; now was the time to strike. Rounding a corner, she entered a corridor with floor-to-ceiling glass windows on one side. The sun streamed cheerfully as passengers weaved in and out of each other on their way to events aboard the ship. Eyeing one of the overstuffed brown leather chairs that lined the wall facing the window, she had the overwhelming urge to curl up in one and waste the afternoon. The sun was warm and bright enough that she almost forgot why she was there.

Until she saw him.

Liam was strolling towards her, head above most in the crowd, and a sly smile curled the edges of her lips. He wore shorts and an unbuttoned, white shirt that fluttered around him. Humming a song she suspected he knew, she made sure he was the only one to hear the tune over the chattering crowds. The cuffs dampened her magic to a frustrating level, so she had to rely on her other charms. Crossing to a far wall, she leaned against it, awaiting her prey. If the tune didn’t catch his ear, her standing seductively as she was would.

A trio of women passed by just as Liam perked his head up. He was watching them pass when he stopped dead and swung his head towards Callassa. Her breath caught as his hazel eyes snapped in her direction. Meeting his look with a coquettish one of her own, she ducked into a darkened alcove. Liam followed after, stopping short at a spot just inside. The intensity of his stare caused butterflies to explode in her stomach, and they slammed against each other like a hurricane as a slow smile crawled across his full mouth. His lips parted on an exhale, and the fluttering sunk lower.

She stepped out of the dark and into the half-light the sun offered.

“We meet again.” She softened her voice, drawing him in.

His full lips smirked, and she willed herself to play the game. With the way her insides melted at his gaze, she had difficulty distinguishing who was weaving the craftier spell. Her or him. As he moved, she could all but feel him under her: powerful, controlled, and willing. Her eyes flicked to his tightly coiled curls braided back at the crown and her fingers itched to entangle themselves in those braids.

“Aye, we do, love.” His body now close, heat came off him in waves, as did his scent, soap and clean and male, but there was something else, a hint of something that left her feeling flushed, heated, and hungry. He entranced her, the spell working just as it should. Callassa had to play her cards right, though. Warriors keep most of their human qualities despite being nymphs. The dangerous cat-and-mouse game was about to begin, and she planned to win. He wasn’t much taller than her, so they were almost level when she brought her gaze up to meet his.

“Did you look this good before?”

Liam smirked. “I was going to say the same of you, lass.” He moved them into the light, Liam stepping backward and Callassa following.

“God damn, girl!” some passenger shouted at her as he passed and rounded his hand, indicating her ass.

Liam glared. She growled under her breath at the interruption.

“Ach! Show the lady some respect. If ya had brains, you’d be fucking dangerous.” He shouted at the pair of men and took a small step forward.

Instinctively, she touched his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He snaked an arm around her waist, threading his hand between her shorts and the bottom of her bikini.

“Dickweed,” he muttered under his breath as the two men laughed and kept walking. A slow grin turned his handsome face into the boyish good looks she had noticed in the lounge.

Brushing her hand along his shoulder, she let it rest on his chest. Raising an eyebrow, she watched his eyes half-close at the contact.

Almost have him.

“I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself,” she purred, settling into his embrace, encouraging him to hold her.

Liam took the bait and wrapped his other arm around her waist.

“Mmm.” His voice was deep. “No, lass, I don’t believe you have.”

“Syren.” She smirked as she said it. “My name is Syren.”

“Syren is the perfect name for you,” he said, looping his thumbs in the belt loops of her shorts and pulling her closer. She smiled sweetly and lowered her eyes, fighting the shiver running up and down her spine at being near him. Her spell was working a little too well, even with the cuffs. Gliding a hand up his chest, he shivered, and something tingled through her. She felt the reverberation of her magic push off him and spark through her. Something changed in his eyes when she touched him. It wasn’t lust. No, lust she had seen before. This was something deeper that drew her in, even as she cast her net.

She blinked, trying to break the hold those eyes had on her. Rich green and amber swirled together, seeming to look deep into her very black, bitter heart. Getting close to Liam meant getting close to the Serathena without raising suspicion. Truth be told, she didn’t care what the queen wanted with either the woman or the book, but the way to both was through him.

Unwrapping his arms from around her waist, he winged one in her direction. She felt the instant absence of warmth from his touch.

“Mind a walk?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed genuinely at the mischievous way he teased her. Drawing near him, she placed her hand in the curve of his arm and accepted his escort. She was like a spider stalking a fly. Any sudden movements and her prey might escape.

“Lead the way,” she cooed, dropping her voice an octave, “Liam.”

She knew the effect, and Liam was no exception. Never having seduced a warrior before, she had to be careful not to rouse his suspicions and decided to take things slowly.

Gain his trust, lure him in, crush him.

Gain his trust, lure him in, crush him.

