Siren Song (The Fated #1)

03 | Strange Happenings

True to his word, the stranger left her alone for several hours.

Iliana spent them examining the room for anything that might help her, and when she found nothing, she paced like a caged animal. Her thoughts churned, replaying the previous scenes with the utmost scrutiny.

I think I saw... five men, she decided. With Aran and the kidnapper, that made the crew amount to seven. But he mentioned a woman's name.

She paused, mulling that matter over. Perhaps she could use that. Try to draw sympathy from whomever the other woman was. If that didn't work, she could try using the men. Sirens were supposed to be alluring, right? Even if it was her... shouldn't she be able to do something to pull them into her pace? She'd become a siren, perhaps she could sing. The idea made her skin crawl, but she wouldn't dismiss a potential weapon, even if it was what had landed her in this situation in the first place. If the crew of the Airlea was alive...

Ifs wouldn't get her off the ship. She needed to focus.

Moving back towards the door, she plucked the ceremonial blade from where it'd still been secured against her thigh. Before she tried talking to people, she'd give fighting back one more shot. After all, no one had ever praised Iliana for her skill with words.

So, she waited with her back against the wall. Time seemed to inch by, but she forced herself to stay still and as alert as possible. An impossible task, as her body was practically screaming its weariness. At some point, she fell into a half-dozing state. The sound of someone in the hall jerked her to attention. Iliana's heart began to race, her hand clenching around the hilt of her weapon.

The second the door swung open, she sprung forward. Before she could land a blow, however, a hand caught her wrist. Within seconds he'd used her momentum to spin her against the wall, arm twisted to a painful degree so her weapon was pressed lightly against her own waist. She froze, knowing any movement on her end would merely cause her pain. In turn, her captor let out a low chuckle.

"I thought this might happen," he mused. "Damn good thing I didn't send Ira to fetch ya, lass. Not sure how the crew would take it if you hurt the lad."

Her answer was a series of curses, and a vague threat on what she'd do if he didn't let her go. The man simply continued to chuckle, seeming entirely too lax given the circumstances.

"I'd hoped a few hours down here would make you simmer down a bit, but it'd seem not," he said, his tone an irritating mixture of amusement and thoughtfulness. "I'd leave you here to see if you just need more time, but the boys got it in their heads to do a real breakfast, and I ain't got it in my heart to tell them no."

In her head, she was murdering him ten different ways. Everything about this man was aggravating her. He acted as if he didn't have a blade on her, and wasn't pinning her to a wall at the moment. If anything, he sounded as if she and him were some old friends, and she was the one in the wrong. As if she should appreciate them making breakfast for her, the captive.

"I won't eat."

"Now that's just rude," he retorted.

"And pinning me to a wall isn't?" she snapped.

He fell silent for a second, as if considering her words. "Well, fair enough."

Just as sudden as he'd trapped her, the man let her go. She spun around, eyeing him warily. He hadn't even bothered to force her to release the weapon. Rather, he seemed to have forgotten about it completely as he posed his thumb beneath his chin, wrinkling his brow in thought. Something about the studious gaze he focused on her in that moment rubbed her wrong, so Iliana offered a harsh glare in return.