Page 38 of The Scent of Salt & Sand

“Yes,” she said firmly. “If you still want me after tonight.”

Dean took both of her hands in his. “Melody, you are the only woman I want—tonight, tomorrow, next year, and next decade. That won’t change. No matter what.”

Melody’s emerald eyes glistened. “Promise?”

He wiped a tear from her smooth cheek. “Promise.”

“Oh, Dean! I do love you! I love you so much!” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed into him, raining kisses all over his face.

He laughed again, trying to capture her mouth—and then her lips found his and everything changed. After that first night, when he’d moved too fast and frightened her, Dean had been taking it slow—really slow. He made sure he followed her lead. Sometimes they’d curl up on his couch, or here, by the fire pit, and he’d hold her while she kissed him. Lately, she’d been doing a lot of exploring—three nights ago she’d actually asked him, shyly and sweetly, to take off his shirt. He’d happily complied, and then had thoroughly enjoyed her hesitant caresses, being careful not to do anything that might spoil the sense of trust and safety he’d built between them.

That night her kisses changed, and so did her caresses. Neither were hesitant. Her eager mouth consumed him, asking for more as her tongue teased in time with hands that reached under his shirt, gliding up to find his sensitive nipples and then down to the waist of his jeans, where her clever fingers played over his trembling skin.

Slowly, he found the edge of her top, letting his fingers move up and under to the unbelievably warm, unbearably soft skin beneath it.

Melody moaned against his mouth. “Yes, Dean, touch me. I want you to.”

Finally, Dean allowed his hands to follow his fantasies. They dipped under her shirt, softly caressing the smooth, curved line of her waist up and up until he found the fullness of her breasts. She arched into his touch, gasping in pleasure as he teased her taut nipples.

“Dean! I—I have to show you something. Have to tell you something.”

“Anything, Melody—you can show me, tell me, anything.”

Dean kissed a line up her neck, loving the seductive scent of salt and sea that always clung to her skin. He was so mesmerized by the taste and touch of her that he almost didn’t notice when she began to change.

Almost.

Beneath his eager lips her skin twitched. The thought that surfaced from his passion-fogged mind was that it reminded him of what a horse’s skin did when it flicked off flies, and that one, strange thought was enough to cause him to pause—to lean back—to look at Melody.

At first he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, and he just stared. Something was happening to her—something terrible.

Melody’s skin wasn’t actually twitching. It was changing. What had been soft, seductive flesh was now covered with green scales—smooth and supple like a snake. His shocked gaze went to her face. Her hair! Her beautiful, strawberry blonde hair had disappeared, and in its place was an undulating mass of copper tentacles.

Dean’s head swiveled back and forth, back and forth. The fear hit him then—hard and deep in his gut. He tried to fight against it—tried to think through the panic and make sense out of what was happening, but the horror was visceral, uncontrollable, and overwhelming.

He surged from the chaise, stumbling against the fire pit and almost knocking it over.

“Dean! Be careful!”

The voice was still hers, but it echoed from a mouth that was now ringed with sharp, glistening teeth.

“No! No, no, no!” He heard himself speaking, but it seemed as if the sounds were coming from another person.

“Dean, it’s okay—I promise. It’s just me. This is the real me. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you—show you.”

“No! This can’t be real! It can’t be happening. You’re—you’re…” He forced his gaze from her teeth to her eyes. They were huge emerald orbs in which he saw nothing but his terrified reflection. “Oh, God! You’re not even human!”

Water spilled from her strange eyes, washing down her jewel-colored cheeks. She stood and took a hesitant step forward. Terror spiked from deep within him. Dean staggered back so quickly that he tripped and almost fell.

“I’m sorry! So, so sorry!” Melody spoke imploringly. “Please don’t be afraid of me. I can explain this—I can explain all of this, just sit down and give me a chance.”

“What are you?” Dean heard himself ask, though he wasn’t sure how he was still able to speak, as an overwhelming and instinctual need to get away from her consumed him.

“I’m a Siren,” she said.

“You’re a monster!” he shouted.

“Dean, it’s me. I’m still the Melody you love and who loves you right back. None of that has changed.”