I step into the tub, every muscle in my body tensing at the onslaught. The water is cool, causing bumps to prickle along my skin. My own mind turns traitorous, begging me to take in the water, aching for the power and surety and revitalization that come with it.
I know that as soon as I allow myself to sit down, the water will consume me, and I will be helpless to take it in. To be the siren is to never be afraid. To never hunger or thirst. Never doubt or worry. Never fear. It is an existence unlike any other. Carefree and wondrous. Sometimes I crave it, but I also know that with it comes the lack of all things human. Causes me to forget all the humans I love so dearly.
I don’t want to forget, but I need the siren to beat my father. I’m sure of it in a way that I can’t explain. If only I can merge the two halves of myself to achieve it.
I let myself sink into the water. My worry morphs into confidence. Weariness turns to strength. I lie down, letting power envelop me. I raise my arms to stretch, to swim, but they crash against metal.
What the—
This is a container. Not the sea. No, I can feel my precious ocean below me, separated from me by meters of wood.
Clawing my way downward isn’t an option. I have to leave the water in order to reach my real home.
A voice calls to me from above. “Alosa, get out of the water.”
The voice is male. The same male from before. The pretty one. The one I’ve still failed to turn into a corpse.
I raise my head out of the water, peer at him through eyes that see so much better under the sea.
“No human commands me!”
I wait for him to cower, to shrink away. But if anything, he holds himself taller.
“Part of you is human, too. Let it out.”
I stand, my eyes landing on the exit. The human is between me and it. I raise my first finger, examining the pointed claw at the end. “I think I’ll draw a line across your throat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” My tongue curls around a sweet note, letting my will become this man’s as well.
“Yes,” he says eagerly, extending his neck toward me.
I could draw the prettiest red pictures all over you, I sing. I delight in deciding where to start. With that muscled torso? On his lean legs?
But being away from the sea is like having an uncomfortable itch; I need to hurry back to her.
I suppose I’ll just have to take him along with me. I step out of the tub.
And hiss through my teeth as red hot pain slices into my arm.
There’s another human in the room. A woman hidden from my sight until now. Her sword drips with my blood. I’ll tear off the arm holding that sword.
But before I can move, a body presses against my back. One arm clamps around my waist, the other bars across my shoulders and chest. A chin rests against my shoulder, pressing a scruffy cheek next to mine.
“You will not harm those you love, Alosa,” Riden says. “Not while I still breathe.”
My legs lose their strength. I’d tumble to the floor if Riden weren’t still holding me. Tears prick at my eyes, but do not fall. My stomach turns at the thought of what I almost did. To Riden. To Sorinda. To the rest of the crew.
I could have killed all of them.
“I’m me,” I say quietly, trembling. The movement is shaking Riden, too. I absorb the water still clinging to my clothes, thinking perhaps I’m only cold.
But the shaking doesn’t cease.
“We’re done for now,” I say to Sorinda. “You can go.”
“I’ll send for Mandsy,” she says, nodding to the cut she gave me.
“No, I’ll tend to it. I think I need to … to properly process.”
She doesn’t argue. I love that about Sorinda. She leaves silently. I don’t even hear the door close behind her.
“You can go, too,” I say to Riden, who still has himself tucked behind me.
“Not yet,” he says, holding me as I wait for the shaking to subside. When it does, I say, “We are never doing that again.”
He loosens his hold on me, letting one of his hands rub circles into my back. “Yes, we are.”
I turn on him, breaking his hold on me completely. “How can you say that? You haven’t liked any of this from the beginning. You only did it because you’re too damn selfless for your own good.”
“I care about this crew. So do you. That’s why we have to try again. Until we get a handle on this, just as we have with restocking your abilities.”
“I was overconfident. I thought it would be easier because we’d practiced so much beforehand. But this was different. I nearly killed you and Sorinda. Then I would have been loose on this ship. I don’t even want to imagine the damage I could have done.”
“But you didn’t,” he says, trying to reach for me.
“Why are you trying to touch me!” I scream at him, losing my composure. “I disgust you. My powers terrify you. You can’t stand to be near me. You don’t have to pretend.”
Riden freezes in place. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know, Riden.”
“And I suppose you know my mind better than I do?”
“It’s fine, Riden. I can handle the truth.”
He pulls a hand down his face, as though trying to erase the tension there. “I don’t hate you or your abilities, Alosa. I only needed time to adjust to them. To get over everything that happened to me in the past.”
I’m quiet for a moment. The horror of what I almost did still swirls inside me, like a storm waiting to be unleashed. There’s just too much that I’m feeling right now. Too much for me to be silent.
“I can’t get over the way you acted when I saved you,” I say. “You made it seem like I sing to men for sheer enjoyment—as if they’re toys for me to play with. You should know by now that the only time I use my voice is when I need to protect my crew. That includes you. When you fell in the sea, I didn’t think, Riden. I didn’t remember our deal. The only thing I could think about was the fact that you were in danger. I acted. I jumped.”
My voice gains strength as I talk, as I fill the words with meaning, with emotion. The way humans do, not sirens.
“But even if I had stopped to remember,” I continue, “I would have made the same choice. I couldn’t help myself. When it comes to you, I have no control over my actions.” Those are the same words he said to me after we escaped the cannibal island. I can see by his face that he remembers, too.
“I know that,” he says. “I know that you never use your abilities for your own amusement. It’s just not the way you are. In the moment, I couldn’t see that. It was easier to believe you were manipulating me just like my father used to than to think you were saving me because you actually cared. I can’t take back the way I acted after you saved me. But honestly, this”—he gestures to the salt water in the tub—“these moments where we work on controlling your abilities, they’ve helped me grow as much as you.
“You are perfect just the way you are,” he continues, “and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”
I want to pull his face down to mine. Kiss him until I can’t breathe. His eyes intensify, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing. It sends a searing heat all the way down to my toes.