The Pirate and His Siren

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

LUARNA

“ W hat is wrong with you?” I ask, perplexed, as Ikina jerks when I run the comb through the locks of her long black hair.

She’s been fidgeting and anxious all day, so I offered her this pampering session.

Nothing is more relaxing than getting your hair brushed. Well, maybe a scalp massage, but I’d already done that.

“Nothing…” She twists to the side, her dark almond eyes peering up at me, and begins playing with the pearl strands connected to the middle of the silk bandeau, covering her cleavage, the same midnight blue as her tail. “Do you know it’s Velade ia cietra tomorrow?” While we are speaking the common tongue to each other—it’s a handy language for all sirens to lure in males—she speaks Udiran, the shared language of sirens and merpeople for the holiday’s name.

“Ugh, it’s merpeople’s day of love eve.” My shoulder gives an involuntary shudder. This is the day when sirens flee the sea or keep clear of the mermaid colonies.

While we sirens love a night of debauchery and fucking, it’s the celebration that goes along with this holiday that disgusts us.

The thought of a forever mate makes me shudder.

“Our colony, Sieren, is close to Valis, a village of merpeople. Last time, their celebrations spilled over into our colony, and I swear some sirens were caught up in the aftermath.” Shaking my head, I part the strands of her hair and begin threading them together in a braid.

“Ha, ha, yeah…” Her voice drops off, which I think is odd, but dismiss it. Ikina isn’t a talkative one.

“What are you going to do to escape it?”

She straightens suddenly. “Do you think that maybe the merpeople are onto something? About love and mates?”

I snort. “No, love doesn’t exist for us. Sirens are destined to be single for the rest of our lives.”

Her shoulders hunch over. “I suppose you’re right. I might try somewhere new to escape it… maybe hide out in a cave somewhere.”

“You sure you don’t want to come with me? I’m thinking of going to one of the human villages along the beaches of Wasatell.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I don’t really want any land males at the moment.”

“Suit yourself.” I finish off the plait, tying it into the other braid to lay them around her crown. “There… you look beautiful.” I squeeze her shoulders and place my cheek next to hers, as usual, envious of her high cheekbones. Though out of the two of us, I have the more magnificent boobs. Great for enticing males, but a bit of drag in the water. I usually have to bind them tightly with a piece of purplish blue Olienter silk, which I twist around the middle so the material emphasizes my cleavage .

She places her hand over mine and squeezes. “Thank you.”

“Come on, let’s get that sour look off your face and go have some fun.”

Ikina and I spent the rest of the day swimming around, chasing porpoises.

But the entire time, Ikina seemed distracted, so we returned to my place, where she said her goodbyes and left.

I watched her swimming away, and now I want to go after her.

Something is wrong with my friend.

But I never got the chance to go after her.

My mother’s voice swept toward me on the current, full of disdain. “Was that Ikina I saw just now?” She enters my home without me inviting her in. All single, non-family sirens’ homes are simple cave-like structures with wide-open arched doorways and windows that allow in light but are too small for other adult sirens to swim through. Ones like mine consist of only one room with a table in the center, a bed off to the side, and a mirrored vanity. The glass is spelled by Manicans to allow one’s reflection to be seen in the water.

My mother places her purse, which is little more than an iridescent blue silk pouch usually slung around her shoulder, on the round table in the center of the room—what she keeps in there, she never shows me. “That one is strange. Mark my words… she will bring shame upon all of us sirens.”

I grimace before pushing the growing hatred I have for the female who spawned me, which I believe she only did as her duty to continue our race, down into the dark recesses of my body, and plaster a smile on my face before I spin around to face her.

“Mother, how lovely it is to see you.”

Why are you here?

“Yes, well, I stopped by to warn you that its Velade ia cietra tomorrow. I can’t state how important it is for you to stay away from any merperson on their wretched holiday.”

“Of course, Mother. I was hoping to go ashore.”

“No, the humans like merpeople. You’d be best to stay away from them too.”

“Of course. I’ll swim to the deepest parts in the Bay of Udira.” Lie.

“Good. The last thing I want is for my daughter to be influenced by the magic the merpeople conduct on that day with her celebrative rituals.” She grips my chin with her long-nailed fingers. A siren doesn’t have claws, but my mother’s are close enough to having them. She turns my head from side to side, the tips of her nails digging into my skin but not enough to draw blood.

“You take after me in looks.”

It sounds like she is complimenting me, but her words contain a hidden barb, especially when she lowers her eyes to my breasts. Her mouth pinches in a hard line. “But it’s such a pity about these.”

My mother and I share the same olive skin with golden undertones, dark hair, and eye color. Our tails are an ombre of cyan blue blending to a purplish pink down the center, but that’s where the similarities end. My hips and lower dorsal fins are a blend of rainbow colors edged with black.

My tail is the most colorful a siren can have. The only other with such a tail is the Siren Queen herself. My mother often brags it’s because our bloodline came from a usurped queen who ruled long ago.

Hence, why she always criticizes my behavior and looks. I don’t act like I was born from royalty, even though neither of us have any royal ties or claims to the throne.

I always suspected my mother was jealous of my breasts but chose to put me down as a way to belittle me.

An agitated flick of my tail is the only outward reaction I allow myself to show.

Inwardly, her words score across my heart like the stinging tentacles of a jellyfish. However, I’ve learned how to deal with my mother over the years.

Luring a male requires confidence, an act, and the art of seduction.

So I use those skills she taught me to put on an act of confidence, never to let her see how her words cut into me. Instead, I did the opposite and grew confident in my body. Still, it never stops her cutting remarks.

But the best way to disarm her is to smile prettily and push my boobs up even farther.

I wrench my face out of her hand, gritting my teeth at the scratches they make, and swim to the entrance, indicating she should leave.

My mother grabs my arm as I move past her, speaking softly to me, “Don’t disgrace our family’s name. Stay away from the festivities, lest you be affected.”

“Of course, Mother. I’m not some simpering mermaid.”

She huffs and twists away, flicking her tail near my face. “Make sure you keep it that way.”

Once again, I hide how the insult affects me.