The Siren KATHERINE JOHN (100 best novels of all time .TXT) 📖

I tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear with my left hand, displaying the rock on my ring finger. “I’d say it’s a little more than fucking,” I said. “But yeah, a lot of that too.”

“God, I remember how hot it was in the beginning,” she reminisced. “Like the sun shines only for you, right? You can’t keep your hands off each other, and he’s so naughty.” She counted on her fingers. “We did it in bathrooms at restaurants, on the kitchen counter, on the deck of his boat just far enough out at sea that probably no one could see…It was a rush. And that four-poster bed of his comes in handy, doesn’t it?”

She towered over me, a smile playing around her lips. I wouldn’t be able to cook dinner in his kitchen again without seeing her spread-eagled on the center island, and she knew it. “Don’t tell me you thought you were the only one he liked to cover in honey.” She cocked her head, trying to read my blank expression. “Or has he not done that yet?” He had, as a matter of fact, just the other night. “It’s a good one.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

She took a little baggie of white powder from her bra and dumped a bump on her thumb joint, then snorted it. “I’m just being a friend,” she said, repeating the process on the other side.

I crossed my arms. “How’s that?”

Her pupils were the size of saucers. “I know I’m a bitch. But I like you, Stella. I really do. That’s why I have to…” She lowered her voice. “It’s wonderful now, I know, but when he loses interest—and trust me, he will, sooner than you think—it’s like…” She snapped. “You know tarot?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“The tower card, the one where it’s dark and the building is on fire and people are jumping out windows? It’s like that.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips. “I love our son. Jackson is the one good thing that came out of our relationship, but…” She clenched and released her jaw. “I just wish someone had warned me at the beginning what the end would look like.” She swept aside her side-cut bangs from her forehead, displaying the faint trace of a white scar. “It’s not worth it.”

And with that she knocked back the latch and flung open the door, leaving me gaping after her.

I didn’t listen. I wrote off her warning as envy. I wasn’t sure where she’d gotten that scar, but I was sure it wasn’t from my doting fiancé, and even more certain that he would never do something like that to me. He’d told me a million times he’d “never felt this way about someone.”

In the months afterward, when Bar and I had to interact with each other while I was married to Cole, she was indeed a bitch, as, admittedly, was I. Still, I never mentioned our bathroom conversation to Cole. And years later, when he’d proved her right, I sent her a care package with a beautiful hand-painted set of tarot cards, to say thank you for her attempt to save me from the pain he ultimately caused me.

Taylor

Rejuvenated by the sun and soft water, I felt as ready for my awkward conversation with Cole as I would ever be. All I had to do was pull him aside and ask what exactly happened the other night. Easier said than done, but I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

Only, when I flipped onto my belly to swim for shore, I found that the strip of white sand rimmed by green palms had receded. I was out far past the outcropping of rocks, drifting farther with every breath. My pulse quickened. Lost in thought, I must have floated into a current headed out to sea.

Alarmed, I tried to remember what to do. Swim parallel to shore. That was it. Don’t fight it. But the shore was an island, its shoreline curved. Panic gripped my chest. I was a decent swimmer but not a strong one. I knew freestyle and breaststroke, but I’d never been on the swim team, never swam any distance. And certainly not any distance in the ocean.

I decided to make a go for the pier. I swam freestyle, kicking with terror-driven fervor, clawing the water with cupped hands. Was I even moving? I couldn’t tell. I focused my eyes on the pier, where I thought I saw a man—but when I looked again, he was gone. I kept swimming. My thighs and shoulders burned. I blinked seawater from my eyes and spat it from my mouth. My chest heaved.

I seemed to be getting closer to the pier but was still being swept out to sea. How wide was this current? I saw a WaveRunner in the distance and waved frantically, but between the waves and the salt water in my eyes, I couldn’t tell whether whoever was on it saw me. My muscles were growing tired fast. I kicked harder, pushing with everything I had.

Don’t panic. Just swim.

Were there sharks in the water? It was too deep to see clearly, which only added to my panic. I could die out here. I was completely beat, my energy consumed. But I had to keep going.

Suddenly came the heartening sound of a motor close by. The WaveRunner circled, throwing wake that crashed over me. Thank God. I sputtered as arms enveloped me.

“You’re okay.” A man’s voice beside me in the water. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Relief warmed my chest. I was saved. I did my best to relax as he turned me to my back, supporting my head and wrapping one of his strong arms around my chest while he swam us easily toward the WaveRunner.

He hoisted me up and set me astride the seat, then pulled himself up next