Chapter 1

ONE

Merrick

“Hey hottie!”

Fear stabbed my chest like a pike, and I whirled around, flinching away from the two females who sat in one of those tiny, colorful boats that were popular with humans. I liked these boats; they lacked sharp blades and made the humans work to propel themselves through the water.

An honest boat.

The first female had bright yellow hair, nearly white, and held a large, fake fin in her hands. Human hands were no good at navigating in the water. The other female had straight, black hair. Both of them had skin too light for this sun. Already it was tinged pink from being out on land for too long.

“I said, ‘Hey, hottie!’ ” she said again.

Hey, hottie!

I recognized the words said, but the context didn’t make sense. I wasn’t hot though … nor was I cold. Human slang and speech patterns changed quicker than we could catch up with.

Most of my friends liked to stalk humans from the safety of the water, always hoping this one time would be the one where we'd find a siren born. A few even dared to walk among them, desperate enough to find a partner. But I resisted all of that. I knew what would be required if I successfully bred with a human female, and it didn’t sit right with me.

That didn’t mean I was immune to my instincts, however.

“H-hey, hottie,” I said back. It seemed right.

Females turned me into stuttering messes. Females meant change to my daily routine, and unknown futures with unknown expectations where I’d never again be left alone to do my art—

It wasn’t the fact that I was flitting about on the surface again—no, that was expected from a male of breeding age. Encouraged, even.

The blonde wiggled her eyebrows. I’d apparently done OK. I tread the water. They looked down at me, waiting. I stared at the pearls dangling from her earlobes. They were a pink color I had never seen in the ocean! Maybe I could ask her about them? The sun flashed off their sparkling rings, and not for the first time I wished I could figure out how to mimic the flare of the sun underwater.

“Wanna come back to our place?” The one with yellow hair leaned forward, her breasts bunching underneath the bulky garment she wore strapped to her chest.

The human females were interested in me, paddling toward me and reaching out with their fingers. All thoughts of speaking to them fled as my brain turned to mush.

I flinched backward, nearly stumbling and falling to the water. One sniff as they neared confirmed what I’d already known: these were not siren born females. They were not suitable for breeding.

Phew. Pressure averted.

I said nothing, mentally chanting at myself to keep my arms and hands above the water. If my extremities got wet, they’d grow scales and fins. Then the females would scream and draw attention.

I breathed out, trying to relax. At least they weren't fishermen. Her boat carried no hooks or poles. No nets or sharp things with which to take from the ocean with no intent to give back.

We stared at each for a long moment.

“I must go now,” I said, figuring that was the easier path.

“Wait—”

I dove into the water, scales erupting over my chest and arms as I pushed off with my tail. I swam out hard down the large canal, staying underwater so the females couldn’t follow me.

You’re going to be late.

And that was the least of my worries. I also needed more shells to finish my latest piece. Running into the two females had wasted a lot of time, so I couldn’t waste anymore and would have to go straight home. Luckily, I had one place close that I usually saved for emergencies. I had just enough time to check a spot on the edge of the canal, then I’d have to go.

Females. Of all days to actually run into some.

Once we turned sixteen, the elders told us to wander the shores, don clothing and walk among the humans. It was why we learned their language from an early age as well. Males must choose a female to breed with, after all. Even if suitable females were getting harder and harder to find. I never protested. After all, it didn’t affect my art—my father didn’t know if I was off hunting females or sea glass.

Father expected a lot from me—to one day take over the clan from him, to beat out all the other males my age and find a female, breed, and bring more mers into the clan.

There was a spot where the land ended in a point, and the canal met the open ocean. Just before that the canal water was much calmer, and usually an abundance of shells where the rough current of the ocean met the water from inland.

But calmer water usually meant more people as well.

Just get in, and out .

Thankfully, there were no humans today on the water or on the shoreline. Toward the tip of the coast, I navigated between the thick reeds and scooped the murky bottom for the best shells, broken or not, and slipping them into my satchel. No sea glass today, unfortunately. Pressed for time, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings as well as I should have been. I hung my satchel on the end of a gnarled old tree sticking out of the water to give me a better range of movement as I dug into the sand with both hands.

“Ack!”

Distracted as I was, I didn’t see the netting invisible under the water. It caught my tail as I twisted around, settling around the edges and squeezing dangerously tight in seconds.

Ow!

The water rippled out a few yards front of me, a rough scaly head poking out to give me a sniff. The alligator gave me a wary look, and I growled, flashing my fangs at him. He sank further into the water, instincts telling him I was more trouble than it was worth.

Cautiously, I pulled against the woven netting. It was tight, but at least it was woven rope. It wouldn’t shred my scales like a fishing line would. Perhaps I could simply break it?

I yanked hard, but it didn’t give. I tried this a few times in vain, even diving below the surface to pull at it with my arms. The anchor of this snare was set deep into a rock, and the net only constricted tighter around my tail the more I struggled. Even if it wouldn’t cut me, it was still uncomfortable. My knife sat in my pack on a tree nearby, just out of reach. I growled at my idiocy.

My mind whirled with the implications. I’d be late for the clan meeting, and Father would send others to look for me. It would be embarrassing and painful for everyone involved, but at least I could claim I was hunting for a female. Father would be mollified by that, even if it wasn’t true.

As if that mattered. Father and the other clan chiefs thought the siren bloodline was finally dying out since our clan hadn’t had a birth since young Taro, who was now twenty-seven. Most of the males were thinking it was nearly impossible to find a suitable female any longer, and there was talk of just breeding any female to see what would happen.

The wind shifted, and I froze. The sound of humming floated over the breeze.

Someone was coming.

I’d always been told as a boy that when I found a human female who carried the blood of the sirens that I would simply know , but I never truly believed it.

Not until now.

My body and hormones went haywire as the smell of the ocean and waves hit me, but with more. Her scent carried a sweet undertone my kind lacked. She smelled like the sun and hope. She smelled like determination sharpened to the hard edge of a knife. She smelled like a subtle, spicy undertone hinted at the warrior bloodline she carried in her veins.

I tried to breathe normally and not frighten her.

Or myself.

My mind struggled to believe what my senses were telling me .

A female capable of giving birth to merfolk. And you found her.

Hot need exploded through my body, shocking me senseless. I’d been coming to the surface ever since I became of age, but had never run into a siren-born. Not in twenty years. Now that I had, my body ached for this female. It was like a lever released after decades of being held down.

My first visual of her was her as she paddled toward me nonchalantly, a clear indication she hadn’t noticed me.

The female was thicker than most of the ones that wandered up and down the shoreline with mere scraps covering their bodies. Most of them looked as though they might snap in half if grabbed. This one looked sturdy. Strong. She wore a garment that covered every part of her. That was smart. From what Father said human skin tore easily,. And humans always get cold.

This female was intelligent.

Her chest and stomach puffed out comically with one of those floating shirts that humans felt necessary to have when in the water. Foolishness. One could either swim or couldn’t. Her brown hair was held back with a string, gathered into one long tail in the back. Golden highlights winked at me underneath the setting sun. Her eyes were a bright green.

She worked the fake fins to move her boat closer to me, and I forgot I was trapped in the netting. Flailing backward with a giant splash, she turned toward me.

I panicked like a frightened guppy, but there was nowhere to run.