Page 60 of Siren’s Secret

Wave didn’t know how long she had been out of it, but she roused to the soft voices of Irishen and Jarred talking. She kept her eyes closed and breathing even, trying to prolong the haze where she didn’t need to confront the world.

Periodically between their conversation, she felt both of them reach out in their bonds and check on her. The touches were so light that they didn’t disturb her, but they kept coming. Little strokes and caresses filled with reassurance that she was fine. Safe. They wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

Jarred dropped a soft kiss to her forehead. “Good morning, love. Ready to wake up yet?”

“No,” Wave mumbled and buried her face into his—no, Risha’s chest. She was surrounded by the males, one side of her body blissfully cool and the other heavenly warm. Hellion might be the prince of hell, but he had nothing on Jarred’s warmth.

“How are you feeling, morsel?”

“Nhgn,” Wave groused. She wasn’t sure. Most of last night’s events were a haze in her mind. The look on Irishen’s face had cut her deep and then he had shielded against her. She didn’t fucking know how to get up and walk away, so she kept her face hidden like a coward and prolonged the moment.

By some miracle, he was holding her now, but she was way too raw to process it. Her powers swelled and thrashed in response to the idea of leaving. It twisted her insides, but she would have to do so, soon.

Wave bit her lip. She should do what was right and find a way to free Jarred, too. It was selfish of her to keep him with her. Put him in danger. She had let her loneliness win when she had listened to Sinister. Telling him had been a mistake. Not because he would betray her, but because she could never be enough. Because she would always bring danger and destruction to those around her.

Stupid. Irishen’s reaction had driven the point home. Even her mate shied away from her, his reaction fully justified. Her siren heritage was repulsive, dangerous.

She had deluded herself into the belief that it wouldn’t be that big of an issue. They were powerful males; they could hold on their own. But it wouldn’t be enough. Not after the word got out—and it would get out. She had lost control too many times lately, leaving behind plenty of little traces and clues if someone dug deep enough.

They were all looking. Even Hellion and Marc. She was the acknowledged heir apparent now. There wasn’t a being in this realm who wasn’t keeping their eyes open. She would have to come up with something that would lead the trail away from Tracthesian, away from them—

“You are not going anywhere without me, love,” Jarred’s grumble cut through her spiraling thoughts.

“Morsel? Mate?”

“It won’t work,” she mumbled. “There’s no point…” She took a fortifying breath and pushed up and away from both of them. She managed to lean back, but then four hands banded around her torso.

“Don’t,” Jarred said, shaking his head. “I’m not letting you go, so don’t even think about it.”

“Wayla, please, look at me.”

Slowly, she turned to face Irishen and licked her suddenly dry lips when the bond stirred inside of her.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he said, white eyes dim, ashen. “I never meant to hurt you, ever, but I did.”

“It’s fi—”

Irishen snarled. “No. It’s not fucking fine. Stop saying that.”

“Love, he’s—”

“But I get it,” Wave hurried to say. “I’m a siren, it’s—”

“You are my mate,” Irishen snapped. “I was so way out of line that Jarred should have bitten my head off.”

“No!”

“Breathe, love,” Jarred interjected before Wave could spiral out of control again. “I know you have trouble believing this, but someone attacking you or hurting you is. Not. Fine.”

“He was just trying to block—”

“No.” Jarred’s eyes held rage. “Not an excuse. And you didn’t even try to defend yourself. We’ll circle back to shielding later, but I need you to get this thought in your head, love. You will stop taking hits like that. I don’t care how much you’ll level in retaliation. You’ll defend yourself.”

He was truly angry with her. It came through loud and clear in their bond, yet his hold on her was gentle, reassuring, protective. To add to the confusion in her head, Irishen moved his hand from her waist and cupped her cheek gently, turning her gaze back to him.

“I agree with him, morsel. Realms’ spirits help me, if I ever act idiotically like that ever again, I want you to blast my ass to the next realm, okay?”

“I wouldn’t—”