Page 98 of Siren’s Secret

“Someone broke into their dorm and attacked her,” Irishen told Hellion. “The girls called us, but the intruder was gone by the time we got there. Jarred and Justin are sniffing out the area for any hints of lalwe root right now.”

“Lalwe root?” Hellion frowned.

“She was drugged by it,” Irishen said.

“By the time I got there, she was unconscious,” Marc added. “Ilijas says the dose could have been fatal.”

“Lalwe root?” Wave’s throat was suddenly dry again. She tried to keep her breathing slow and even and voice steady. “You’re sure it was lalwe root?”

“That’s what Ilijas said,” Marc replied. “Why?”

Irishen’s phone buzzed, and he impatiently hit the screen. “She’s awake, Jarred,” he said as soon as he lifted the phone to his ear. Wave didn’t hear what Jarred replied, but Irishen’s scowl deepened.

“Wayla?” Hellion asked.

She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t dare to close her eyes, either. Just breathe, Wave, just breathe. In and out. You can do that. She kept telling that to herself over and over and over. Just breathe.

It was no use. The memories surfaced like a tide she couldn’t hold back. What were the odds that it was lalwe root? The one substance that sirens were especially vulnerable to. The same one that had taken her down once before. How hadn’t she recognized the smell? Had it been covered under the stench of rot and sulfur?

“Okay. Yeah. Get back. I’ll tell them.” Irishen was still talking. The one-sided conversation was quick and his eyes didn’t move from Wave, but she wasn’t really processing what he was saying. He ended the call and pushed the phone back into his pocket. “They lost the trail. Someone portaled out. Both of them are heading back.”

Her hands started to shake and her control over her powers cracked, when the panic started to set in. If it had been anyone but Marc with his formidable shields holding her, they would have been blasted back when a layer of water interlaced with a web of electricity sprang up all over her skin.

“Wayla!”

“What—”

Hellion and Marc shouted, but Irishen surged forward and clasped her hands despite the little electric shocks it gave him. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she was too lost to control herself better.

“Mate?”

The syrupy sweet flavor with a bitter aftertaste filled her mouth. But Larig was dead. She had watched him bleed out under her mother’s daggers. She had been covered in his blood by the end of it. It couldn’t be him, could it?

Sing, little siren.

No! No, no, no. She wasn’t in that cell anymore. This bed wasn’t the cold slab, and the things holding her hands were not manacles.

She blinked furiously when she realized that nothing was holding her hands. Marc’s hold was loose around her waist, keeping her upright, not holding her back, and Irishen was running his hands up and down her legs, murmuring softly.

His bond was iron hard in her mind, rooting her into reality.

Her powers still crashed inside of her, looking for a threat, but there was none here. She itched to scream, let her pain out and render all minds around her to pieces. But she couldn’t do that. Shouldn’t. Still, the urge burned in her throat.

“I only smelled sulfur and rot,” she choked out. “Are you sure it was lalwe root?”

“Ilijas was sure,” Marc replied quietly.

“Where is he? I’m going to go check,” Hellion said.

Wave wasn’t sure what she was seeing in his gaze. There was worry, sure, but something else too. Flames flickered in the depths of his black pupils and his eyes were fully demonic now, none of the light blue left as deep, dark blue filled them.

“He’s probably downstairs,” Marc said. “But he didn’t say it could be anything else. Just lalwe root.”

“Anyway, I’m going to double-check,” Hellion said and headed out the door.

“Mate. Look at me.” Irishen’s voice was filled with dominance and it doubled down in their bond. Slowly, her gaze focused on his white eyes that swirled like a snowstorm. “That’s good.” His tone softened, but the command held.

“I-I,” she stammered but didn’t find the words.