Gemma hated how good she felt when she woke up. The effects of feeding yesterday hadn’t worn off. If anything, they’d only grown stronger. Her body was like liquid. Every movement she made was smooth and fluid, and she felt like she was gliding everywhere she went.

When she got out of bed, she actually danced around the room, unable to help herself. And while she’d never had any formal training of any kind, she moved like a ballet dancer. As if elegance had suddenly become part of her DNA.

She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that she was glowing. She could feel it. Her skin was positively luminous.

And despite her best efforts to feel guilty and mourn the loss of the man she’d murdered yesterday, her sirenness was at full blast, and happiness radiated through her.

The sadness was still there, because she had done something absolutely horrific and could never forgive herself for it. But it was buried down deep inside her, hidden with the rest of her negative emotions that the new siren powers didn’t want her to feel.

She went down the stairs two steps at a time, simply because she felt like it, and nearly bumped into Sawyer, who was standing at the bottom.

“Good morning, Gemma,” he said, sounding even more dazed than usual. He looked almost awed by her beauty, and Gemma felt a sharp pang of self-loathing that she had that effect on him. Or any guy, for that matter.

“Morning,” she replied, smiling at him anyway.

She was pleased to find that the insatiable lust she’d been feeling for him had disappeared. Sure, she still thought Sawyer was attractive, but she had absolutely no urge to jump him.

“Do you need anything?” Sawyer asked, following her into the kitchen.

“Dear God, Sawyer, stop drooling on the poor girl,” Penn said with an exaggerated eye roll. “She doesn’t need to deal with you acting like a dog in heat first thing in the morning.”

Penn was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. A trashy magazine was spread out before her, showcasing the best and worst beach bodies, and a half-empty glass of orange juice sat next to it.

“Sorry.” Sawyer stared down at his feet, looking ashamed.

“I see you slept well,” Penn said, turning her attention to Gemma as she languidly flipped the pages in the magazine.

“I slept fine,” Gemma replied noncommittally, and opened the fridge. There wasn’t much in the way of food, but she grabbed an apple, then shut the door.

“Well, you look radiant,” Penn said without looking at her. “Being a siren obviously suits you.”