To Seduce A Siren Read online

  To Seduce A Siren

  Southern Sanctuary – Book Four

  Jane Cousins

  Copyright©2014. All rights reserved by the author. Do not copy or re-distribute.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Front cover design; Fiona Jayde

  To you guys. For taking the time to read my books and letting me know how much you like them. Thanks for visiting the Southern Sanctuary.

  Prologue

  A look of horror settled over Charisse Bright’s face as she leant closer to the mirror. Was that another pimple? How embarrassing. Quickly she scrabbled through her small cosmetics bag in search of her acne ointment.

  “You coming, Char?”

  In the reflection of the mirror, Charisse met her cousin Hadleigh’s gaze. Hadleigh was twirling her hockey stick like it was a baton, her lips set in a grim line, a look of unsettling, blood-thirsty eagerness in her clear grey eyes. Poor Hadleigh, Charisse was pretty sure her cousin had grown even taller since the last time she’d worn her sports uniform, a mere week ago. The only alternative reason that she could no longer tuck her t-shirt into the waistband of her skirt was if Hadleigh’s boobs had gotten even bigger. Just the thought made Charisse hunch over defensively, praying desperately to the Goddess above in the hope that she was just a late bloomer.

  Once more she critically eyed her reflection, trying not to outwardly wince. “You go ahead. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  Charisse smiled as Hadleigh raised her stick like a battle club, let out an ear-piercing war cry and left the change rooms at a run. Charisse pitied the boys’ team. It was only a practise match this afternoon but it was pretty much guaranteed that one, or more, would be going home via a short visit to the hospital thanks to Hadleigh’s enthusiastic, for want of a better word, competitive spirit.

  Heaving a sigh she applied the spot cream, then just to be cautious, dabbed it on three more suspiciously faint red marks. Goddess, when would her skin clear up? And whilst she was making wishes she might as well pray for boobs and all her puppy fat to disappear. Ooh, puppy fat… even the term was disgusting. But it was that or chubby, neither term particularly flattering. It wasn’t like she was without hope. Occasionally she caught a glimmer in the mirror of her potential, especially in the last few months, ever since her Siren powers had started to kick in.

  Talk about another embarrassing topic.

  Were her powers supposed to arrive in fits and starts? Like the equivalent of her male cousins as their voices broke? Absently she brushed her long auburn hair into a pony-tail, securing it into place with a rubber band. Being a Siren sucked when your own Mother wasn’t allowed to share any details of what it entailed… not that it did involve a tail, of that she was pretty sure.

  But there was definitely some sort of secret handshake, Siren clubhouse going on. All her mother could tell her was to be patient and her time would come. But Goddess, how much more patient did she have to be? She was fifteen and three quarters for pity sake.

  Absently she rubbed her side, where mysterious aches had been coming and going for the past four months, ever since her voice began to do funny, uncontrollable things occasionally. Though, when it had happened earlier today, it had been kind of different, not embarrassing as such, more bordering on the weird. That short jolt of power, it had been kind of… exhilarating.

  But poor Mr Jeffries, her biology teacher, he’d suddenly looked as if he might hurl. All she’d said was his name, but it had come out kind of low and throaty. Charisse found herself flushing at the memory, even to her own ears it had sounded sort of… sexy.

  Mr Jeffries had frozen in place, staring at her like a rabbit eyes a lion, his face pale, his forehead sweaty. Then without any sort of excuse the man grabbed his things and shuffled out of the room, clutching his jacket tightly in front of him.

  Five minutes later, Mrs Permony, the vice-principal, arrived to take over the lesson. Telling them all to open their books and start reading and that there was to be absolutely no talking. She’d eyed Charisse, in particular, as she imparted those last words. Goddess, over-react much?

