Siren’s Call: Cursed Seas (ebook)

Prologue

Lightning split the sky, and thunder cracked. Vibrations rumbled along the bones of the tiny cottage. Howling wind battered the window coverings and invited splatters of rain inside.

Nerissa’s fingers clutched the hand-woven blanket close as she shifted on the bed that served as a couch during the day. The ropes creaked in response until she laid prone.

In between lulls from the raging storm, her pulse pounded loud in her ears. Please be safe, Pateroúlis. A sailor—her father was again away at sea. The only good that came from his absence was his inability to witness her night terrors. For several years they’d plagued her, their duration of late only increasing. Tonight would be no different.

The gale raged outside just as much as the one brewing in her subconscious. As the fury of the storm lessened, she drifted into slumber’s precarious embrace.

Morning came fast, and with its arrival, the cry of seagulls filled the air. Waves rolled in wild abandon against a newly rearranged shoreline.

Nerissa jerked upright—drenched in sweat—mouth wide with a soundless scream. Gaze darting, she ground herself in the sight of the well-worn cottage she and her father called home. She took slow measured breaths to banish the remnants of her nightmare, which oozed with familiarity and bred soul-sucking terror. The element of her dreams varied last night.

Dropping her legs to the floor, she stood and went about her chores. No matter how hard she tried, the sights, sounds, and message of her vision remained.

The actions she bore witness to, held captive in slumber, unleashed something that had yet to come. A woman, dressed in a ceremonial gown, toed the cliff side. Nerissa’s senses heightened. The spirit of the woman pushed over the edge clawed at her

Chapter One

The gods walked among them. Nerissa’s village believed in, worshiped, and feared them. To her, the unseen gods posed little threat. Cete did. She’d been cautious, but no more. Today, her father was due home. The only gray spot on his arrival was her impending nuptials to a soon-to-be determined husband.

Nerissa tapped her sandal-clad foot on the cobbled Grecian street. Across from the port, she rested against the wall and scanned for a glimpse of his ship. Sunlight painted bright splashes across the vessels bobbing in the harbor and glinted off the choppy waves.

Deep in her chest, spidery veins of anguish elongated. Marriage weighed on her mind with the passage of her seventeenth birthday. At fourteen, her father had arranged her first two marriages. Before uttering vows, the sea claimed their lives. She had hoped the echoing expanse of time would ease the ache. Familiar with a sailor’s life, she thought to marry one. So far, it wasn’t meant to be.

Toying with the fabric of her chiton, her fingers worried the colorful, blue dress. Torn by anxiety and excitement, she flattened her other palm on the barrier of stacked stone, grounding herself.

Usually, her emotions were calmer, but when left to her own devices they soared in many directions. A seaman by trade, she and her father lived a simple life by the water, their cottage modest with meager means, but rich in love. When he was home, Nerissa’s responsibility was maintaining their home and the small garden in their courtyard. These last few months were different. She had convinced him to let her remain home when he left, rather than stay with Eirene’s family. Things had changed when Eirene’s father chose a husband for her. Now when her father was gone to sea, she would go to the agorá, marketplace, to fetch water without a chaperone. There was another reason she preferred to stay in the cottage when he went to work.

When the dreams came, Nerissa preferred to be alone.

She wondered if her dreams somehow tied her to her mother. Maybe they were the reason her mother left them. When she asked her father about it, he’d always deny that was the cause. The unspoken burden of it being her fault weighed heavy on her chest. There were too many things her father kept from her. He’d told her it was also because her mother didn’t want to leave her home and the comforts of it. It’s my fault.

In the past couple of years, Nerissa’s emotions grew tenfold. When both of her betrothed perished at sea, her destiny reeked of abandonment. Those reflections stained her soul. No one was privy to them. They never guessed from her sunny disposition her inner turmoil. What good could come of exposing her fears?

Shaking off her wayward thoughts, she relished the warmth of the summer day. The stone at her back offered a small amount of shade. For the hundredth time, she scanned the choppy waters of the Aegean Sea, casting her gaze along the horizon. He’s near! Her heart hammered as she spotted a ship approaching. Nerissa straightened, stretched a slender arm over her head, and waved.

Excitement pinged in her chest. She pushed away from the wall, desperate to shorten the distance, heedless of the villagers and advancing soldiers. Her sandal-clad foot struck the dock then jerked back. A firm hand wrenched her arm. Pain radiated through her. Stifling a gasp, she looked over her shoulder to see who held her.

Cete.

Air wheezed out of her mouth as if a clay brick had hit her in the stomach. Why had she not been more careful?

Dark hair curled around his ears and just above his tunic. His cruel lips formed a tight line as he towered over her much smaller height. Too well, she understood the dangers of being alone with him. Fear crawled over her skin. What happened to cause him to look so aggravated?

“I have been searching for you, Nerissa.” He moved closer as he spoke her name.

“Cete, you’re hurting me.” She held her breath as sick pleasure danced in his kohl eyes. Pushing down on the escalating panic, she tugged her arm, trying to break free. “What do you want?”

From the top of her head to her toes, his gaze raked over her body. Her stomach turned—the dress. She had made a colossal mistake.

“Finally, you are out of mourning. Soon, we will wed.”

No! If his father and hers decided they would marry, she had no choice in the matter. That was the way of things. Father loves me; he would never tie me to Cete, regardless of the political connection. Locking down her muscles hard, she remained standing by a small miracle. The edges of her vision swam with black.

“My father is not yet returned, Cete. Please release me.” Forcing strength in her voice, she lengthened her spine.

Crowding her, he bent down to whisper in her ear. “A mere formality.” Rough, unshaven skin scraped her cheek. “You feel the bond between us as much as I do. Fate calls for us to be together.” Straightening, he captured her chin in his large hand. “Soon.” With a nod to the dock, his gaze remained locked on hers. “He will be home, and then we’ll negotiate the marriage. The time is now.”

Bile rose and hit the back of her throat. His nickname and nature echoed in her mind and froze her in place. Bone Crusher. He set his sights on her, claiming their union was destined. A former resident of Rome, Cete returned to Euboea several years ago. He frightened her.

Some said he came back to reunite with his father. The most repeated rumor surrounding his reappearance spoke of an unseen hand compelling him to go back to the village. Speculation was that his father had manipulated political strings, so his son could begin anew. A son who had terrorized and ransacked residences. All knew his favorite method of fighting had been with a whip, club, and shield. So barbaric. An unsalable sadist, he took immense pleasure in punishing those who went against him—crushing their bones with his club.

The leaders decreed he serve as a foot soldier, a guard to the Oracle, and a sailor aboard one of his father’s ships. His status had improved some, but many were watchful.

Dowry, his family must need it to replenish what they had used to secure his release from Rome. Unable to stop the quiver that ran through her, she took a tentative step back. With her upper arm restrained by his grasp—she bumped into someone. Swiveling her head, she met kind eyes, and her knees buckled with relief.

“Nerissa, I did not expect to see you here. Eirene requests your company, and help, with our new infant.” Keeping his hands on her shoulders, Marcus moved sideways. He pulled her with and forced Cete to drop his too-tight grip. “Cete, you are wanted at the temple.”

She repressed a shudder, having avoided the temple that sat high atop the cliff. Often when she neared the sacred land, violent emotions swarmed her, followed by enchanting whispers.

Spied from the corner of her eye, her father’s boat drew closer, and her breath caught in her throat. The seconds lengthened. Cete seemed to war with himself before turning his large body in the direction of the cliff.

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