Siren's Love Song

By Alexa Piper

As a siren, Mike has a voice to sway a human heart. But he is a lawyer first, and when he meets a cute librarian, it’s Mike who is being swayed. Before the siren knows it, a chance meeting is turning into passionate love.

Corvin loves books and is passionate about being a librarian. When a tall, dark, and extremely handsome lawyer walks into his life, he is over the moon and in love. Yes, Mike likes humming and singing, and Mike’s boss is a little odd, but Corvin knows Mike loves him, and that is all that counts.

Mike has been keeping his siren nature a secret from Corvin, and with each passing day, with each step they take toward each other, telling the human he loves what Mike truly is becomes more difficult for Mike. Yet, when they are about to leave the city and take a beach vacation so Mike can work up the nerve to tell Corvin, a jealous necromancer ex shows up and tells Mike he wants him back. Now, Corvin needs to know what Mike really is. All Mike can do is hope that their love will be enough to make Corvin accept him as worlds and desires clash.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Sep 2, 2021

Book preview

Chapter One

Three Years Ago

Mike had always thought that the background music the supermarket near New Elvenswood’s university campus spouted from the hidden speakers was about as cultured as a day-old piece of gum stuck to the sole of a smelly running shoe, yet here he was. Granted, he hadn't come for the music, but for the almost ridiculously wide selection of spices on offer. Specifically the cayenne pepper was the best and Mike’s reason for enduring the music. Two baggies of the stuff were already in Mike’s shopping basket.

Mike let his eyes wander over the various salts the market had in stock. They had anything from pink to black, from coarse to fine, and a part of Mike was wondering why he was even bothering with the fancy ones when he really just needed salt for cooking, for pasta water essentially. He sighed, scratched the back of his head, and picked out a pink variety, which went into his shopping basket to keep the cayenne pepper company.

I think pink salt from some mine somewhere on another continent just became the highlight of today. Mike thought back to the rest of the day, which he’d spent reviewing contracts for a selkie client.

Mike left the spice aisle behind and headed to the produce section. He enjoyed cooking, even after a long day, because something about preparing the food without hurry just made him relax. He liked cooking for friends as well but had never minded just doing it for himself. As he picked out bell peppers, Mike began to hum a low melody, which barely drowned out the ugly background music the store used to torture all shoppers.

Turning to the ginger root, Mike caught sight of another shopper, though he actually looked at the shopper only after he saw the man’s T-shirt. I am a DRAGON, look how I boar, it read, displaying a grumpy cartoon boar, half hidden by a pink dragon costume. That T-shirt was wonderfully ridiculous, and Mike found himself smiling.

The man who wore it under a neat black denim jacket didn’t notice. He was too engrossed with the pineapples, picking one up and giving it a critical look, then putting it down again and subjecting its neighbor to the same scrutiny. The whole thing looked, for lack of a better word, cute.

Mike cleared his throat, and the man looked from his pineapple to Mike. Dragon T-shirt had brilliant green eyes. You want them just slightly soft when you squeeze the shell. Definitely not hard, Mike told the other man.

My mother told me not to trust men who have such strong opinions about pineapples, Dragon T-shirt said. His blond hair fell over his eyebrows and almost tangled in his dark lashes, and Mike felt the sudden urge to brush those soft curls out of the way. Dragon T-shirt had a bubbly voice, a bit higher than Mike’s own, and with an excitable, bright echo to it.

Mike nodded thoughtfully. I assure you, that was no opinion, just an observation. He leaned over the pile of ginger root in front of him. But if you care for my opinion, it’s the dragon fruit lovers who are all kinds of trouble. He tilted his head. Nice T-shirt, by the way.

To Dragon T-shirt’s credit, he never looked down to his own T-shirt. Thank you. I like a man who knows soaring fashion when he sees it. He blinked, then held out the pineapple to Mike. Check this for me.

Mike took the offered fruit. It felt fine to him, but he still walked around the aisle until he stood next to Dragon T-shirt. Mike put the pineapple he’d been handed back down and picked out another, made a small show of examining it, and then handed that to Dragon T-shirt. Here. This’ll be sweet.

And Dragon T-shirt actually licked his bottom lip before he took the fruit from Mike. Their fingers brushed against each other’s, and Mike wanted to launch into a low hum at the contact, but he didn’t. Few supernaturals would willingly stick out like Dragon T-shirt, and so Mike had to assume this cute man with a hankering for pineapple was all human.

Thank you, Dragon T-shirt said, and Mike really wished the next words out the man’s mouth would be a suggestion about how they could devour that damn pineapple together. I’m Corvin, Dragon T-shirt said instead.

Michael, Mike said, holding out his hand for Corvin to shake. And only my mother and my boss ever call me that. I’m Mike to everyone else.

Hi, Mike, Corvin said, the dragon T-shirt rippling with the movement of his chest. Do you always pick up strangers who are shopping for exotic fruit?

Mike held up his hand, palm out, shook his head. No, and I don’t mean to pick you up. No wait. How about I invite you to have my homemade pineapple sherbet with me?

Corvin didn’t look amused. Yes, I can clearly see you do not regularly pick up fruit shoppers.

