Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I don’t even know if she’s still breathing.
I stand close to her, grasping the spikes in my hands. The seawater drips off her in a steady cadence, but other than that, she doesn’t move. My gaze lingers on her breasts, a temptation I have to ignore, even though my cock is already throbbing wildly at the slightest provocation.
Then, I see it. The slightest inhale. Her chest rises and falls, her nostrils flaring slightly. She’s breathing through her nose and into her lungs. The Syren can both breathe underwater and above.
Satisfied that she’s still alive, I grab two silver chalices, placing them beneath her wrists. I then grab an empty cask and position one of the spikes right below her wrist. With a swift motion, I drive the butt of the cask against the top of the spike, driving it right through her arm and into the wood. Blood spills from the wound, pouring into the chalice below as splashes of red dot the floor.
She lifts her head up and stares at me in horror.
Right before she screams.
Chapter Four
LARIMAR
Pain explodes from my wrist, shattering inside me, pulling me out of the comfort of darkness until I’m thrust back into the world.
A horrible, dry world.
My eyes open, a high screech ripping from my raw throat, my lungs burning as they struggle to be used, to find oxygen in the air. It feels like I have stones set on top of them, and I’m gasping, wondering why I have been brought back from the dead and into such agony.
There is a man right in front of me, the strange, otherworldly scent of him filling my nose. He winces at the scream coming from my mouth, and somewhere, I hear glass shattering from the power of my voice.
But the man doesn’t stop what he’s doing. I see a long, sharp spike in his hand, and he quickly places it against my other wrist before slamming it in through my arm with a round wooden object. He moves so fast my eyes can barely track his movements; he’s just a blur, a smudge in the air.
The pain hits me even faster.
I scream again, thrashing against the spikes that have me nailed against a plank of wood. It causes my flesh to tear, blood flying everywhere. The man tightens the ropes around my arms, ensuring I can’t do any more damage to myself, and the pressure on my lungs lifts a little. My tail below smacks wildly against the ground until I’m able to keep myself supported.
Then, the man takes the end of the rope and slams it into my mouth, as if he wants to keep me from screaming.
As if that will help.
Fool.
I stare right into his eyes and bite down on the rope, my teeth slicing through it with just a few snaps of my jaw until it falls, frayed and free.
His brows rise, and he looks impressed more than anything.
This is the first moment I really take a look at him.
Because he’s not like most men, is he?
When I saw him in the ocean, I thought perhaps he was another fisherman, one who had come to investigate what I did to the others. One who wanted revenge.
And I welcomed it. Because of my injury, I knew that eating another’s heart and liver would go a long way to fuel me until I healed.
It seemed too good to be true, and it was.
I had grabbed his ankles hard enough to snap the bones, and yet, they didn’t break. I hauled him down from the surface and went in for my attack.
But when I got a look at his face, I realized this was no ordinary fisherman.
He was handsome in a beautiful way that most humans aren’t, with a strong jaw and nose, bright blue eyes framed by long black lashes, coupled with a brushy dark beard and long, black hair. His aura was unlike any human I’d ever had the pleasure of devouring.
But it was his eyes that struck me as the most unusual, that made me think he perhaps wasn’t human at all.
They held no fear in them whatsoever.
Instead, they danced with excitement.
With violence.
Before I could act, he opened his mouth, showing off a pair of sharp fangs, and simultaneously found the knife wound in my back, digging his fingers in until I screamed in agony.
The last thing I felt was his teeth on my neck, a hit of pleasure until I blacked out from the pain.
Now, the man stands in front of me, those same cruel blue eyes staring at me with a mix of respect and malevolence.
What are you? I want to ask. What do you want with me?
I decide to scream again since it bothers him so much.
The corner of his mouth quirks up in a cold, calculating smirk. With regular humans, a Syren’s scream can immobilize them, but with this man, it does nothing.