She chanted in her head as they walked. She flirted, allowing him to guide her around the ship, touching his forearm ever so slightly, laughing at his humor, shyly glancing up at him from under her lashes. At one point, she purposefully bumped into his shoulder with her head. He slipped a hand around her waist, holding her closer. Her laugh was feminine and melodious, something she had practiced for centuries. By the time they walked two decks, she had successfully ensnared him, ensuring he would never break free.

“Where’s your room?” he asked coyly, intertwining his fingers with hers. She hit his arm playfully with her other hand.

“You bad boy,” she teased.

“How bad do you want me to be?” His mouth was close to the curve of her ear, tickling her neck and sending shivers through her.

The smell of him flooded her senses, making her feel drunk. She leaned into him, her heart wildly beating against her chest. Like the moon to the tides, her spell weaved around them, knitting her to him. As she shook her head, her dark hair brushed her shoulders. Every touch of his fingers burned, her skin prickling, her body sparking alive. The spell worked better than she hoped, but when it mixed with his, the effect swirled her emotions as if sweeping her out to sea.

Glimpsing a dark alcove up ahead, she knew she had to act now. His hand in hers, she all but dragged him into it. Gripping his collar, she crashed into him, causing him to let out a sound of surprise. His hands were drawing her closer to him in the sea of lust and desire flooding her senses. He moaned when she deepened their kiss, slipping her tongue along his. She nipped his bottom lip, and he pushed her back against the wall and pressing his body to hers. Knowing it would press her breasts against his chest, she arched her back and whimpered at the delicious feel of all that muscle against her, causing heat to pool at the juncture of her legs. Her heart was pounding so hard against her chest that she felt breathless and light-headed. He tasted like cinnamon and whiskey, and it was irresistible. Her plan to be soft and light, a damsel he could save, went flying out the window with her inhibitions. Her fingers clutched at him as her back once again hit the wall. Exhaling softly, she trailed kisses along his jawline. His hands on her body left tiny fires everywhere that she knew only his kisses could put out. They traveled up her back to her ribcage and came alongside her breasts. She was aching for him to touch her. He trailed kisses down her neck, her pulse speeding up with each touch of his lips. Callassa lifted a knee and shifted her hips until she felt him pressing deliciously against her. He growled in her ear and slipped a hand down her raised thigh to cup her ass.

“Damn.” His breath was hot and erratic as he breathed against her neck.

“Take me to your room, Liam,” her request breathy and desperate. She had to have him under her now, right now, or Callassa was sure she would combust right here. This was usually the part she had to fake, but Liam was weaving his own web, and she was happy to be caught. She forgot about the whims of the gods and only focused on him, on them, on this very moment—a luxury she had never had before.

Liam paused. Smoothing a few strands of her hair that had fallen onto her face, he tucked them behind both ears and cupped her face in his hands. He let them travel down her shoulders, then her waist, encircling her with his brawny arms. He laid his forehead against hers, breathed her in, and closed his eyes. Usually, she would continue, get the target to focus on her, to regroup, but she craved his touch. His hands on her like this were more intimate than if they were having wild sex in this alcove. It took a few minutes to regain his composure, holding her like she was precious to him. When Liam lifted his forehead from hers, she couldn’t help but notice the determination in his eyes. As if he had decided he would be her protector, her savior. The thought was so absurd that Callassa furrowed her brow.

His thumbs moved against her back as he bent down a few inches to look her in the eyes. “I can’t love. I can’t take you to my room, not yet.”

Callassa blinked a few times, trying to let the words sink in. Was he refusing her? No one had ever denied her before. The slight curling of his full lips into a smile had her curling her toes amidst her disappointment.

“I’m not rejecting you, a chuisle ,” he whispered, and her eyes widened as if he had read her mind. “Trust me, I want nothing more than to sweep ya up and throw you over my shoulder. But a girl as lovely as you deserves to be cherished. I want ya wrapped up in my sheets for hours, not mere minutes.” He kissed her forehead. “I want things proper with you, Syren.”

The feelings of respect and admiration that flooded her as he spoke almost had Callassa believing him. If she were younger and more na?ve, his words might tempt her. That the pull towards him was more than just lust and her spell, but genuine affection. She had thought it the moment their lips touched. That she didn’t orchestrate all this, but that he felt something more than a spell. She almost hoped. But she wasn’t a fledgling any longer. She was a queen, a queen desperate to free her people. Or at least she had been. Callassa had served so many gods in ways that left her broken and battered that she no longer believed she would be worth anything more than this. Her only control was her craft, and she wasn’t about to give that up for flutters and sighs. She smiled weakly, immediately shifting her demeanor.

“Of course,” she placed a hand on her cheek. “I don’t know what came over me.” She giggled and straightened her clothing, her nipples protruding through her bikini top, gave away her facade.

