“You’re going to get arrested if you don’t cover up,” he told her as he stood up.
Penn snickered. “I doubt that. I’ve never been arrested for anything.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her pull out the tiny bottom. She’d had it rolled up in a little ball and carried it in her bikini top.
Daniel climbed back onto his boat. A T-shirt was lying out on the deck, and he pulled it on over his head. Penn clicked her tongue in disappointment, and he went belowdeck to grab his shoes and socks, the small door swinging shut behind him.
Since he’d moved onto Bernie’s Island, his former living quarters were much more sparse, but that made it harder for him to find his shoes. In transit, they’d moved about, and now they actually had room to slide underneath the bed.
Once he grabbed them, he turned to hurry back onto the deck. He didn’t trust Penn to wait outside without getting into something.
When he pushed open the small door leading back up to the top, he almost ran right into her. She stood at the top of the stairs, her long black hair dripping wet down her tanned skin, and her dark eyes sparkling at him.
“Aren’t you going to offer me a towel?” Penn asked, her voice like velvet.
“Why are you on my boat?” Daniel asked. “I don’t recall inviting you on.”
“I’m not a vampire,” Penn said with a subtle edge to her words. “I don’t need an invitation.”
“I don’t have any towels on board anymore,” Daniel said, answering her question.
He went up the stairs, and since she hadn’t moved, he pushed past her. Her skin felt hot through his T-shirt, and as he brushed up against her, he heard her inhale deeply. That wasn’t what creeped him out, though—it was the strange growling sound.
There was something inhuman about it, and it had a prehistoric quality to it. It was a small noise, one that Penn had seemed to make unconsciously, but it was enough to make his skin crawl.
“I still can’t decide what I’m going to do with you,” Penn admitted with a sigh. “One minute, I can’t wait to devour you, and the next, I’d much rather sleep with you.”
“Why do you want to do anything with me?” Daniel asked. He sat down on the seat at the edge of his boat and pulled on his shoes.
“I don’t know,” she said, and that seemed to upset her.
Daniel looked up at her, squinting in the bright sunlight, and she leaned back against the bench across from him. Her legs were stretched out long before her, and she tilted her head back, letting her hair hang over the edge of the boat.
“Are you familiar with Orpheus?” Penn asked.
“No.” He’d finished putting on his shoes and leaned back. “Am I supposed to be?”
“He’s a very popular figure in Greek history,” Penn said. “He’s renowned for musical ability and poetry.”
“Sorry, I don’t read that much poetry,” Daniel replied.
“Neither do I.” She shrugged. “I never read much of his, anyway. But when I was with him, he’d all but stopped writing and he’d given up his music and went by the name Bastian. The ‘mythology’ says that he died after the death of his wife, but the truth is that he only changed his name and gave up his old life.”
“So he’s like you, then?” Daniel asked. “Immortal or whatever?”
Penn nodded. “He is. But unlike sirens, who gained their immortality through a curse, he got his from being blessed. The gods were so pleased with him and his music that they granted him eternal life.”
“Why are you asking me about this guy?” Daniel asked. “What does he have to do with me?”
“Nothing, probably.” Penn crossed and uncrossed her legs. “We were very close for a while, Bastian and I. He was one of a handful of immortals who was immune to siren song. All the gods and goddesses were unaffected by it, but many of the other immortals—humans who gained eternal life from either a curse or blessing—still succumbed to it.
“But not Bastian.” She stared off, something wistful flitting across her expression, but she quickly erased it. “Anyway. I thought maybe you were a relation of his.”
“I’m fairly certain that nobody’s immortal in my family tree.” He stood up. “Listen, Penn, it’s been great, but I really have to get to work. I have—”
Before he could finish his sentence, she was upon him. She pushed him down so hard, his back slammed painfully into the bar. Then she leapt on him, straddling him. She squeezed her thighs tightly against his sides so he couldn’t move.
One of her hands was pressed against his chest, the razor-sharp fingernails poking through his shirt and digging into his flesh. The other was on his neck, but this one was almost caressing him, her touch soft and gentle.
With her face hovering right above his, her lips nearly touching his, her black eyes stared right into him. She leaned in closer, pressing her chest against his, so his shirt would be left damp.