Chapter One
The highest tides on earth occur in the Bay of Fundy. Strong currents created by these tides keep the waters well mixed. This increases the availability of nutrients that aid in fish population, historically deeming it one of the most productive fishing grounds in the world.
A mermaid’s delight.
For weeks, Luna swam the Gulf of Maine’s southern boundary in the cold waters around Georges Bank enjoying the haddock, cod, halibut, flounder, and lobster thriving there. She delighted in maneuvering the strong tidal currents into the icy waters of the Bay of Fundy.
The sun glinted off the deep-blue sea, its reflections winking like floating diamonds, and the breaking waves were white as a harp seal’s fur. Luna sat on the rocky cliffs. Below her, waves crashed against the coastline, molding and altering it with a daily fifty-two-foot tidal range. The scenery around her offered a rugged and beautiful combination, but she failed to enjoy it. Sad and wandering thoughts left her adrift.
The wind shifted, and strands of dark hair slapped across her face. Annoyed, she brushed it away. Luna realized she’d sat long enough for her waist-long hair to dry—completely. Returning to the water wouldn’t comfort her. Though she’d been the one to leave her previous situation—a lover cast aside—this loneliness and isolation made her desperate to find a new life. She couldn’t return. And she’d stalled, swimming the open sea long enough. A destination loomed in her mind.
In the region not far from where she sat was an island—not just any island—but one she’d heard about through hushed tones. It was said the island housed a secluded resort for guests both human and nonhuman. The Wiccan Haus, run by four mystical siblings, was a distinguished place of healing and regeneration. Can the Wiccan Haus and its magic help heal my trampled heart? Many suffered from a broken heart, but surely mine resulted in the cruelest twist of fate.
Riding out with the tide, Luna recalled her adolescent years when the water god discovered her. The moment the water god heard her singing voice, he had swiftly and passionately deemed her his.
She swam faster as she remembered his touch—allowing the memories to ease her sorrow—if only for a little while.
To distinguish her from the others of her kind, the god had immediately given her the ability to walk on land. Her species of female water natives were called sirens by the land-dwellers of her realm because similarly their songs lured victims into the water. Though these distinct females had no tails like the legendary sirens and mermaids of other realms, their legs were not meant to withstand long periods out of the water. This alteration the god had given Luna, to walk on land, had lent to the resentment of the other sirens of her kind, who were already of a spiteful and jealous nature. In a sense, Luna had sisters, but they were a fickle and untrustworthy lot. Returning to their fold after her disgrace was unappealing at best.
The water god favored all the sirens with his attention when he wanted them. However, Luna was his favored one. Not only had he physically altered her, but he’d gifted her with extended life—how could she not love him above all things?
Apparently, he didn’t return her love in the same way. Just two centuries together and then he heartlessly chose another.
Luna was a siren scorned. She would never speak his name, Suijin, again.
Though her kind came from the waters of another realm, she knew of mermaids who flourished in the human oceans. History’s legends of mermaids and sirens ran close. Luna learned a mermaid from the royal family resided on the Wiccan Haus island and helped women in need, her reputation preceded her. Could she help me?
Staying under the water and riding the Eastern Maine Coastal Current, Luna traveled south. She broke the surface. A warm breeze caressed her face. Ahead, a wall of fog met the jewel-toned blue water.
Hmm. A security barrier. I’m in the right place. All I have to do is swim under it.
She dove deep and met resistance—there was something invisible there. The magical force went all the way to the sand, but she was agile and determined to get through it. Her limbs throbbed with discomfort infused by the enchanted magic undulating in the waters around her. It left a zinging undercurrent in her veins, but she’d made it through.
The second obstacle she faced, but outmaneuvered undetected, was the patrols. Heart racing at the thrill of dodging security, she finally broke the surface. The green oasis rose from the sea abundant in lush, green hills, and forests. Intrigued, she swam closer. Near the shore, something in the air evoked a calmness in Luna—balance and Zen buzzed on the breeze. Did guests leave here on this frequency?
During low tide, she walked onto the deserted beach. The zinging sensation, from crossing the magic barrier minutes ago, faded as she shook out her arms. She wrung out her sopping wet, black hair then adjusted the satchel hanging against her halter dress, all the while contemplating what to do next.
She glanced one last time at the fog on the horizon, and pain squeezed her chest. Heartache was a cruel bitch! There is no turning back. I won’t return to watch him put another woman before me. Not again. She squared her narrow shoulders.
“Welcome to the Wiccan Haus,” a voice rang out.
