"Where is she?" My voice was sharp, dangerous. My fists clenched at my sides as I stepped toward Hook. "What did you do to her?"
The captain didn't flinch, but my eyes burned black — molten obsidian in the lamplight — and the air between us thickened with rage. My palm uncurled, and a storm of black smoke began to coil from it, writhing like a serpent eager to strike.
"Tell me," I growled, "before I summon a storm that swallows this ship whole."
Hook's one good hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. His voice was calm, but there was steel under it.
"She was a siren," he said. "She deceived you. She is no mere magical being — you know that better than I do. These creatures… they don't want you, Peter. They want your magic. The shard of the celestial that's pulsing beneath your skin."
I shook my head, teeth gritted.
"No… no, she wasn't a siren. She—" My breath caught, heart aching like a wound. "She loved me. I want her back."
"If you weren't the key to Everland," Hook said coldly, "I would have tossed you to the sea the moment I saw you."
His words bounced off me like pebbles against stone. Without another glance at him, I stormed out of the cabin, shoving the door wide enough for the hinges to scream.
The night air hit me like a slap — sharp, cold, and smelling of salt. I strode to the rails of the deck, gripping them so tightly the wood groaned. Somewhere out there, beyond the black waves, she was waiting for me. I could feel it.
Behind me, Hook's voice carried across the deck.
"Let him be," he ordered the crew. "He's under her spell. I'll be in my study, searching for a way to break her charm."
The crew obeyed, their murmurs fading as they dispersed into the dark.
I sat there, wind-whipped and breathless, arms slack where she had been.
She vanished without a sound—no splash, no shimmer. Just gone, like the tide pulling secrets beneath the sea. Yet my body still felt her—heat lingering like a phantom, her breath pressed against my neck, her magic wound around my chest.
I could feel it.
Still inside me.
Still hers.
The wind returned in slow, swirling gusts, and for a moment, I thought I heard her again.
"My lord…"
I turned sharply.
She stood across from me, barefoot on the railing, a ghost cut from moonlight. The same siren. Not illusion, not memory.
Her skin glowed faintly now, not from the sea—but from within. Like she was barely holding herself together.
"I only disappeared to escape your captain's eyes," she whispered. "But I would never leave you."
My heart thundered as she stepped down from the railing with feline grace, barefoot, soft, soundless.
"You're trembling," she murmured, reaching up. "Did I scare you?"
I shook my head, though I wasn't sure.
"Not scared… just—"
I didn't finish.
Her hand slid to the back of my neck. Cold at first. Then fire.
"You feel it, don't you?"
"What?" I whispered.
"The bond."
She stepped closer, her damp clothes clinging, the translucent fabric now nearly dry, clinging like a second skin. Every curve was pressed in moonlight. She lifted my hand and laid it against her bare waist. Her skin was impossibly soft—like warm silk stretched over magic.
She whispered in my ears quietly, "You will be able to touch me and feel me without fearing anyone, my lord. I have enchanted this ship, and now no one but you can see or hear me, my lord."
"This way," she purred, voice dripping with honey and mischief, "we can be alone. No captain to spoil our fun."
She stepped closer, her eyes gleaming like stars caught in a storm.
"If no one but you can see me," she said with a wicked grin, "then why should I bother with fabric?"
Before I could answer, she began to move—slow, deliberate, a teasing dance that pulled the night itself into her sway.
She strode naked through the ship—past the creaking mast, the shadowed food hall, and the empty storeroom—her every step a challenge and a promise.
In the bar, she spun, hips swaying like the tide, her laughter echoing only in my ears.
"Come find me," she whispered, brushing her fingers along my jaw, "or watch me vanish like a dream."
Her body was a siren's song made flesh—impossible to look away from, impossible to resist.
I could see her clearly—soft curves glowing under moonlight, skin kissed by salt and magic, every movement weaving a spell just for me.
The crew passed by, oblivious, their eyes blind to the tempest of desire just a breath away.
She winked at me, bold and free.
"Your secret temptation," she teased. "Only you get to taste the forbidden fruit tonight."
She moved like a shadow weaving through the ship's bones, every step a dance designed for me alone.
On the deck, she circled the mast, her bare feet silent against the wood. The moonlight traced the curve of her back, the swell of her hips, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
I followed, heart pounding, breath caught between awe and ache.
She slipped inside the bar, spinning slowly with a wicked smile, fingers trailing the edges of tables and bottles as if marking them hers.
No one else reacted. The crew laughed, drank, and carried on as if the ghost of a goddess was dancing just out of sight.
In the food hall, she bent to scoop up a fallen apple, holding it up with a coy glance that only I could see. Her lips parted slightly, the faintest invitation.
Then she was gone, gliding away like smoke, only to reappear in the shadowed storeroom—closer, bolder.
Her fingers brushed my jaw, cool and electric, sending shivers through my spine.
"You're the only one who gets this," she whispered, voice thick with promise. "Only you can taste my freedom... and my danger."
Her eyes glittered, fierce and wild, as she pulled me toward her.
"Now, come," she teased, "or forever wonder what it's like to touch the forbidden."
The ship's bar was dimly lit, filled with the usual clatter of mugs and low murmurs. I leaned against the polished wood, eyes locked on the empty plate before me.
"No plate for me today," I declared, voice low enough only Hook could hear. "I'll just have a drink tonight."
She appeared beside me like a whisper — naked, radiant, the curve of her body perfectly framed by the flickering lantern light.
"Maybe, my lord," she purred, sliding onto the table with effortless grace, "I should sit on your thighs instead. Then you could eat, keeping your plate right there."
I smirked, the fire in my chest kindling brighter.
"No," I said, voice thick with promise. "Let me enjoy the view." My gaze traced the soft, tempting curves exposed beneath the moonlight. "Perhaps... let me have a closer look at your inner softness."
She smiled, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Careful what you wish for."
I glanced around the bar, voice loud enough for the nearest crewmate to hear,
"Any oysters on the menu? I'm in the mood to lick something briny tonight."
The crew exchanged puzzled glances, but no one else saw the siren teasing me like a flame just out of reach.
She leaned in closer, breath warm on my neck, and whispered,
"Then feast, my dark lord. Feast on me."
Before I could lean forward to enjoy the special oyster—which looked as enticing as the temptation beside me—the room suddenly shifted.
A fierce whirl of wind tore through the bar, snuffing out every candle in its path.
The flickering lanterns sputtered and died.
Darkness swallowed the room whole.