“Wetter than the sea,” he breathed, setting the sail to catch the wind. And then he shoved two fingers inside. Slick gushing around his digits, obscene and eagerand not meant for him. “Oh, yeah,” he crowed, watching her writhe with a sick, brown grin stretched wide over rotten teeth. “Made for this, ain’t that right? Made to be bred, huh?”
She shook her head when her voice failed her. A twitch of denial too small to matter, for it didn’t stop him. He only drove his fingers faster, working tight, graceless circles around the base of her clit. Delighting in her hips jerking and dancing at his command as he sailed toward a destination she could not see.
A sob tore free of her throat—silent and reedy—a gurgle of horror for the monstrous hunger consuming her in unholy flames.
Her body convulsed, forced toward the cliff of a climax she didn’t want but couldn’t resist.
Because it wouldn’t help.
“Gonna ride you good,” he groaned, still circling her clit. “Fuck you like a man.On land. Where you can’t give me to some cursed sea demon.”
Curling into the bottom of his boat, net digging into tender skin, Kore shuddered through a weak climax that only ignited the desperate need in her nerves.
“Almost there,” he hummed, abandoning her slit to haul on the rudder.
They hit the shore with a thud.
Cursing, the fisherman jumped into the shallow water, huffing as he dragged the boat higher on the sandy beach.
Kore tried to thrash, tried to fight the netting as the last of the sun’s heat retreated across the sea. As night curled around her with a velvet hiss, a distant glimmer of stars twinkled in the endless black high above.
Reaching into the boat, the fisherman snagged the netting and hauled her up. Out. Sweating, he pulled her over the edge of the gunwale with a careless thump of soggy, boneless limbs.
She hit the sand hard.
“Hush now, beastie,” he hummed, stooping to bind her tighter in the netting, then dragged her across the shore. Taking delight in her ragged breaths, in the wide, glassy eyes with pupils blown wide.
Impact.
Her belly hit a log of driftwood with a splat.
Grunting, the fisherman bent her in half, adjusting her hips until she was, “Perfect. Aye,” he murmured, agreeing with whatever it was he saw. “Exactly the treasure I thought ye to be.”
Lips sagging, Kore hissed a wordless protest as the net cut into her wrists and elbows, chaffing her hips, her ribs. Digging into tender flesh as she was positioned across a log, hips raised for only one thing.
There was a moment of stillness.
The wind blew through her, chilling wet flesh, and she looked back. Turning wide, helpless eyes upon the man, she saw it.
Scales. A sea of stars glittering in the night, sprinkled across her thighs and wrists. Her lower back and upturned ass.
And there, beneath her skin…
… pulsing blue veins, throbbing in time with her frantic heart.
She was changed.
Alien.
A… a Siren.
Stepping back, admiring his handiwork, a smirk split the fisherman’s weathered face. “Now that’s a sight, ain’t it?”
Kore didn’t respond. Couldn’t beg around a throat shredded by desperate want of the sea. She understood now.
Too late.
The man didn’t care.