Twisting around, she gasped. Alarms rang in her head. Trespassing was a crime in the human realm, and she had infiltrated their island’s defenses. Her heartbeat sped up.
A man waltzed out from behind a cluster of barnacle-studded boulders. Two more men dressed in black followed close behind him, their expressions stern and uncompromising. The poised and elegant fellow stopped, smiling like he’d been expecting her arrival. He raised his hand to stay the military twins. Though the smiling man’s clothes billowed around him in a lavender cloud of fabric, it was his long, blond hair that caught Luna’s attention. It was a paler shade of blond hair than the woman who had replaced her.
“Oh, hello. I don’t have a reservation, but I’m interested in a room. Are there any available?” Patting the satchel at her hip, a thought suddenly occurred to her. “How much are the rooms?” She visited the human realm often enough to know about currency. The water god had accumulated vast wealth and riches to generate payment for whatever he required. She’d taken money with her before she left but now questioned if she’d taken enough.
The man’s icy-blues gazed on her with kindness. “Wiccan Haus is here for those who need it. What is your name?”
“Luna.”
“Luna.” He rolled the name on his tongue and smiled.
The water god had given her the name. It meant the moon. He’d said her songs drew him to her like the moon’s pull on the tides. Years later, he’d taught her about the other creatures of the land and how the moon called to shifters, changelings, and creatures of the night. She wondered if she would meet any of those kind here on the island.
It seemed the man surmised she wasn’t human. Could he detect she was a siren? Siren’s from her realm had distinct traits; their large eyes and youthful beauty were a hauntingly accurate sign of their identity.
“Luna, I’m Cemil, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. My three siblings, Cyrus, Sarka, Sage, and I own and operate the Wiccan Haus. Let’s see about getting you a room.” He offered her his arm with a flourish. She folded her small hand into the solid bend of his elbow.
She glanced over her shoulder at the comforting, undulating sea blanket. It was time to move on and put the water god in her past. She turned away from the waves. The military twins fell into step behind them.
“If you don’t mind, we’ll take the hill path and stroll by the lake,” Cemil said. “This island supports a colony of bungalows and a main lodge. I’m certain you will want to spend time at the lake while you are here this week—we book a week at a time. And do not worry about anything; the Wiccan Haus will provide everything you need.”
She nodded, while contemplating the strangely perfect world around her—her amiable companion, the lush grass, and the perfectly blue sky. “I’ve heard this is a place of spiritual and emotional healing. How does one heal here exactly?” Could magic be involved? What could she expect?
“It is true. Many have found what they seek or found what they didn’t even know they were looking for.”
His gaze dropped to hers. She was thankful he didn’t ask why she was here.
“But how, you ask. Well, we have wonderful therapies like yoga, acupressure, fire cupping, hydrotherapy…just to name a few. In fact, you should consider taking one of Selena’s classes. I think the two of you would get along famously.” He acted out the last word with an exaggerated wave of his hand, pulling it into a fist. “Also, we do ask everyone attends dinner. It’s mandatory actually. As a result, you’ll get a chance to meet some interesting guests and make some friends.”
“Dinner?” she repeated weakly. With humans! How was she supposed to stomach cooked meats and baked grains?
“Do you like sushi? We have the freshest on the island.”
Did he read my mind? “Yes, it’s my favorite.”
His voice raised a notch. “One of my sisters, Sage, is an herbalist who knows just what everyone needs to nourish their souls and their stomachs. So she can make you a shake tailored just for you. I highly recommend her service.” He smiled brightly, but his pale eyes reflected amusement as if he hid a secret.
“I’m a bit of an herbalist myself. I look forward to meeting your sister Sage.” Of course, Luna used underwater ingredients.
At the crest of the hill, the waters of a lake sparkled through the trees.
“Did I mention it’s a saltwater lake?”
“No, but that’s perfect.” She smiled at his pointedness. He seemed to know she was a being from the sea.
While they continued down the path, the acute presence of the security men behind her, and the gravel crunching under their boots, grated on her nerves. She refocused on her companion’s words.
“Other guests are arriving today. The ferry from the mainland should be unloaded by now.”
Within ten minutes, the Wiccan Haus came into view. The steep roofline of the half-timbered building stirred to life a century-old memory. The water god had taken her to a holiday festival in Germany to sample some spirits. They’d walked among humans as she was about to do now. She despised humans—as they despised sirens. The races were enemies from the start of creation. She’d felt completely safe walking in the crowds beside a god. But, now, she earnestly questioned if this was worth the risk, being outnumbered. A ferry from the mainland meant how many humans? The water god had warned her of the existence of others and told her stories of other beings and realms, but she’d never experienced anything more foreign than humans.
