Siren Cherry Novels & Stories

"Ewww! That's absolutely disgusting, just the thought of it." Her twin clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Yeah, right. So, leave me the hell alone! We're at a damn party, and we're supposed to have fun. I'm twenty-three, Ixora, not sixteen! You're not my damn mother, for crying out loud!" Cherry fished a cigarette from her bag. "Maybe you should try getting laid too. God knows you need it to get that stick out of your tight ass." She said as she produced her lighter and lit her cigarette.

"Jesus Christ, Cameron Pierce! What the hell happened to you?" "Fucking A, Rachel. Have some tact!" Piper popped up. She was the oldest of the group-although, only by a couple of years. I envied her. Everything about her screamed perfection, but she was completely immune to it. "Would you two shut up? Check out the man candy. Who the hell is this, Cam?" Charlotte, better known to us as Charlie, was as lesbian as the day was long, but she appreciated the male form as much as the rest of us. All four girls turned to Dax, who stood at their acknowledgment.

The woman continued to scream at Arya as she inched closer not noticing the security staff that were arriving. “I didn't seduce anyone and who are you?” Arya defended herself and asked. “I'm Ryker’s fiancee and you're just his mistress! A woman who can only achieve something using her body and- hey!” The woman was interrupted when two security guards grabbed her harshly. “Let me go! You witch! You're just like your mother! After all, all she could do was sell herself for money!” The woman continued t shout without stopping. Arya was getting fed up with her screams, she was embarrassed and the odd looks she was getting from the crowd wasn't helping. Neither was Ryker coming closer to her and

She rushes to see the queen with this new development, she needs to nip this in the bud, if word gets out that Dean is mated to a siren, the king would protect her with his life. “You seem to feel like since I agreed to help you, you can barge in my room and disturb my peace Briar,” Penelope glares, “what is it? Did you brat run into trouble?” “Yes, a siren,” Briar says. Penelope had lit up in excitement, any news on sirens was her favorite. “Explain Briar,” Penelope orders. “His majesty’s mate is not a mermaid but a siren,” Briar says angrily, “ugh, you know how hard it was to kill just one that time, she died because she chose to, how are we going to get rid of this one.”

I realized the significance but felt nothing resembling regret. The moonlight bathed the clearing just as it had the night of our broken bond, but I was no longer the submissive omega he had abandoned. I met his gaze steadily and replied: "The Moon Goddess chooses perfect timing. Tomorrow's full moon is auspicious for true mates." The bonding ceremony dawned clear and crisp. The sacred circle was adorned with rare arctic blue moon blossoms, their scent heightening the sensitivity of our wolves. Nathan, magnificently powerful in his ceremonial alpha furs, awaited me at the ancient stone altar.

I can hardly believe it myself for I've never actually seen him in this way. The ferry boat makes me a little seasick. It's funny that a girl who's an alleged siren and the daughter of a sea fisherman can get seasick still. But here I am stuffing the dramamine pills down my throat in light of the situation. It helps a little. I can still taste the bitter throw-up coming up my throat with its acid. I was never one to ride on roller coasters either. After an hour the ferry ride is done and we get off. The mist is heavy today almost as heavy as the night the sirens came and sang to me. Since this is called Siren's Point I'm sure fishermen have actually seen the likes of them around these parts.

I passed Polly in the hallway. She was pushing a handcart piled with ten or so boxes, arms trembling. Seeing me, she stopped and lowered her head to let me pass. "Distribution going okay?" I asked. "…So-so," her voice hoarse. I nodded and walked on. After a few steps, I glanced back. She was still there, hands on the cart, shoulders slumped. The snowlight outside cast pale shadows on her face—white, almost bloodless. The next day, my assistant mentioned casually while dropping off documents, "Mr. Bassett… the employees secretly created a group chat. They call it the 'Cherry Victims Alliance.'"