  Zipping up her cosmetics case, Charisse winced as she bent over to put it away in her bag. Ouch, what was going on with her side? It had ached occasionally in the past but never like this gnawing. Where was the appendix again? If this kept up, no way was she going to be able to play hockey. Dropping into a crouch she tried to work through the pain, deep breaths, slow deep breaths. Goddess, it had never lasted long in the past but this time was proving to be different. Come on, go away stupid pain… ah, it was lessening. Almost gone now, she started to straighten up.

  Goddess damn, she flinched as a bolt of hot stabbing pain shot through first her left side, then her right. Okay not the appendix, she was pretty sure the pain didn’t travel around that fast. Maybe she should… she inhaled sharply as another jolt came, that time it really, really hurt. Goddess, she definitely needed to get some help. She opened her mouth to call out… but no sound emerged. Tears welled in her eyes; she was starting to get really scared now.

  There was an abrupt vicious sharp tug, the world seemed to go sideways and just like that, she found herself staring down at solid rock under her hands, what the…? Oh Goddess, what had just happened?

  Slowly she rose from her crouch. She was in so much trouble. Where in the hell was she? Okay, even she could answer that, she was on a rock, a very large rock, out at sea by the looks of things. Seagulls coasted on the afternoon breeze overhead and the tang of salt water filled her lungs.

  Looking back over her shoulder she released a small sigh of relief. Not only could she see the coastline from here, it was a familiar one; the beach, the bay, the cliffs. She could even see the huge gothic spiral of the Southern Sanctuary Council offices in the town square above the roofs of the shops and houses lining the shoreline.

  Charisse had always loved to swim, had spent a lot of time in this water in fact, but she couldn’t recall such a large rock being out here, what five, maybe six miles from the main beach, and maybe only two, perhaps three miles, from the private beach cove belonging to her Great-Great-Uncle Maurice with its looming, cliff-top monstrosity of a house.

  Had the rock always been here?

  She slowly walked around it and then crouched down to place her hands on the sun warmed sandy rough surface. Breathing in deeply as the power contained in the rock flowed through her. Goddess it was like coming home. Happiness flooded her, as if the rock were welcoming her. Pure joy swamped her, making her dizzy for just a moment. Whoa, this whole thing was intense.

  She couldn’t keep the smile off her face, this feeling, it was almost too much but at the same time it made her feel potent, powerful and untouchable. Without thinking she gave in to an overwhelming impulse, opening her mouth, she began to sing. Around her the rock thrummed and pulsed with sheer elation.

  Charisse was sure she’d never heard the song she was singing before, it was almost as if the rock were feeding her the words. It was beautiful, full of promise and love, yearning, need and desire. And her voice! Goddess, was that really her singing? Husky yet clear, melodic and arresting. Who knew she had it in her. I am Siren, hear me sing!

  She flung her head back, her arms wide, letting the winds carry her voice. This was amazing! She never wanted the experience to stop. Who cared if she was a spotty, flat-chested, chubby teenager, dressed in an ill-fitting sports uniform with one sock falling down. Out here, there was no one to see, no one to care. Above her the seagulls fell silent as if they too were in awe of her amazing talent. The surrounding sea began to grow choppier, waves cresting and crashing against the lowest edges of the rock more frequently than before she’d commenced singing.

  Wow, she never wanted to stop, never w
anted to return to her old life as a mere schoolgirl. Out here, well, out here she was powerful, connected in wondrous ways to the rhythm of the ocean and the winds. Out here she was a Siren.

  The horrendous screech of tearing metal meeting jagged rock decimated her little daydream instantly. Opening her eyes, Charisse stared up in shock and horror at the grey coastguard vessel that had somehow managed to slam into her rock, becoming lodged. She snapped her mouth shut, the song finished, but still the notes of it… the power of it, seemed to linger on the ocean breeze. Why did she feel so weird? Like her life had suddenly shifted on its axis?

  She jumped in surprise as a man popped up, leaning over the railing of the bow of the boat to stare across the rock at her, then a second man, followed by a third, all staring at her kind of intently… strangely. Shouldn’t they be seeing to the boat or something? What numb nuts for crashing in to a rock.