“It’s a charming house. How many humans—I mean—guests stay?”
Cemil patted the hand she rested at his elbow. “The ferry holds twelve—mostly humans. The other twelve arrive through the portal. Don’t worry, there’s room for you.” He let go of her hand, stepping out of her reach. “Follow me.”
Only a few people lingered outside. They were holding their devices in the air, looking puzzled.
Cemil grimaced. “If you will excuse me, Luna, I must inform the new guests their phones don’t work on this island. Some get positively ugly.” Before he took a step farther, he stopped and held up a finger at Luna and the men who stood adjacent waiting for further instruction. “Speaking of disappointing news…there is one requirement.”
She tightened her grip on the satchel’s strap.
“You will need to refrain from singing and humming around the guests. In fact, you’ll need to sign a contract.”
He knows I’m a siren.
She nodded, embarrassed by his implication. Sirens only sang to lure their target into submission—and kill them.
“Splendid. You go on inside and check in at the reception desk with Myron while I speak to my other guests.” He turned to the men. “You’re dismissed.”
With curt nods, the men about-faced and retreated. Luna hesitated a moment, watching Cemil charm the newcomers, much like he’d charmed her. He’d welcomed her, knowing she was a siren.
Stepping through the entrance into a spacious lobby, Luna stopped. Confused, she tilted her head. The inside was not as she’d expected. The quaint outside of the lodge didn’t match the abundant, upscale inside. Odd.
Luna approached the desk. The dark-haired receptionist smiled. The tips of her hair were dyed orange. Luna admired the shade similar to cup coral before she murmured, “Um, I don’t have a reservation, but I spoke with Cemil—”
“Oh, that explains it.” The receptionist scooped up a line of playing cards and randomly shuffled them. “Yeah, we had a cancelation just this morning, and now you’re here to fill the spot. Perfect.”
Relief washed over Luna at her good fortune. Plus the reasonable room rate the receptionist mentioned put her at ease.
“I’m Myron, by the way. And here is your room key. You’ll find, at the Wiccan Haus, while you don’t always get what you asked for, we strive to give you what you need—and so you’ll find a saltwater tap in your bathtub.”
“Wow, thanks.” Luna gazed at the name tag on Myron’s uniform. It read Trixie. Distracted by the obvious name confusion, Luna turned away with her room key—slamming into a hard wall of flesh. Sirens, in general, were on the small side. All the ones she knew were no taller than five feet; most resembled adolescents. The man she bumped into towered over her. She retreated one step, wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell—her nose had rammed the broad bones between the man’s nipples. She rubbed the soreness away with her palm. He stayed rooted to his spot while she took another rearward step. Dried mud encased the man’s worn boots. Dirt-smudged legs covered in dark hair disappeared into his tattered cargo shorts. At his waist, through the faded Army-green T-shirt, his muscular body expanded up and out like the trunk of a tree to his broad shoulders and shapely, hard limbs. Immediately, her thoughts conjured her water god. She had never seen anyone as tall or physically perfect as her god—until now. Perfect, despite the grime.
She arched her neck, throat stretched, and she slowly raised her gaze in curiosity. A shaggy beard hung from his face; his thick eyebrows were drawn together as he penetrated her with his gaze. The fern-green of his eyes resembled the forests beyond the Wiccan Haus. Lucky for her, smell wasn’t her strongest sense because a tang filled her nostrils. Her keen eyesight assessed the tower in front of her—a scruffy, smelly mountain man—ew.
“Excuse me, miss,” he said.
The deep baritone voice left its vibration under her skin. Dropping her hand from her nose, she rubbed the gooseflesh on her arm. She nodded hastily, dashing around him, and then crossed the lobby to the elevator. Pushing the elevator button, she fiddled with the room key and watched the woodsman across the room. His broad shoulders evoked images of the water god and sparked a longing within her. Oh, how she had spent hours rubbing oil into clusters of muscles, rolling like hills and valleys under her small hands.
Something near the man’s shoulder caught her eye. Out of the woven dreads in his waist-long hair poked a furry face.
Gross! He has a rodent living on him! What a shame. If he wasn’t so mangy….
The elevator opened, and Luna hastened into the empty chamber. She gave the woodsman a fleeting look before the doors closed. She pressed number two, and it illuminated. Number two—her second chance. She came here to heal, not make friends, and certainly not to find romance.
What was I thinking?
***
“Nathaniel Quinn is it you under all that scruff?” Myron smiled at him, lifted the deck of cards, and skillfully shuffled them in her bejeweled hands.
