Surely there was no harm in a little kiss …
“It’s OK,” she whispered, fascinated with the darkening of his grey eyes. Tillman wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. Dangerous territory, her mind whispered. Remember what happened to your mother when she fell in love with a human. Shelly squeezed her eyes shut, determined to drown the demon voices of doom. She had wanted to get close to him for so long, had fantasized about this moment for over a year.
His lips were upon hers, hot, demanding and probing. She was drowning in sensation, her bones and blood liquefying in pools of desire. The sweet, fierce hotness made Shelly’s toes curl into the warm sand. The pounding of the waves matched the pounding in her blood.
DEBBIE HERBERT writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She’s always been fascinated by magic, romance and gothic stories. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Her oldest son, like many of her characters, has autism. Her youngest son is in the US Army. A past Maggie finalist in both Young Adult and Paranormal Romance, she’s a member of the GA Romance Writers of America. Debbie has a degree in English (Berry College, GA) and a master’s in library studies (University of Alabama).
Siren’s Secret
Debbie Herbert
To my parents, J.W. and Deanne Gainey,
my biggest fans.
To my husband, Tim,
who believes and supports me in everything I do.
And to our two wonderful sons, Byron and Jacob.
I’m so blessed to have each of you in my life.
Contents
Chapter 1
Under autumn’s moon-blood red
Beneath a foam-tipped wave
The unseen mermaid spies the dead
Sink to a watery grave.
With a flick of her mermaid’s tail, Shelly surfaced from the deep coastal waters holding the dead body of victim number two.
Black garbage bags, held together with yards of duct tape, wrapped around the dead human like a macabre gift package. A cement block dangled from the rope attached to the body. Shelly removed a knife from the leather pouch belted at her waist and sliced through the rope, releasing the block. She plunged her long, sharp nails into one end of the garbage bag, ripped open a layer of plastic and stared into a pair of empty eye sockets.
The killer’s signature calling card. News of the previous dead body with missing eyes, dumped weeks earlier in the bayou, still dominated the news media as an unsolved case.
From the tip of her fin to the top of her scalp, an electric surge of fear blazed through her body like a burn. This could have been me. Whether she was on land in human form, or at sea as a mermaid, both worlds were filled with danger.
Miles from shore, she kept afloat by swishing the tail fin beneath her torso. Her gaze froze on the maimed body as her heart pounded in time with each rise and fall of the waves. Seawater pooled in the victim’s empty eye sockets like wells of tears. The placid mood of the ocean shifted, as if it resented the violent encounter it was asked to hide. Shelly’s arms ached as she struggled to hold the slippery plastic-encased body in the turbulent water. Against the waves, the plastic wriggled and slithered like a monstrous black eel.
The abrupt rumble of a boat engine sliced through the humid night air. Shelly jerked and the victim’s body skated from her grasp and bobbed beside her in the water. She thought the killer had left, but panic and surprise at the unexpected encounter during her swim had made her careless.
Earlier, she’d been close to her human home, finishing her evening’s swim, when a sudden splash sent screaming vibrations rippling through the sea. She’d heard the boat above her on the ocean’s surface and watched as the long, cylindrical object sank like a torpedo not twenty yards away. She should have left at once. But she had suspected the foreign object was human, and hoped the human might still be alive.
So Shelly had watched and waited at first. Through the dark ripples, the full moon illuminated a man peering over the side of an old johnboat. She couldn’t move as he’d stood there, waiting. Probably making sure the weighted-down corpse wouldn’t pop back up, and then the boat had sped away.
Now he was back.
The boat gathered speed and headed directly at her.
No! I can’t be seen. Stupid, stupid, getting caught. Got to get the hell away. He would be on her in seconds. Shelly reached for the body and her hands slid off the slick plastic. She took a deep breath and forced her panicked mind to be clear. Her fingers, then palms, grabbed a handful of plastic and she pulled it close enough to circle her arms around the victim’s center. But the now-waterlogged body was so heavy it slipped through her arms down into the sea.
Yards away, the killer stared at Shelly with the eyes of an intense predator. With the light of a full moon, she made out the curly dark hair peeking out from under a baseball cap, a hookish beak of a nose, glittering dark eyes with gold flecks and a short, wiry body tensed in fury.
Her eyes burned as she strained to adjust her vision from water to air, the sudden beam of a flashlight blinding her for a moment. Judging from the way his mouth gaped open, Shelly knew he’d seen her inhuman pupils do their wild thing, shine with the bioluminescent glow of deep-sea marine life as the irises swirled like a miniature aurora borealis. Her muscles seized and locked, refusing her mind’s screaming command to flee.
Damn. Wait until he sees