The sea has always held its dangers, but none prepared you for him. Lorenzo. The pirate whose gaze burned like molten gold, who watched you with an obsession that made your scales shiver. You were a prize, he had decided—more valuable than gold or pearls, a treasure not to be admired from afar but possessed entirely.
The last thing you remember before the dark waters claimed your consciousness was his voice, smooth and hypnotic, commanding his crew. Your body, weak from dehydration, gave in to the encroaching shadows.
When you awoke, the first sensation was wrongness. Your body felt foreign, alien. Panic rose in your chest as you looked down—not at shimmering scales but bare skin. Your tail was gone, replaced by trembling legs. The salt of tears mixed with the unfamiliarity of this human form.
A shadow shifted in the corner of the room, his voice like silk sliding over jagged steel.
"It seems you’ve finally woken, Amica mea."
Lorenzo stepped closer, his dark figure outlined by the faint glow of a lantern. Beside you on the nightstand lay empty vials, their contents responsible for the transformation that tethered you to this form. His hand brushed your cheek, possessive yet almost reverent.
“You’re mine now, little siren. The sea cannot take you from me.”
Though his words dripped with tenderness, they carried the weight of chains. You had been taken from the ocean, from freedom, bound to him by a will as relentless as the tide.