“I couldn’t stay away.”
They both knew he never came to the island for pleasure.
“Oh, so you’re here for rest and relaxation? A makeover perhaps?” The receptionist had known him a long time. She flipped over one card face up and was about to flip another, but she stopped when the door to the security office opened and the head of security stepped out. She briefly glanced over.
Nate laughed at her last comment regarding a makeover. Some of the other human passengers on the ferry gawked at his unkempt appearance. Clearing his throat, he ran his fingers through his scruffy hair. “I’m in desperate need of a haircut and a beard trimming. Can I make an appointment in the spa?”
“For you, there is an immediate opening. Let me get your room key, and you can head right in whenever you’re ready.” She stashed her cards and collected his key.
Taking his key, he winked a thanks to Myron. She smiled charmingly and calmly despite the head of security scrutinizing them. Nate’s nostrils flared, picking up the distinct scent of his weretiger friend. Impatience rolled off the security officer Rekkus, who waited to speak to him.
His long strides ate up the room’s expanse, and he stopped short of pulling Rekkus into a bear hug when he saw the man’s displeased expression.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Rekkus asked under his breath.
“I was away from home with my sled dogs on business when you contacted me. I came as quickly as I could.”
Rekkus tipped his head in the direction of the security office, but his expression changed when Cemil entered the lobby.
“I need a moment.” Rekkus moved to head off Cemil while Nate walked into the darkened room lit by a wall of digital monitors.
One of the four owners sat behind a desk. Cyrus Rowan lifted his brows.
“Excuse my scruffiness, sir, but I came straight away,” Nate said.
“We are lucky to have you, Nate. Rekkus was convinced you put the Para Elite force in your past.”
“With a threat to the island and your safety, well, sir, you’ve done a lot for me.” Nate never forgot the people who had his six. Years ago, after he had taken out an entire coven of rouge vampires, he’d been severly injured. His team got him to the Wiccan Haus, and the staff had eventually healed him.
Cyrus nodded. “So, I heard a rumor you’re breeding sled dogs in northern Canada now?”
“Yes. My associate is running affairs while I’m away.” Nate bent to set his backpack on the floor against the wall and tugged at the zipper. He made a subtle sucking noise between his teeth while holding the pack open. A blur of fur scurried the length of his arm and dropped inside the safety of the worn canvas bag. He stood and faced Cyrus again.
Cyrus stared at the pack only a moment; he made no comment about what he saw.
Nate was grateful for Cyrus’s reserve. He’d tried to leave the red squirrel behind. The persistent squirrel had followed him for five hundred miles before Nate gave up trying to ditch him. The little furball had stuck with him ever since the day Nate rescued him two years ago; he couldn’t help the little woodland animal bonded with him.
Cemil entered the office followed by Rekkus, who closed the door, giving them privacy. Cemil was exasperated. “Don’t the guests read the brochure? I was outside again apologizing to visitors that cell phones don’t work on the island. And I reminded them it’s clearly stated on our website. People just can’t unplug.”
“Yes, well, we have a more important matter to discuss, Cemil,” Cyrus said to his brother.
Rekkus crossed his arms over his solid chest and leaned against the desk Cyrus sat behind. Nate took in the vision of the two men. They were best friends, both dressed in black, and both wearing the same blank expressions with their gazes pinned on Cemil. Nate sensed Cemil’s discomfort at their unforgiving stares and intense attention.
“What did I do?” Cemil’s voice raised a notch, unwilling to own up to his obvious indiscretion. He turned his head and fiddled with his hair, avoiding their scrutiny. Suddenly, he noticed Nate. “Oh, hello.” Cemil gave him a once over.
Nate shifted uncomfortably, gave a curt nod, and averted his attention to Rekkus.
“Who is that? She’s not on the list.” Rekkus pointed to a paused screen, the still-shot magnified.
Nate stared at the image of a girl—the same girl who’d bumped into him at the front desk a few minutes ago. She wore the same dress, but the picture had been captured outdoors. He surmised the footage was from earlier today. His body tensed. How had this lovely young woman caused Rekkus’s disgruntlement?
Cemil seemed to reluctantly peel his gaze from Nate and followed Rekkus’s finger to the screen. He raised his eyebrows. “That’s Luna. She is sort of…a siren—but not from this realm. She swam onto the beach.”
Cyrus said, “We know she swam onto the beach. Myron warned us someone gifted would break through the magical barrier.”
