SIREN Chapter One
It's officially May, and we're now eighteen days away from the release of Siren!
To celebrate, we're dropping the first chapter for you to read early!
� This is a *dark* fantasy romance. Please read responsibly and read the list of content warnings available on authorarrose.com�
𝘼 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙣.
MAY 18 🏴☠ R.J. Lewis + A.R. Rose
🔱 A dark reimagined fairytale inspired by The Little Mermaid
🔱 Enemies to Lovers
🔱 Forbidden
🔱 Age Gap
🔱 One Bed
🔱 Captive
Preorder:
Add to your TBR: /book/show/1...
Chapter One - James
Chaos. Screams of agony in the Black Sea. The long strands of colorful hair and sparkling eyes that speak of purity and sin. A heart beating raucously, desire like liquid heat in my veins as she swims gracefully to me, her bare breasts teasingly visible above the waterline.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Cock thickening, lust clouding my thoughts as she draws near to me, her skin glimmering even in the darkness.
She’s so beautiful, it physically puts an ache in my center. And I know it’s not real—she’s an illusion. A murderous little fish, hardly human. I know I must kill her—she knows she must kill me. Yet she stops right before me, those innocent eyes growing blacker, her skin greyer, her teeth sharpening as she bares them to me.
She’s playing with me.
Taking her time.
Her instincts ache to rip my heart out.
As her beauty fades into the sea, the monstrous-looking siren swims before me, omnipotent. My body instantly grows rigid, the lust dissipating from my body. But before I can fight, an enchanting sound falls from her lips. It’s so riveting, my being softens, though my mind is screaming—screaming so loud, I feel like a trapped prey in my own body!
She nears, drawing so close, I feel the ripples in the water surrounding her. Surrounding us.
A sudden burn radiates from my chest as she carves into it with her long claws, and then I hear it—a piercing of flesh and bone, followed by a pain so great, I lose complete mobility.
I stare wide-eyed into the black eyes of this demonic woman as she holds my heart in her tight grip.
And crushes it.
*
Stirring from my dream, I hear him before he’s even entered my quarters. His stench—cigar smoke and misery—permeates the air the moment the door opens. His quiet footsteps are so light—that of a frail old man—even my fucking dog, Rex, doesn’t stir at my side.
My eyes open, but I remain still. His silhouette disturbs the darkness as he approaches my side. On reflex, my hand curls around my switchblade beneath the pillow. Years of engrained training to be ready at any unexpected threat, you’d think I wouldn’t be set off so quickly, being in the comfort of my own fucking ship.
But, alas, that is not the case.
Bloodshed is like water to me now. It’s everywhere. I need it to live, to survive, to rule. And just like water, I might drown in it one day. Because all it takes is for one enemy to outsmart me, and as I’ve learned with a dead family behind me, an enemy will always find a way to get to you.
It’s why I clench my blade tight; it’s why I stare up at Grimy and know that, despite his loyal servitude, he might be the one to plunge a dagger into my chest when I least expect it.
Even the one I trust the most, I question.
I’m crazy. Those dreams are getting inside my head�
He doesn’t reach out to touch me. Instead, his voice wafts to me in a hesitant whisper. “We are fogged, your—Captain.�
Not a rarity. I flare my nose, growling, “If all you’ve come here to do is tell me we’ve been fogged, I swear to fucking God, you’ll be walking the plank within the hour, Grimy.�
He pauses in his response, and I stare at his face intently, waiting for more. “We should be nearing the Isle of Morda—�
“If it’s reefs you’re concerned with, have Martin at the bow of the ship with a sounding line—�
“Already done—�
“You should detect how shallow the waters are—�
“That’s the thing, Captain, we have.� Grimy sounded uneasy now, shuffling from foot to foot. “We’ve been treading at six fathoms for hours now. It’s as though…it’s as though we haven’t even moved.�
*
It’s three in the morning and quiet as death when I step out onto the deck to judge the situation for myself. Lanterns hang every few feet above my head, their light illuminating barely enough to navigate through the dark. When I shoot Grimy a questionable look, he tells me, “The electric coils keep shutting off. Even the torches don’t stay on.� To prove it to me, several crewmates produce their flashlights and switch them on and off repeatedly, to no avail. I say nothing as I pace past them and to the bow of the ship. It’s a long walk—my three-decked black ship is 150 feet long and 43 feet tall. Shaggy-haired Rex huffs by my side, his ancient body struggling to keep up. I drop my hand in front of his snout to ease him, and he licks it.
I can hardly see in front of me. The white fog is so thick it’s like a curtain, obscuring all visibility.