All the while, she glanced at him, faking modesty. She could feel him fighting her; a carnal pull towards her was the spell, but the resistance was him. The warriors were more powerful than she thought. She knew he wanted her; the bulge in his trunks was evidence of that. But his resistance to take her now and fuck her until she couldn’t walk was new. She felt his powers reaching for her as if his soul cried, but he was denying it. She needed to increase the strength of her spell if this was to work.

Damn cuffs.

Liam drew in a ragged breath. “I’d not want to insult you, a chuisle, but I plan to cherish every inch of you.”

“I’m not insulted.” She put her hand on his chest. “I attacked you and pulled you into this alcove.”

“The boys will be looking for me.” He lowered his stance again so he could look into her eyes. He was asking for forgiveness and permission all at once.

Callassa traced the edge of his jaw with her fingertips. Her pull for him screamed not to let him go. That annoyed her more than his refusal.

“Once I get you alone”—he grabbed her waist roughly, yanking her hard against him—“you’re mine.”

His growl rumbled from his chest as he claimed her lips, demanding and needy. Once again, she found herself boxed in by Liam’s arms and being ravished by his mouth. She slid her hands behind his head and pulled him to her, encouraging him. He pulled back softly, landing tender kisses on her lips. She nipped his bottom lip, drawing it between her teeth, before she let go. For a few seconds, his eyes remained closed, as if he wanted the sensation of her teeth to linger. A rush of desire coursed through them. He was using all his resolve, creating a war of magical wills.

When his eyes popped open, they glowed gold, holding her frozen. A low primal growl tore through him before slamming her back hard to the wall, a hand on her throat. Shocked, Callassa let out a yelp of surprise. He gathered her wrists above her head and held them in one of his massive hands. She hadn’t been frightened of him until now, but face-to-face with his raw power had her panicking. Liam came nose-to-nose with her, his eyes wild, his nostrils flaring. The alcove darkened around them as if the sun itself hid from the intensity of Liam’s gaze. Shadows on either side lengthening.

“Mine,” he snarled at her before his lips were on her, hot, needy, demanding.

Startled at the sudden change, Callassa trembled, her mind racing. If he realized what she was, who she was, she was as good as dead. Trying to calm herself, she rationalized that she was unable to predict how a warrior would react. That the magic was potent.

He let go of her mouth. “Mine. Do you understand?” he said low, threatening.

Callassa swallowed. His thumb on her throat moved with her.

“I understand.”

Then it was gone. The intensity, the power, the demand, all gone. Liam’s eyes returned to their green-hazel swirl; his boyish looks replaced the harshness of a few seconds before. Moving his hand behind her head, he toyed with the nape of her neck. Back to being gentle.

He pushed himself from the wall, removing his body and putting space between them. Her lungs filled with air as if they had been waiting to breathe. He gently guided her out of the dark alcove and into the sunlight.

“You are an absolute stunner,” he said, his expression full of light.

Callassa’s head spun from the abruptness of the change. Letting go of her, he started towards the opposite end of the corridor. He took one step, turned back, and pulled her to him again. He kissed her again, stealing her breath and making her heart gallop. She melted into him, kissing him back. His lips left hers as soon as they touched, leaving her standing for a few seconds with her eyes closed.

When she opened them, he was gone.

After the incident with Liam, Callassa was reeling. She found herself in one corridor that gave homage to the ship’s name. One length of a long wall held paintings of different Greek creatures and myths. Humans loved to depict her world, though it was usually wrong. Stopping to stare up at an oversized oil painting that almost touched the floor and ceiling, she rolled her eyes. Three women lay topless on a rock jutting out over an angry sea. Waves rolled high, white caps and sea foam curling along the top as they crashed together over mounds of sharp stones. A small boat with several men floated just beyond the breakers. The women looked wild. One had a mermaid’s tail that flowed down the rock she sat on and into the raging sea. The plaque underneath read “A Siren’s Song.” Callassa grimaced. The insistence of humans to confuse her kind with water nymphs annoyed her. Naiads were beastly creatures with no remorse for their prey. Sirens were, at the very least, aware of the consequences of their actions.

“Ahh, there you are, my pet.”

The sound of the coarse voice stopped Callassa dead in her tracks, her blood turning to ice. She nervously glanced around the empty corridor.

“You will not find me prancing about this realm, now, will you? Look here.” A flash of light filled the room, temporarily blinding her. Squinting against the sharp pain, she rubbed her eyes, then opened them cautiously. Before her stood the glowing form of Aerelia in all her glory.

Callassa sighed in annoyance. Today just wasn’t her day.

“I’ve only been on board a few days, My Queen.” She crossed her arms, suddenly emboldened on this side of Tartarus.