Mike had to agree that an offer of pineapple sherbet was not the kind of thing to romance anyone’s pants off. Then again, he’d just spent about ten minutes picking out salt. His higher brain functions had clearly been impaired by the reading of contracts. Right, I see what you mean. Honestly, though, can I take you on a date? In a public place, and if you feel like pineapple sherbet after, you can simply let me know? I just picked out fancy salt and was ready to declare it the high point of my day, but if you said yes, that would be a far better high point than salt.

At that, Corvin grinned. Mike, are you trying to get a pity date out of me? No, don’t answer that. Give me your phone.

Mike did and watched as Corvin added himself to Mike’s contacts before handing the phone back. Here, Corvin said. You may text me with a time and location, just don’t make it anything ridiculous.

Now, Mike really wanted to hum, loudly, but he controlled himself. Promise, he said. And it’s not a pity date, he added.

Corvin lifted his chin dramatically. I will be the judge of that. Enjoy your pink salt, Mike, he said, and left the fruit aisle.

Enjoy the pineapple, Mike called after him.

Corvin looked over his shoulder. I’ll let you know if it was sweet enough for me, he said, and Mike watched him vanish behind the canned goods, appreciating that he got to see Corvin leave, because it gave Mike a good view of the other man’s ass and shoulders and that cotton-soft hair that covered the nape of Corvin’s neck.

Once the cute human was out of sight, Mike turned and began to hum. He picked up the pineapple Corvin had handed him and forgot anything else that he’d come here to buy. He paid, walked to his car, humming still, drove home, and once he closed the front door behind him, he filled the house with song rather than just humming, because too much silence when his heart was full of joy wasn’t something the siren part of Mike could handle for long.

When he got into the kitchen, he realized he’d bought bell peppers, cayenne pepper and salt, and a pineapple, not exactly a meal, but that didn’t much matter. He sliced the pineapple into juicy chunks with his sushi knife and proceeded to eat the entire fruit as he sat on his couch and contemplated where to take Corvin for their date.

* * *

The next day, a semi-sunny Friday, dragged on and on. First, Mike’s selkie client had had a string of superfluous questions for Mike, then his boss had asked whether Mike would be available for a mediation the next week.

Peter Collins, the senior partner -- and also a vampire -- had asked more out of courtesy, of course, because Mike worked for him, but Peter was nice like that, unless he’d not had a good feeding in a while and was veering toward cranky. A bit like the vampire cliché, Peter was suave and very easy on the eyes, something Mike had needed some time to get used to, because an office romance was not something Mike was interested in.

After Peter had left Mike’s office, Mike went for his phone and pulled up Corvin’s number. He started humming absentmindedly as he typed. Do you know the Old Church? They used to have confession, but now they do cocktails. Later tonight, if you’re up for it, Mike typed. He read the text over a few times, then hit send.

The rest of the day, Mike spent with the mediation case so he could get up to speed on it. Collins & Partners handled a lot of issues for supernatural clients, but this mediation was just one human ready to sue another. Peter had probably asked Mike to help out because the vampire had a tendency to rub humans the wrong way, and as a siren, Mike would be able to smooth that over with just a few notes. During his case file reading, Mike ignored the temptation to look at his screen every few minutes, but when his phone finally buzzed, he nearly jumped in his chair.

Pineapple Mike! Yes, I am up for going to church with you, Mike read. His face warmed with anticipation and happiness. I know where the Old Church is. Meet you outside at 7?

On the dot, Mike wrote back, fully factoring in that he was going to be ten minutes early, because he hated the thought of making a date wait for him.

A date. Oh, if his mother knew, she’d be beside herself and would dig for details like a dog for a bone. Mike’s mom was a full siren while his dad was half siren. It probably wasn’t why they’d divorced early on, but Mike was an only child. Now that he was thirty, his mother had abandoned all subtlety about the hints she liked to drop in regards to his marital status, something she found lacking.

Mike turned his attention back to the case file, absorbing as much of the information there as he could with his mind occupied with anything but legal matters.

In the end, he left his office and the case file early enough to get home, take a shower, and get dressed in something that didn’t involve a tie. Since it was a relatively warm New Elvenswood spring day, Mike opted for a T-shirt, though none of what he had in his closet could possibly hope to match Corvin’s sense of whimsy. But Mike knew that charcoal gray really made his own near-black hair stand out in low lighting and as a result made his blue eyes pop. In fact, Peter had told him, three months in, that Mike should aim for charcoal suits most of the time, and since the vampire knew to dress for the office as if it were a royal court, Mike had heeded the advice, only rarely going for navy or anything lighter.

Mike called an Unter Ride, because he wasn’t going to drive when he might have a drink, and after a short walk through New Elvenswood’s old town, he arrived in an area less frequented by tourists. There, ambitious missionaries had at one point built a church, and being ambitious, they had built it large enough for a night club. That hadn’t been their original intent, but in New Elvenswood, with its large witch and supernatural population, organized religion had been fighting an uphill battle, and the church had been sold in the end.

The nightclub had been revamped completely a year ago, because the previous owner had sold it. Mike had been involved as the new buyer’s attorney. The Old Church now was more of a place for live music and anything from craft beer to champagne, and their tapas weren’t half bad either.

The few tourists who were walking through the dusk-dark streets with craning heads likely wanted to get to the Old Church, because