Young and carefree Martin is standing over the depth sound line. When he hears my footsteps along the creaky wooden deck, he shoots a wide-eyed look over his shoulder. “Still the same, Captain! Six fathoms!�
Six fathoms is too shallow for comfort. We’re close to land—possibly the Isle of Morda, which is riddled with jagged cliffs and reefs. And what a fucking hole that island is. I truly hope we aren’t anywhere near it.
We can’t fuck about.
I shout out, “Slow us right down! Send the longboats!�
It’s protocol to deploy the smaller boats and have them lead in front of the ship. Within minutes, the deck has come alive with crewmates, some scraggly, others polished, some old, some far too young to be on here. All loyal to me—loyal to the man who has allowed them steady work and passage despite their crimes and shadowy pasts. Most of my men on the Trident are convicted felons who have either escaped prison or are searching for their next spree of wicked crime.
And me?
Fuck, I’m running, but not for the same reasons.
I should be living in the light, not raiding islands in the dark like some treasure obsessed pirate.
My ship should gleam in gold, not filled to the brim with questionable currency and prohibited liquids that sell for an exorbitant price on the black market.
Yet here we fucking are.
My clothes are covered in grit, my dark palms creased in grease and calloused from work. My black hair is cropped short like a true gentleman should have it, though it’s been a long time since anyone’s called me a gentleman. I should behave with principle, my mind the valuable source of power. Instead, I’m rippling with muscle because the sea demands payment for surviving on it, let alone thriving.
It’s a grand fucking existence if you couldn’t tell.
It’s not long before we drop the long boats into the waters filled with several of my men, holding tightly onto lit lanterns. They deploy in front of the ship. We’re moving at a snail’s pace now, still navigating blindly through the fog that will not let up. A crewmate is shivering not far from me as he peers out over the deck rail, staring into the invisible abyss.
A steady flow of cold air passes through us. It doesn’t have the same force as the wind; it feels like we’re being fanned with wet ice.
My head snaps in the direction it’s coming from, and for a moment, the stillness feels like another entity altogether. My body straightens, my stance suddenly defensive. I slowly pull the switchblade from my pocket, my fingers curling around it tightly.
Grimy comes to a stand beside me. I feel his stare as he looks up at me anxiously, whispering, “James.�
I don’t look at him, much less acknowledge that familiar tone. “I don’t want to hear it,� I grit out.
“We’ve tempted fate too long on these waters—�
“Would you rather I have stayed on land, with my tail between my legs, stuck with that ridiculous, stale girl you tried to arrange—�
“All girls from Barrhaven are a little� rigid.�
I shoot him a dry look. “She refused to even shake my hand.�
“Have you seen the state of them?� He tsks, adding, “You make a fuss wherever you go, searching for an impossible woman. And this Barrhaven girl wanted nothing to do with you because you were spotted at the brothel—�
“Doing business with the Madame that looks after those whores.�
Grimy looks disturbed, shaking his head at me. “You keep trying to explain yourself. You sold them drugs!� To make a point of it, he grabs a stray needle on the nearest water barrel and thrusts it up to my face. “This thing here, loaded with that disgusting green liquid that would tarnish your family name if they were still alive and knew what you’ve been up to. Your own crew take it, one’s left it right here, for Goddess� sake, still loaded and ready for use.�
I snatch the needle out of his hand and cast him a dark look. “You forget your fucking place, Grimy.�
Grimy purses his lips, aware now of the eyes of my crew falling to us from every direction. He’s made a grave mistake fucking about with me in front of my men, never mind during a fucked-up situation as this. A situation he will insist is siren-related. As if I haven’t heard it enough already, even my own crew is tired of his ramblings.
In the Black Sea, we’ve dealt with demonic presences far too often, and while this is strange as fuck, it would have to get a whole lot worse for it to be siren-related.
There are no sirens left.
But my past gnaws at me, reminding me that isn’t entirely true.
Suddenly, a crewmate from one of the longships bellows in the distance. “We’re being pushed back!�
“By what?� Briggs, my second-in-command, shouts back from the bow of the ship.
There’s no response, and now there’s tension and fear rippling through my men. I sense their unease, and I fight to contain my own, but then the ship comes to a jerking stop. It’s so sudden, several of us falter in our step.
“We’ve stopped dead still!� shrieks Martin.
I look at Grimy just as the Trident begins to quake beneath our feet, the wood groaning like it’s in pain.
This is all too similar.
It’s happening all over again.
Grimy’s eyes are shining with fear and loathing, but then he grabs at my wrist, making sure the bronzed bracelet is still there. Of course it’s there. Where the fuck else could it be? He doesn’t have one of his own, and we communicate the realization through our looks. He gives me a faint smile. “It’ll be alright, Captain, so long as you find me—�
Suddenly, the Trident jerks forward, moving quickly along the waters. Screams erupt from all directions as crewmates seek refuge or attempt to take command of the ship.
But there’s no point.
Because, for once, I suspect Grimy is right.
