Page 55

He nods.

“Holyyyy fuck. Do you realize what a big deal this is? There haven’t been fated mates in centuries! Have you danced? Oh, gods, please tell me you guys have danced together?”

I bite my lip. Thinking of sharing my breath with Javier as I rode his cock at the bottom of the spring has my cheeks heating. Above me, Javier grins, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Yes, we have danced together.”

Cora turns and splashes water at me. “Then why the hell aren’t you dancing with him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know this is the history of our duets, right?” Her eyes are bright, full of an almost child-like excitement. “The ensemble performances are imitations of the way we used to lure sailors to their deaths, but the duets? Those were something sacred and beautiful, shared between a siren and their mate. Once a siren finds their mate, their song is rendered powerless. The curse, for you, is broken now that your mate has heard you sing.”

“Seriously?” I whisper, trying to grasp the implications of what she is telling us. In all the stories I’ve heard about the curse that rules our lives, no one ever mentioned this.

“Your song is safe, Aleks. What you and Javier can do together would blow their minds. You can show the world the siren mating dance.” She pauses, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe minus the fucking. That might be too much.”

“Oh my gods,” I say, splashing her, even as her words start to sink in. I look up at Javier. “What do you think?”

“I am not a dancer,” Javier offers softly. There’s a thoughtful frown on his face, as well as an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his eyes.

—Daddy?

His eyes soften.

—Look at me. This is not the body of a swimmer or a dancer.

I do look at him. I look at his thick, powerful thighs, the heft of his belly and chest, and his soft arms hanging at his sides. I imagine him, then, as he looked under the water with me when we sealed our bond. He was stunning then in his strength, breathtakingly handsome, and perfect and mate and mine.

—I don’t deserve you, Aleks.

I smile up at him.

—I call bullshit, Javier.

—Language, boy.

Letting out an audible sigh, Javier looks up at the sky. “I will try,” he says, finally. Lowering his gaze to meet mine, he adds, “For you, I will try.”

Cora claps her webbed hands together. “Can I be your coach?”

“Aleks.”

“Hm?” I’m completely zoning out as we walk hand-in-hand down an empty stretch of sidewalk. Distantly, cheers from the huge outdoor arena where the rugby matches are held ring out in the late-afternoon heat.

“I have a question.”

I swallow, trying to play it cool, even as my heart rate ticks up. “Um, okay?”

—Do not panic, boy.

When I look over at him, the soft, amused smile on his face reassures me. “You never told me the story behind your tattoo.”

I groan, slapping my free hand over my face. “No. No no no no no.”

Javier tugs on my hand, pulling my body against his side. His beard tickles when he kisses my head. “Now you have to tell me,” he teases.

“You’re going to laugh,” I mutter, letting my hand fall back to my side.