Novelas y relatos de Sirenhead

Teresa shook her head vigorously with a terrified look in her eyes and screamed, "Amaria No!!" As it charged towards Amaria, the Chimera jumped down from above and shrieked loudly.

I don’t need any woman to beg for me to have a good day, I need a man who’ll be my meat. Practicing for years to master the art of being a good siren can be a long and hard way. However, the hard work is paid now Lav. I walked with passion in the middle of the crowd with a harmonious face. Before going in the elevator I wait for a fewer group to be with me. They are all staring at me, this is not a new situation. “Madam, is it okay to ask?” I tilted my head and looked at the kid who asked. A cute miniature.

"He also told me about akharus and usemis." "Just akharu and usemi. You don't say the 's.'" "Well, he told me about idimmu, too, these half-breeds. They are known by other names, too, like sirens. He said I was one, but different. And that you are like me." "A siren is a type of idimmu. A siren can force you to do or feel things that you don't want to. Peter thinks you are making me feel drawn to you."

It almost seemed… resigned. Maiden Threwon didn’t wait for any further questions. I doubted she’d expected to have to field any in the first place. Without further ado, she raised one arm – clad loosely in gray silk, like all the maidens wore – and rapped her knuckles lightly upon the wooden door. I held my breath. Beyond the door, sounds could now be heard of something stirring. I could even make out what sounded like a few claps and an excited whoop of some kind, the latter of which was definitely from a human.

shouted Helena to the open sea. She was like a madwoman screaming to herself. No answer. She looked down, the beautiful blue sea with colorful fish. Dimly she heard a humming sound, something foreign to her ears but pleasant and melodious; siren sound. Siren Aquamarine, the mermaid of the Caribbean sea who always tempts pirates and fishermen. They suck every soul that is subject to their beauty. Beautiful but deadly.

Stop. Max swiveled the chair, about to rip off the headphones when she screamed his name. Over and over, coming with his name on her lips. Glancing back nearly made him come. Max cursed, knowing he’d never soon forget the sight of Abby in the shower, a glorious wet dream permanently stamped into his brain.

Sirens were known to be translators of the Deities and that might be the reason they were so favored. Rony did not have any chance to remember everything about Highlands except the view when they were leaving. He could not perfectly describe it. Then, he entered Jade Island. As what he saw about Highlands, it did not match in what he saw in the Siren's place. This was magic meant to be. Dragons either flied or swam. And, unicorns were real.

Nobody knows what they look like, nobody's lived long enough to tell. It was the usual serene wind that blanketed the night of 1876, the same cold breeze, some may even call it a loveless touch, caressing the tides and pulling ferrymen into sin, down, down, down, until they drown. It has been a longtime warning not to sail after midnight, word on the street is that a siren was born, furious and vengeful because of the death of a previous lover. She sings a tranquil lullaby, with the voice of an angel and face likewise. She would show up in the middle of the ocean, amidst the cerulean waves and the storm that comes along every breath she takes. Eyes glowing in color like that of where she liv

“When my concubus side came out, there was that huge aurora. They don’t come this far south often. The men who were looking out for it must have started checking every child born that day.” “I have two sets of eyelids. Could that be it?” Aria asked. “Yes. Most sirens only have one, they tend to swim in fresh water because of it. The second set is clear right?” I inquired. Aria blinked them to confirm. I grinned. She was amazing. “Beautiful, my Eulalia.” I murmured. “I want to stay and fight, too.” Winston said.

POV RUBY The Siren’s Wake cut through the choppy black waters of the Irish Sea like a blade. Behind us, the fiery orange glow of the Docklands was nothing more than a bleeding scar on the horizon. The roar of the engine was a constant, low-frequency thrum that vibrated through the floorboards and up into my very bones. Silas was at the helm, his silhouette a grim statue against the spray-flecked glass of the cabin, leaving Nevan and me alone in the cramped, dimly lit quarters below deck.