Not much slipped past Myron, Nate silently accepted. It seemed her cards often forewarned of potential threats, although Nate hadn’t sensed anything unusual in Myron’s exchange with the siren. Apparently, the cards had their limits.
“Right. Only Myron told me first. So I took security with me to see who it could be. And there it is, I met Luna.” Cemil crossed his arms over his chest.
“Cemil, why have you allowed a stranger to stay at a time when the Syndicate warns of an assassination attempt on your brother’s life?” Rekkus asked and gestured toward Cyrus, who didn’t move a muscle.
Nate anchored his attention on Cyrus, recalling prior threats. Cyrus Rowan had a bounty on his head. Rekkus’s concern was justifiable, but Nate was conflicted with the target. He didn’t see this delicate beauty as that kind of threat. Nate understood being head of security for the island was a monstrous responsibility, and, to add to his pressure, Rekkus was also Cyrus’s personal bodyguard. For this trip, Nate’s sole assignment was to flush out threats. He would answer to these men.
“Poor, little thing has had her heart broken. I knew it the moment I touched her hand. I believe she is only here to heal, Rekkus,” Cemil said.
Cemil’s gift as an empath gave him a true sense of people when he touched them. His opinion of Luna filled Nate with relief. Nate glimpsed at the monitor, committing her profile to memory.
“I don’t like coincidences. A para cancels last minute, and then this siren conveniently slips past our underwater details and waltzes in here. We know nothing about her. She could be dangerous.” Rekkus scowled at Cemil.
Nate hid a grin when Cemil flung his hands up and shook them with mock fear. He bit his lip when Cemil waved dismissively and said, “Oh, Rekkus, all sirens are dangerous.”
The weretiger growled.
Rekkus took security very seriously—in fact, he took everything seriously. Contained rage oozed from the man at Cemil’s careless teasing.
“However”—Cemil said after his brother narrowed his eyes at him—“I don’t sense she’s here to harm anyone. Cyrus has nothing to fear from that little guppy. Also, I informed her she’d need to sign a contract regarding her songs.”
Cyrus tapped his leather-covered finger on the desk. “I have an idea.” The three men turned their attention to Cyrus, who leaned forward, placing his gloved hands together. “While Nate is here undercover, we can have him watch her…befriend her…find out why she’s really here. Maybe she knows something?”
Cemil gazed over his shoulder at Nate. “I thought you looked familiar. I didn’t recognize you with all that…hair.” He smiled, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Are you trying to connect with your inner-species?”
Nate grinned and let the teasing slide. His species, the Sasquatch who roamed northern Canada, were sought after by the Syndicate’s Elite force because of their sheer size and strength. Problem was most were loners, and many had gentler sides not conducive for combat. Nate knew these plights all too well; however, the Syndicate paid generously.
Ignoring Cemil’s snickering, Nate focused on the image of the siren. From the moment he’d stepped into the lobby earlier, he’d picked up her scent. Steadily, he’d followed it until he stood close behind her. Like a deer drawn to a saltlick, his urge to touch her…taste her lips…had been overwhelming. He’d been so close, when she swung around, her long, black hair brushed his clothes. For the first time in his life, he froze while his brain ran diagnostics on his body. What had he felt? It was the true and urgent pull of wild instinct and heightened senses onset by this girl. Trying to recover from his shock and confusion, he’d gulped and forced his breathing to remain steady. When she’d abruptly bumped her nose to his chest, he prayed he acted normal instead of appearing like a starved bear sniffing honey. The accidental touch had sent a jolt through him. But nothing compared to when she’d tilted her head and blasted him with her eyes, as clear and large as a starless winter night. Then, to his greatest disappointment, she had wrinkled her nose, dismissed him, and moved away. Maybe she hadn’t recognized it—but he had. He had just found his mate.
“That’s an interesting idea.” Nate cleared his throat, wondering how this could happen. The potential threat was his destined mate.
Rekkus straightened to his full 6’5” frame and crossed to the totem pole of a man. “Could work.” He nodded. “Luna is your new detail.”
A weary chuckle escaped Nate at his sticky predicament as he absorbed the weight of his assignment.
The weretiger scrunched his nose. “You’re not going to entice anyone with your rank earthiness. Get cleaned up, and we’ll have a briefing this evening after the meal is served. You must attend like the rest of the guests since you’re undercover.”
Cemil seemed to breathe through his mouth and griped, “He’s not wrong. Though the smell of man is tempting, your smell is a bit overwhelming. Not to mention your clothes are in bad need of washing…or burning.”
Nate’s attention snapped to Rekkus. Did the weretiger just laugh?