A siren has found us.
A.R. Rose
To celebrate, we're dropping the first chapter for you to read early!
� This is a *dark* fantasy romance. Please read responsibly and read the list of content warnings available on authorarrose.com�
𝘼 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙣.
MAY 18 🏴☠ R.J. Lewis + A.R. Rose
🔱 A dark reimagined fairytale inspired by The Little Mermaid
🔱 Enemies to Lovers
🔱 Forbidden
🔱 Age Gap
🔱 One Bed
🔱 Captive
Preorder:
Add to your TBR: /book/show/1...
Chapter One - James
Chaos. Screams of agony in the Black Sea. The long strands of colorful hair and sparkling eyes that speak of purity and sin. A heart beating raucously, desire like liquid heat in my veins as she swims gracefully to me, her bare breasts teasingly visible above the waterline.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Cock thickening, lust clouding my thoughts as she draws near to me, her skin glimmering even in the darkness.
She’s so beautiful, it physically puts an ache in my center. And I know it’s not real—she’s an illusion. A murderous little fish, hardly human. I know I must kill her—she knows she must kill me. Yet she stops right before me, those innocent eyes growing blacker, her skin greyer, her teeth sharpening as she bares them to me.
She’s playing with me.
Taking her time.
Her instincts ache to rip my heart out.
As her beauty fades into the sea, the monstrous-looking siren swims before me, omnipotent. My body instantly grows rigid, the lust dissipating from my body. But before I can fight, an enchanting sound falls from her lips. It’s so riveting, my being softens, though my mind is screaming—screaming so loud, I feel like a trapped prey in my own body!
She nears, drawing so close, I feel the ripples in the water surrounding her. Surrounding us.
A sudden burn radiates from my chest as she carves into it with her long claws, and then I hear it—a piercing of flesh and bone, followed by a pain so great, I lose complete mobility.
I stare wide-eyed into the black eyes of this demonic woman as she holds my heart in her tight grip.
And crushes it.
*
Stirring from my dream, I hear him before he’s even entered my quarters. His stench—cigar smoke and misery—permeates the air the moment the door opens. His quiet footsteps are so light—that of a frail old man—even my fucking dog, Rex, doesn’t stir at my side.
My eyes open, but I remain still. His silhouette disturbs the darkness as he approaches my side. On reflex, my hand curls around my switchblade beneath the pillow. Years of engrained training to be ready at any unexpected threat, you’d think I wouldn’t be set off so quickly, being in the comfort of my own fucking ship.
But, alas, that is not the case.
Bloodshed is like water to me now. It’s everywhere. I need it to live, to survive, to rule. And just like water, I might drown in it one day. Because all it takes is for one enemy to outsmart me, and as I’ve learned with a dead family behind me, an enemy will always find a way to get to you.
It’s why I clench my blade tight; it’s why I stare up at Grimy and know that, despite his loyal servitude, he might be the one to plunge a dagger into my chest when I least expect it.
Even the one I trust the most, I question.
I’m crazy. Those dreams are getting inside my head�
He doesn’t reach out to touch me. Instead, his voice wafts to me in a hesitant whisper. “We are fogged, your—Captain.�
Not a rarity. I flare my nose, growling, “If all you’ve come here to do is tell me we’ve been fogged, I swear to fucking God, you’ll be walking the plank within the hour, Grimy.�
He pauses in his response, and I stare at his face intently, waiting for more. “We should be nearing the Isle of Morda—�
“If it’s reefs you’re concerned with, have Martin at the bow of the ship with a sounding line—�
“Already done—�
“You should detect how shallow the waters are—�
“That’s the thing, Captain, we have.� Grimy sounded uneasy now, shuffling from foot to foot. “We’ve been treading at six fathoms for hours now. It’s as though…it’s as though we haven’t even moved.�
*
It’s three in the morning and quiet as death when I step out onto the deck to judge the situation for myself. Lanterns hang every few feet above my head, their light illuminating barely enough to navigate through the dark. When I shoot Grimy a questionable look, he tells me, “The electric coils keep shutting off. Even the torches don’t stay on.� To prove it to me, several crewmates produce their flashlights and switch them on and off repeatedly, to no avail. I say nothing as I pace past them and to the bow of the ship. It’s a long walk—my three-decked black ship is 150 feet long and 43 feet tall. Shaggy-haired Rex huffs by my side, his ancient body struggling to keep up. I drop my hand in front of his snout to ease him, and he licks it.
I can hardly see in front of me. The white fog is so thick it’s like a curtain, obscuring all visibility.
Young and carefree Martin is standing over the depth sound line. When he hears my footsteps along the creaky wooden deck, he shoots a wide-eyed look over his shoulder. “Still the same, Captain! Six fathoms!�
Six fathoms is too shallow for comfort. We’re close to land—possibly the Isle of Morda, which is riddled with jagged cliffs and reefs. And what a fucking hole that island is. I truly hope we aren’t anywhere near it.