  She was about to ask if they were okay when the first guy, who was old with grey hair, smiled at her kind of dopily and said. “You’re really beautiful.”

  What!?!

  “I saw her first.” The second man said.

  “Well I love her more.” The first man retorted, giving his colleague a hard shove.

  All the while the third man kept rubbing his hands together in front of him, the glint of a gold wedding band catching the light, his mouth opening and closing as if he didn’t know what to say, or how to put it into words.

  The second guy, reared back from the first. “She’s mine. I saw her first.” He pulled back a fist, punching his shipmate hard.

  The two of them dropped from sight, locked in a struggle.

  This just left the third man in view, who finally seemed to have recovered his power of speech. “You’re so lovely. Your eyes are like gorgeous green pools of shimmering water and your hair is like…”

  She couldn’t hear the rest of his compliments over the sound of running footsteps along the deck and loud shouts as several more men arrived on the bow. All clamouring it seems, to get a glimpse of her, as they waved, beckoned her closer, pushing each other out of the way roughly, several of them with their hands clasped to their chests declaring their love. For her? The teenager in the sports uniform with the bad skin, chunky waist, flat-chest and socks that refused to stay up?

  Oh Goddess, the realisation hit, she had caused this. What had she done? It was horrible. How could she have been so irresponsible, so reckless? She’d been drunk on power. A wave of self-loathing filled her, battling with several other emotions; giddy elation, smugness and supreme satisfaction.

  Except those last weren’t her emotions, she stared downwards in horror, no, on no; those emotions were coming from the rock.

  A sudden realisation clicked into place, the rock was sentient and it was female. Somehow, prior to the boat running aground, the rock had managed to mask its true self, its emotions from her. But the boat ramming the rock had acted as some sort of catalyst, the moment it had hit, a bond had snapped into place between her and the rock.

  Oh Goddess, she was connected to the rock, she could sense the bond now as clearly as she could feel her own hand.

  Another wave of emotion hit her, travelling through the bond, threatening to engulf her… an overwhelming, bordering on suffocating feeling of possessiveness. And something else… something much, much, worse… hunger… pure unadulterated hunger.

  Goddess damn it, being a Siren quite literally sucked… she was a fricking straw for a ravenous rock.

  Charisse grit her teeth in determination, unconsciously pulling up first one drooping sock, then the other… we’ll just see about that bitch.

  Chapter One

  Charisse stood at the bar contemplating her options. She needed a drink… a big drink… a potent drink. She deserved one. She’d just spent the past hour hiding amidst a throng of admiring towering males, listening to them shower her with increasingly questionable compliments whilst she utilised their large muscular frames as a living shield.

  Word at the party was, her Cousin Darcy wanted to talk to her… the only problem being, Darcy never just talked. She had an uncanny knack of always getting her own way, with anyone caught in her vicinity invariably dragged into the mayhem, lucky to emerge by the skin of their teeth whilst Darcy skipped away unscathed, carrying some new shiny prize.

  Well, not this time. Charisse was prepared to use any means necessary to keep Darcy at bay. Even if that meant creating a human fortress, she glanced back over her shoulder sending a forced smile to her barricade of eager admirers, standing shoulder to shoulder behind her… good boys, good cannon fodder. Thank the Goddess for the Valhalla men, Hadleigh’s cousins and uncles, no one did looming better than those mountain-sized warriors.

  Hmmm, now back to that drink. Before she could make up her mind, three of the bartenders stepped up to offer her assistance, discreetly trying to elbow each other out of the way, silently fighting to be the one to serve her.

  “When one emerges the victor to do your bidding, I’d like a glass of champagne.”

  Charisse looked to her left, fighting hard to keep a pleasant expression on her face rather than give any indication of the abject terror that had instantly seized her. “Great-Aunt Alma.”