“And still haven’t brought me my Serathena,” Aerelia said with contempt.

“It’s not as easy as snatching her and running, My Queen.”

“Yes, it is. It is exactly that easy.”

“And risk Athena’s warriors coming for her? I think not.”

The queen stomped her foot. “I need the Serathena, siren. You forget, girl, that while I might be unable to leave my cell, I still control you.” She motioned with her index finger, and the binding cuffs glowed red hot.

Callassa hissed, trying to claw at them, desperate to remove them. The burning heat increased, and she yelped in agony, stumbling into a table and sending a vase flying to the carpet.

“Make it stop!” she screamed, clutching the table’s edge. The binding cuffs immediately went back to gold, and the pain ceased. Fighting back tears of agony, she rubbed one of the offending cuffs as if she could soothe the blistered skin beneath. Her ring caught the light, shimmering with her movements.

“I need the book. Find it. Find it and bring me the Serathena.”

“And if I don’t?” Callassa leveled her gaze, anger seething through her. She refused to back down, even knowing that in doing so, she may cause her demise. At least then, she wouldn’t need to use her body for the gain of another. “It occurs to me that the grimoire isn’t necessary if the Serathena is truly the key you claim her to be.”

She was goading the Dark Oracle. The binding cuffs became the final crack in the fragile glass of her resolve.

“That is my business, siren.”

“Right, well, be that as it may, if I knew the spell you sought, it might aid me better.” Trying to throw the queen off her game, she pretended to be bored as she spoke. “I have searched her room, and it is nowhere to be found. The Serathena must have it hidden, glamoured out of sight. If she can hide it, it stands to reason that she can uncover it whenever she wants. I can bring you the Serathena; you can gather the book yourself. Two birds.”

“You dare question me?”

“Yes,” Callassa mocked, “I dare question you. The book holds all the spells Pandora used in her all-too-brief life. Its magic keeps everything in place: the Titans jailed, Zeusy boy on a leash, you locked up, et cetera, et cetera. I didn’t ask what it held; I asked why you need it.”

This was a dangerous game she now played, but she had a plan all her own for Ellie, and time was running out. One that didn’t involve the queen. One that would give her and her people the freedom they sought. Digging her heels in, she goaded her further.

“Besides burning me with these damn binding cuffs and making it more difficult for me to use my magic in this realm, there isn’t much you can do. If you haven’t noticed, I am free at the moment, and you are in prison.”

“Isn’t much I can do? You forget who you are talking to.”

The glowing image changed between them, and the sight of her imprisoned loyalists glowed before her.

“Which one child? Which one dies today for your insolence?”

Callassa froze, her mouth agape. She knew the Pythian queen was a dangerous foe, but she hadn’t calculated how sadistic she truly was. “No, no. I’ll bring you the Serathena; leave them alone. I beg you, My Queen, leave them alone.”

“I see you have chosen compliance. Bring me the Serathena, siren.”

The lump that formed in her throat made swallowing impossible. She had to figure out a way to get her loyalists out of the clutches of this monster. The Dark Oracle was as cruel as rumored.

“I will do my best, My Queen.”

“And the warrior?”

Callassa blinked. “The warrior? Is that necessary? I can bring the Serathena this evening.”

“He is part of the terms of your freedom—the Serathena’s life for your loyalists. But I have a special plan for the likes of this company, and you, child, play a crucial part. The warriors need to be dealt with the only way you can.”

“No.” Callassa stood firm.

No matter what she had felt surging through her earlier, she wouldn’t give away her body again for anyone. She would bring the queen her precious Serathena but wouldn’t destroy Liam in the process. She knew this game all too well. What starts out as seduction quickly turns her into the siren the gods feared, ripping him apart for a vendetta she was never privy to. A curious sense of protectiveness surged through her.

“No?” Aerelia arched an eyebrow. A slow, savage smile crawled across her face, causing Callassa to recoil.

Aerelia snapped her fingers, and the image shimmered, again showing the prison. One of the prison guards approached a cell and, turning the key, let himself in. Callassa gasped, horrified. Covering her mouth as a scream tore through her, she watched as her handmaid, her friend, was shoved into a corner. The guard had a club in one hand. It arched and slammed down with a sickening sound. In a matter of moments, he left the bloodied scene, and her handmaid lay in the corner, unmoving. Callassa fell to her knees.

“No. No, no, no,” she sobbed, folding at the waist onto the carpet.

“Bring me my Serathena. Or another of your precious people will die. Never question me again, siren.”

Aerelia was gone.

Callassa lay on the carpet, curling into herself; sobs racked her body as guilt swept over her like waves. She had played chess with the queen and lost, and an innocent had paid the price for her arrogance. She thought she could outsmart her.

But no one ever won against the Queen of Pythia.