The Siren's Touch Read Online Free PDF Page A

window where Dmitri loomed, his broad shoulders obscuring the scenic view. Even though he sat slumped in the chair, his little aunt barely matched his height, and she wore heels.
    Her shocking outfit appeared to be a man’s suit, tailored for her miniature frame. Slacks of black wool crepe with a hint of pin striping grazed the top of patent-leather shoes. The matching jacket of the masculine ensemble was so well cut it flattered the woman’s figure in surprisingly feminine angles. Her black bob was sleek, framing her jaw and softening its lines.
    She could appreciate the care put into the older woman’s dress and appearance. It was an odd style, one she’d never seen in Kiev, to be sure. But perhaps it was the latest fashion from Paris. She found herself curious to know what others were wearing outside the little house on the strange street.
    Elena’s circuit took her back to Dmitri, whose eyes seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into his head. Dark charcoal circles now swept arcs underneath them and his crystal-blue irises popped with unnerving intensity. If she had nerves, they would have been undone by his gaze. Without them, it was rather mesmerizing.
    “Auntie, tell me about rusalki.” He gripped the little woman’s arm.
    His aunt came to a halt, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I’m trying to recall. Dmitri, understand, they are obscure mythological creatures. They only appear in a few stories, the oldest fairytales. Hmm. I believe they are said to have green eyes with no irises or pupils.”
    “No. Her eyes are brown. Normal eyes, just very dark, almost black. Maybe she’s not—”
    “I don’t see what else she can be, if she came from the teapot.”
    His gaze followed the ghost, and the prickle of it heated her not-real skin. She gave him a reassuring nod.
    With her permission, he pressed on. “Tell us about rusalki then.”
    “According to the legends, they are the spirits of women who drowned themselves after being jilted by a lover. Suicides, often women pregnant outside of marriage. Or their deaths were grave injustices and they linger in the world to avenge them.”
    Her translucent hand went to her belly. With mysterious certainty, she knew there had been no child there. But an injustice—that notion sent ghostly energy sizzling through her.
    “Does she have powers?” he asked.
    Elena snapped her fingers. “Pay attention, Dmitri. I said she is a siren.”
    Through the slow burn of vengeful fury, she tried to make sense of the older woman’s words. Sirens. They were from Homer’s tale of Odysseus, luring the sailors onto the rocks with their beautiful songs. The memory of a blush came over her in one hot flash. That’s what her voice did to Dmitri—some kind of supernatural seduction.
    He must have come to the same conclusion, because he narrowed his eyes, fixing her to the spot where she hovered beside Elena, who had bent to retrieve the silver bases of the teacups—all that remained of her lovely stekans .
    “She’s using magic to control me?” Angry, his voice had even more gravel in it.
    “What?” Elena straightened, each centimeter of her little frame erect, clasping the silver handles in one hand and brushing the other off on her trousers. “Oh, I see. You’ve experienced her powers?”
    He shifted in his chair, his gaze darting away, and he coughed something that sounded like a yes.
    Guilt pooled in her ghostly shell.
    Poor man.
    He’d only offered to help her because she had some kind of supernatural sex appeal. If he’d met her alive, dressed in her woolen skirts and hand-knit sweaters, he’d have thought she was the plainest Jane. Not a seductive bone in her body.
    “From my limited understanding, I’d guess she doesn’t want to destroy you, but only to ensure your help achieving her revenge.”
    Dmitri ran his hand over his shaved head, and the shadow of stubble there promised hair as thick and glossy as Elena’s.
    Why did he shave it all off?
    With one