Reckoning (A Fallen Siren Novel, Band 2) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

 S. J. Harper is the pseudonym for authors Jeanne C. Stein and Samantha Sommersby. Cursed is the first Fallen Siren Novel.

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PRAISE FOR BOOK ONE IN THE
FALLEN SIREN SERIES

Also by S. J. Harper

ROC

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER 1

What we’re doing is wrong on so many levels. That’s what I tell myself as I wake, my body aching in all the right places. In just a few short months, we’ve fallen into the kind of pattern I’d normally think of as dangerous. But somehow, when I’m with him, I feel safe.

My mind drifts as I watch the flutter of curtains. The morning sunshine pours into the bedroom from the balcony. Have I ever had a steady lover so possessive, so creative, so . . . demanding? His hand on my hip comes to life, fingertips skimming downward across the curve of my buttocks. He inches closer to me, spooning his body against mine. Nothing separates us under the sheets—it’s skin on skin. Fingers slide between my thighs. I’m wet. It seems lately, in his presence, I’m perpetually this way. I just can’t help myself. A Siren is a Siren. A sexual creature, born of Gaia. I’m one of three, cursed by Demeter thousands of years ago for failing to protect Persephone. It’s for this I atone, for this I pay. It’s the reason I search for the missing and avoid love at all costs. The first brings me closer to the promise of redemption. Forgetting the latter? Finding real love? That promises nothing but ruin and death.

“Good morning,” I whisper.

He lifts one of my legs. His long, thick shaft slides between them. I feel the warmth of his smile as he replies, “It’s about to get even better.”

The rumble of his rich baritone, still rough from sleep, along with the promise of what’s to come, makes me smile. But the sense of contentment is fleeting. The first few bars of “Bad Moon Rising” blare from my phone. Liz, my best friend, and quite possibly the most powerful witch this side of the Mississippi, added the ringtone to my cell five months ago and I haven’t been able to change it. She assigned it to Zack, my partner, a dark, rugged werewolf who was formerly, and quite secretly, a badass black ops assassin. Now, like me, he spends his days working for the FBI and searching for the missing.

I feel Kallistos’ irritation at the interruption. I pat his hand. “Hold that thought,” I say, then reach for my phone.

“Zack. It’s early. What’s up?”

“Jimmy. He wants to see us right away and apparently you haven’t been answering your texts.”

I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s just past seven on a Monday and I’ve managed to piss off the boss. “Why didn’t he just call me?”

“He did. Twice.”

“Damn it! I must have slept through it.”

Or Kallistos had taken it upon himself to set my cell to silent. Again. Thanks to Liz’s spell, and much to Kallistos’ chagrin, Zack’s calls ring through regardless. Liz knows how close Zack and I came to disaster. This is her special way of reminding me of the ever-present danger. She’s also the main reason I’m sharing the vampire King’s bed now. She encouraged him and pushed me like a veritable yenta. After countless protests they wore me down. I decided to give the no-strings-attached-relationship proposal a trial run.

Kallistos has retreated to the other side of the bed. I’d like to think out of guilt, but I know better.

I momentarily mute the call. “Stop silencing my phone,” I scold.

His clear blue eyes give nothing away. “You don’t get enough rest.” His tone is matter-of-fact. No argument. No apology. Not ever. Admittedly, it’s one of the downsides of dating a vampire King with more than a millennium under his belt—one that I’ll eventually have to address if our arrangement continues. Eventually. But not today.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” I counter.

He answers my rising ire with a disarming smile. “You need coffee, Emma. I’ll call down.”

I unmute the phone, turning my attention back to Zack. “How much time do I have?”

“The briefing was scheduled for seven thirty. Reminding Jimmy it was Labor Day got us a reprieve until eight.”

I brace myself, knowing I shouldn’t ask, but do anyway. “Did you and Sarah have plans?”

My question about Sarah, the she-wolf who shares Zack’s beach house, is met with the expected pause. Zack doesn’t say much about his private life. His reluctance doesn’t have anything to do with our history. As far as he’s concerned, we have no history; there’s never been anything personal between us at all. Thanks to Liz’s super-duper spell casting, Zack’s memories of those times have been erased. Not all of them, of course; only the ones indicating there had ever been any physical intimacy between us. Our casework history, secrets shared about our natures and pasts—that’s all remained intact. But remembrances of our one, glorious night in Charleston and the fact we became lovers after his move here to San Diego a year later? Gone.

Kallistos climbs out of bed and heads for the balcony. “Maybe the four of us can do something together later,” he murmurs on the way.

I throw a pillow at him, but miss by a mile. By the time it hits the floor he’s outside and, thanks to a little pink pill called Protectus, appreciating the early-morning sun like only someone who’s spent more than a thousand years in darkness could—face tilted up, eyes closed. Kallistos is responsible for the creation of Protectus, part medical miracle and part magic. It’s been around for a couple decades now, along with the Blood Emporiums he created.

Most Emporiums are located in the backs of businesses catering to those who pursue alternative lifestyles—tattoo shops and heavy-metal clubs. For vampires they offer fresh blood from paid donors who, for the most part, have no idea where the blood ends up or who is paying for it. Would-be vampires and goths simply believe they are indulging in a fantasy. They never see the real vampires who come to buy their blood bags and the drugs that allow them to function during the day.

I watch my lover breathe deeply of the ocean air. Appreciate the way shadow and light play across his body, which is hard, lean, and eternally young.

“I was going to make my famous London broil,” Zack finally volunteers. “But, duty calls. Right, partner?”

Zack has a way of saying the word partner like it really means something. And it does. A lump forms in my throat. Our reasons may be different, but the mission is the same. Zack understands me better than any partner I’ve had.

I nod. “Yes. Duty calls.”

“I’ll let Jimmy know we’re on our way in.”

“I’ll meet you at the office in forty-five minutes.” As I hang up, I silently recite the same words I do every time I go out on a new case. Redemption could be one rescue away.

Kallistos is beside me with a robe. “No time for breakfast, I suppose.”

I wave him off and begin to hunt for my clothes. “I have to go. As it is, I barely have enough time to get home, shower, and change. Can you help me find my other shoe?”

I crouch down to check under the bed.

“If you kept some things here—”

“I’m not moving in,” I tell him for the hundredth time as I climb to my feet. My eyes fall to the large saltwater aquarium across from the bed. My black patent pump is dangling off of an...