We can’t fuck about.
I shout out, “Slow us right down! Send the longboats!�
It’s protocol to deploy the smaller boats and have them lead in front of the ship. Within minutes, the deck has come alive with crewmates, some scraggly, others polished, some old, some far too young to be on here. All loyal to me—loyal to the man who has allowed them steady work and passage despite their crimes and shadowy pasts. Most of my men on the Trident are convicted felons who have either escaped prison or are searching for their next spree of wicked crime.
And me?
Fuck, I’m running, but not for the same reasons.
I should be living in the light, not raiding islands in the dark like some treasure obsessed pirate.
My ship should gleam in gold, not filled to the brim with questionable currency and prohibited liquids that sell for an exorbitant price on the black market.
Yet here we fucking are.
My clothes are covered in grit, my dark palms creased in grease and calloused from work. My black hair is cropped short like a true gentleman should have it, though it’s been a long time since anyone’s called me a gentleman. I should behave with principle, my mind the valuable source of power. Instead, I’m rippling with muscle because the sea demands payment for surviving on it, let alone thriving.
It’s a grand fucking existence if you couldn’t tell.
It’s not long before we drop the long boats into the waters filled with several of my men, holding tightly onto lit lanterns. They deploy in front of the ship. We’re moving at a snail’s pace now, still navigating blindly through the fog that will not let up. A crewmate is shivering not far from me as he peers out over the deck rail, staring into the invisible abyss.
A steady flow of cold air passes through us. It doesn’t have the same force as the wind; it feels like we’re being fanned with wet ice.
My head snaps in the direction it’s coming from, and for a moment, the stillness feels like another entity altogether. My body straightens, my stance suddenly defensive. I slowly pull the switchblade from my pocket, my fingers curling around it tightly.
Grimy comes to a stand beside me. I feel his stare as he looks up at me anxiously, whispering, “James.�
I don’t look at him, much less acknowledge that familiar tone. “I don’t want to hear it,� I grit out.
“We’ve tempted fate too long on these waters—�
“Would you rather I have stayed on land, with my tail between my legs, stuck with that ridiculous, stale girl you tried to arrange—�
“All girls from Barrhaven are a little� rigid.�
I shoot him a dry look. “She refused to even shake my hand.�
“Have you seen the state of them?� He tsks, adding, “You make a fuss wherever you go, searching for an impossible woman. And this Barrhaven girl wanted nothing to do with you because you were spotted at the brothel—�
“Doing business with the Madame that looks after those whores.�
Grimy looks disturbed, shaking his head at me. “You keep trying to explain yourself. You sold them drugs!� To make a point of it, he grabs a stray needle on the nearest water barrel and thrusts it up to my face. “This thing here, loaded with that disgusting green liquid that would tarnish your family name if they were still alive and knew what you’ve been up to. Your own crew take it, one’s left it right here, for Goddess� sake, still loaded and ready for use.�
I snatch the needle out of his hand and cast him a dark look. “You forget your fucking place, Grimy.�
Grimy purses his lips, aware now of the eyes of my crew falling to us from every direction. He’s made a grave mistake fucking about with me in front of my men, never mind during a fucked-up situation as this. A situation he will insist is siren-related. As if I haven’t heard it enough already, even my own crew is tired of his ramblings.
In the Black Sea, we’ve dealt with demonic presences far too often, and while this is strange as fuck, it would have to get a whole lot worse for it to be siren-related.
There are no sirens left.
But my past gnaws at me, reminding me that isn’t entirely true.
Suddenly, a crewmate from one of the longships bellows in the distance. “We’re being pushed back!�
“By what?� Briggs, my second-in-command, shouts back from the bow of the ship.
There’s no response, and now there’s tension and fear rippling through my men. I sense their unease, and I fight to contain my own, but then the ship comes to a jerking stop. It’s so sudden, several of us falter in our step.
“We’ve stopped dead still!� shrieks Martin.
I look at Grimy just as the Trident begins to quake beneath our feet, the wood groaning like it’s in pain.
This is all too similar.
It’s happening all over again.
Grimy’s eyes are shining with fear and loathing, but then he grabs at my wrist, making sure the bronzed bracelet is still there. Of course it’s there. Where the fuck else could it be? He doesn’t have one of his own, and we communicate the realization through our looks. He gives me a faint smile. “It’ll be alright, Captain, so long as you find me—�
Suddenly, the Trident jerks forward, moving quickly along the waters. Screams erupt from all directions as crewmates seek refuge or attempt to take command of the ship.
But there’s no point.
Because, for once, I suspect Grimy is right.
A siren has found us.
A.R. Rose
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