  Oh Goddess. Oh Goddess! Great-Aunt Alma was the family match maker. After a long absence, she’d been lured back into the family fold, charged with helping the determinedly single younger generation in the Southern Sanctuary find meld matches. In fact, she was the reason they were here today, celebrating the formal meld marriage of her cousin, Hadleigh, to Maat warrior, Vaughn.

  “Charisse darling girl, you look wonderful as always.”

  Charisse could say the same for Alma, who was an elegant petite woman, dressed today in a stylish silk light blue jacket and skirt. Her sleek grey shoulder length hair was flicked out at the ends whilst her brown eyes glowed with warmth and affection. Thankfully for Charisse, there was no sign of the gold sparkles in their depths that signalled her Aunt was getting her matchmaking gloves on… the boxing kind, not the dainty, elbow-length debutante kind.

  Alma was a tricky, devious - any means necessary - kind of match maker. It was all Charisse could do to lock her knees together and not run away screaming in terror. Being melded in their family meant for life… their very long lives. No thankyou very much, you could count her out of that equation. Charisse had enough eternal millstones around her neck with the bitch-rock, she didn’t need a man to add to her troubles.

  “Are you having a nice time darling? Met any nice young men?”

  Alma’s query sounded harmless enough but everyone… everyone, knew that their Great-Aunt was far from harmless. If she took an interest in you, it did not bode well regarding your chances of retaining your current single status for long. Charisse fought not to cringe, just keep smiling she reminded herself.

  Alma glanced back over her shoulder, giving a soft throaty chuckle. “It seems like you’ve gathered quite the gaggle of admirers as usual.”

  Charisse forced her smile slightly wider. “You.” She pointed at one of the three bartenders still politely jostling one another for the privilege of serving her. “Get me a glass of champagne and a gin and tonic, make it a double.”

  One of the discarded bartenders promptly burst into tears whilst the other sank to the floor, curling up into a ball. Charisse heard her name uttered along the bar by various disgruntled relatives. Seriously, could they not see she was in crisis-mode here, with Alma nipping at her toes? She needed a drink and she desperately needed an escape plan.

  “So you’re not here with anyone in particular?” Alma enquired politely. “I’m only asking because I have several delightful young men who’d I love you to meet.”

  “Oh, I think I’ve already got more young men on my plate than I can handle right now.”

  Alma fiddled absently with the large diamond stud in her ear. “I’m talking about someone special darling girl. Someone who’s right for you.”

  Charisse glared at the ba
rtender; of course she’d have to choose the one who moved slower than molasses. “To be truthful Aunt Alma, I’m really not interested in meeting anyone special right now… or even in the future for that matter. I like my life. I like being single.”

  Alma reached over, patting Charisse’s hand affectionately. “Everyone says that, right up until they meet their match. Trust me. Just meet this gorgeous young man I know…”

  “Oh, your champagne. Here,” Charisse thrust the glass into her Aunt’s hand and grabbed her own drink. Turning on the spot, she caught a glimpse of a black bobbed head over near the dance floor. “Oh look, there’s Darcy. I know she’s been looking for me… Special Council Liaison business you know.”

  “Oh well.” Alma gave a small regretful smile. “You run a long then darling girl, business before pleasure.”

  Charisse felt Alma’s eyes trained on her as she made her way across the room, squeezing and wriggling her way through the flock of warrior admirers she’d been using for protection only a few minutes earlier. To be brutally honest, Great-Aunt Alma and her match making machinations scared her way more than Darcy and her madcap schemes… and that was saying something.

  “Darcy… Darcy.” She went up on tip-toe, waving to get her cousin’s attention. She could still feel Alma’s gaze on her from across the room.

  Darcy raced forward, grabbing her cousin by the upper arm. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Darcy sent a distracted ‘go on - I double dare you - keep following us’ death look at the large group of Valhalla warriors continuing to travel in Charisse’s wake. The majority of warriors, the older, more seasoned ones, sensibly stopped in their tracks.

  “So someone just mentioned at the bar, of course I immediately came looking for you.” Charisse kept her green eyes wide, praying Darcy wouldn’t see through her lie.