His blue eyes scan the room with lazy interest, lingering on everyone present just long enough to assess.
“What a charming welcome committee.” His voice is silk and honey. “I feelsoimportant.”
His gaze finally lands on me.
“Andyoumust be the famous siphon.” He crosses the distance between us in three fluid steps, taking my hand before I can react and pressing his lips to my knuckles. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
His voice is smooth as sin, but it’s not just the low, sultry intonations. I recognize the signature of magic within it. The slight vibration that lingers long after the soundwaves themselves have gone still.
I guess it makes sense. He is a siren, after all.
A chorus of snarls echoes around the room when he touches my hand. If I didn’t know better, I’d think one of them came from Villeneuve, but his face is utterly impassive.
“Have you?” My voice comes out flat as I withdraw my hand before the alphas can tear into him like a pack of wild dogs.
“All good things.” Vyse’s smile shows too many teeth. They’re… sharp. Holyshit. I knew sirens were carnivores, but I’ve never actually seen one in person.
Sean is still growling.
Vyse’s attention shifts to him with renewed interest. “Oh, hello again, farm boy. I see you’ve gotten a new accessory since our last meeting. Very butch.”
“Huh?” Sean asks obliviously.
Vyse ignores him, turning to Micah and Rowan. “My goodness, all of you are so… giant,” he muses, walking around them. He raises a hand to his head, then holds it out as if to compare. “I’m six-three. That makes you what, six… five?”
“Six,” Rowan says warily.
“Micah’s the little guy out of the bunch,” Sean says, putting an arm on his shoulder.
“I’m six four, that’s fucking huge!” Micah snaps. “Why the fuck are we even talking about this, anyway?”
“Guess it’s true what they say about wolves,” Vyse muses.
“Wait, what do they say about us?” Micah asks innocently.
Vyse ignores him and his gaze returns to me. Those unnaturally blue eyes sharpen. “How interesting. You’re wearing a glamour.”
I go cold.
“Most witches can’t even see glamours,” I manage.
“I’m not a witch.” He tilts his head, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. “What are you hiding under there, I wonder? Something fascinating, I suspect. Glamours that good always are.”
Okay, so apparently, sirens can see magic. Or at least this one can. Good to know.
Villeneuve steps between us before the others can. The movement is smooth, but unmistakably deliberate. “What did you come for, Vyse?”
The siren’s attention shifts to him. Something unspoken passes between them before Vyse sighs dramatically.
“Straight to business. You never were any fun, Elias.”
“Elias,” Sean echoes with a strangled snort. “I forget that’s your name.”
Villeneuve pins him with a look that could freeze the sun. “I trust since you’re here, you’ve found something worth sharing.”
“My research has hit a dead end,” the siren says with a dismissive wave. “I need to see the bite victim in person.”
The wolves growl in unison. Even Rowan, who’s usually the calm one.
