Landry tried to remember all the reasons why this woman was off-limits, but he couldnât name a single one.
Everything about Jet fascinated him and stirred his sensual appetite. The pale glittering skin, full lips and unusually dark eyes framed by black hair were so different from any other woman heâd known.
Jet crackled with energy and a directness that cut through his usual barriers and demanded sole focus on her own unique qualities.
She leaned closer, a glint of desire sparkling like pixie dust in her enlarged pupils, and Landryâs jaw tensed at his bodyâs immediate tug to draw closer.
She touched his chest with one hand, and even through his thick cotton shirt, the heat of her skin traveled downward, and his stomach tightened.
All reason fled. He had to feel her, taste her, claim herâ
* * *
âThese contemporary mers are a far cry from Disney characters, theme-park performers and creepy she-devil myths of the sea. Settle in for an exciting swim with a new breed of sirens.â
âNew York Times bestselling author Deborah Smith on Sirenâs Secret
Prologue
Away down deep in the âBama bayou,
Youâll find a mysterious Gothic brew
Where Spanish moss drapes ancient oaks,
And sea-slithery lizards and gators croak.
The swampy water creeps ever in,
And lured down many a man has been
By magical, whispering, haunting sounds
Where not another soul is found.
Stay out of the water, whatever you do,
Ainât no telling what will become of you
If you canât resist a quick little dip.
Let me give you a tiny tip:
Should you feel a tug at your feet,
It mightnât be the tide pulling underneath.
Be wary, human, you must bewareâ
For some say mermaids lurk down there.
âSirenâs Song,â old folk tune, Bayou La Siryna,
Alabama
Placing second or third? Not good enough.
She had to win the Undinesâ Challenge this year at the Poseidon Games, had to discover the reason other merfolk shunned her.
Jet whipped her tail fin and surged forward through the turquoise waterâpushing, pushingâspeeding through the sea like a rocket, streams of bubbles in her wake. Only one goal consumed her.
Winning.
The adrenaline rush, combined with Jetâs superior strength and determination, propelled her ahead of the other merfolk within the first minute. She took a quick peek over her left shoulder and found Orpheous mere feet behind and rapidly closing in.
Her nemesis was gaining.
Jet sped past the Dismals, a barnacle-ridden limestone outcropping, and toward the next hurdle of the race. At the entrance of the honeycombs she cast a quick glance backward. Orpheous grinned, displaying jagged, pointy teeth. His long cobalt hair and teal tail fin distinctly marked him as one of the rare full-blooded members of the notorious Blue Mermen Clan. Ruthlessly aggressive and muscular, his kind usually won most sporting events.
Jet slowed as she slid through the first opening of a large coral with a series of slender gaps. Although beautiful, the hot-pink coral was razor sharp and could gash exposed flesh and scales, causing painful injuries. Each contestant had to maneuver through the marked portals without any part of their body touching the coral. If they did touch, one of the judges on the sidelines would blow a conch shell, signaling the contestant must start over.
Halfway through the coral maze, the muted bellow of conch blasted. Jetâs heart tripped. She hadnât touched, had she? She looked at the judges perched on a rock ledge twelve feet away, but they pointed to Orpheous and signaled him to exit and start over.
âLiars!â he screamed, ignoring the stream of blood spiraling upward from a gash on his arm. âI did not touch. You are prejudiced against my clan.â
Jet resumed swimming through the narrow twists and turns. She would win and take her place among the strongest and most skilled. Surely then they would respect her.