A Pirate's Dream (17 page)

Just like what he’d done for her earlier, the waters around her began to roll. Kneading into her flesh and making her arch her back as her senses came alive with blistering speed.

His scent of clean waters saturated her nose. The calloused warmth of his palms and fingers rubbing against her sensitive, soft flesh. The heaviness of his breaths as he traced all the way down to her toes.

Gasping, when he lifted her foot, and traced between each of her toes.

She could not endure the agony of such pleasure for much longer.

Then he dropped her foot, and she felt cold. Desolate.

“Go back to bed, Nimue. Go, and lock your door.”

With an inarticulate cry, she raced out of the room and up the steps, never once looking back, running as though the hounds of hell nipped at her feet.

S
tygia had dressed in her most provocative set of pearls, wrapping them around her body in such a way as to add movement where desired to accentuate the sensual sway of her hips and breasts.

The sun had just barely begun its rise in the watery skies. Her purpose was simple—to regain Sircco’s trust once more.

She’d been too obvious and petty in her dealings with the legger, but no more. She’d worked too long and too hard to gain her king’s ear to simply allow herself to be cast off as she’d been.

And what was a legger to her? Honestly. Allowing herself to become jealous of such a... a hideous creature such as that. Humans were little more than Calypso’s rejects.

Fluffing out her hair, she swam through the palace gates.

In the above, humans had guards with weapons positioned as a first line of deterrent to anyone wishing to seek audience with their king or queen. But the folk were more civilized, allowing any to come and go as they pleased.

She smiled when she slipped through the palace doors and into the great hall. There were only a few servants up at this hour, and they were likely only the ones preparing for the morning’s breakfast.

She’d angered everyone in her attempt to show Sircco just how pathetic and soft that legger was, but no more. She’d had weeks to consider where she’d gone wrong. Stygia was still smiling when she turned the corner, but the smile vanished the moment she caught sight of the legger running away with her midnight-black curls whipping behind her and Sircco staring up at her with longing pooled in his bronze eyes.

A level of hatred and rage such as she’d never known suffused her bones.

How dare she? How dare that simpering, spoiled, evil creature attempt to get her hooks into the Sea King? He was a God among men. And the legger, she was nothing.

“That little bitch,” she hissed then plastered herself against the wall.

Sircco turned and reentered his library, closing the door softly behind him.

Taking a deep breath and forgetting everything she’d promised herself would never happen again mere moments ago, Stygia turned and fled.

There were ways to ensure that stupid legger disappeared for good, ways that could never get traced back to Stygia. Waters churning around her as she powerfully stroked through the waters of the deep, Stygia vowed vengeance.

That legger might have fooled the rest of them—she might even have the ear of the queen and king—but Stygia would show them just what a liar the legger was.

You could never trust a legger, especially not one of pirate’s blood. Hook’s daughter, there could be none worse.

No matter the cost, Stygia would vanquish this threat to her crown once and for all.

*

S
ircco pinched the bridge of his nose, staring deep into the flames of the hearth. One fact had become obvious to him—he wanted her. Desperately.

His body still burned to mate with hers. The ache in his tail had only grown worse when she’d left.

Keep her
.

The words teased at him, taunting him. Two months was all they had left, and then she’d come before him as countless others had and request her release. He would have no choice but to grant it.

But how could he? How could he let her slip away?

Yes, she was lovely, and her legs unbelievably so. They’d been so warm and so soft. She’d made tiny mewling sounds when he’d traced beneath her kneecaps. He’d always thought the bumpy ridges a horrendous deformity of circumstance, but now he wanted to lave his tongue down the length of, if only to hear her moan again.

What could he do? What should he do?

Staring at the fresco of woodland nymphs and does he’d commissioned centuries ago because of Talia’s perverse fascination with the above, he now viewed the half-naked woman as alluring, not grotesque. The way their hair swayed behind them as they danced, the way their legs bent, no longer reminding him of marionette’s on a string, but a sensual movement that enticed the eye to look further.

In some ways, he felt as though he knew Nimue and in other ways as though he knew her not at all.

A gentle rap of knuckles sounded at the door.

He knew that touch immediately, and every nerve in his body flared to life as he raced for the door. He threw it open.

Her large owl eyes stared back at him. “You scared me,” she said it softly.

He touched his palm to his chest. “I am sorry, Nimue. I did not—”

“But not for the reasons you think.” She shook her head. “You make me feel things. Too much. I’m scared when I’m with you, Sircco.”

Wanting desperately to touch her, hold her, he refrained. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing.” She shrugged, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. “Or say something. Tell me you aren’t doing this because I remind you of Talia.”

“You do not remind me of Talia.” He all but snarled. “You are you, little pirate, and I like you. Very much.”

Anyone could walk past now, hear their conversation, and see their king with his heart in his throat, held spellbound by a mere slip of a legger.

Her lashes fluttered. “I can’t sleep right now.”

Lip twitching, he reached for the curl of hair that’d slipped over her right breast, but he recalled that he should not touch her, not unless she gave him the okay. Touching her was dangerous to his sanity.

“Are you restless? Would you like to tour the gardens or—”

Words died on his tongue when she leaned up on tiptoe, causing the length of her body to press against the length of his as she cupped his cheek. Her touch was magic, easing the demons eating away at his soul.

“But you need sleep. I see it in your eyes. You’ve been up all night.”

Grabbing her wrists, locking her hand in place, he kissed her palm and felt a surge of pride when she trembled.

“I am a king, there are duties to perform.”

“No, there aren’t.” She shook her head. “Not today. I will talk to Sirenade and let her know that you feel unwell.”

He frowned. “I am well, Nimue.”

She gave him a look that brooked no arguments. This small legger, with a queenly demeanor. If she could handle a lot of scurvy pirates, it was no wonder she was far from impressed by the power he wielded.

Except when he was around her, he did not feel so powerful.

“I will do for you as you did for me yesterday.”

Frowning as he tried to understand her words, his eyes suddenly widened as it dawned on him what she meant. “Nim, if you are seen—”

“I care not.” She shrugged, planting a finger across his lips and stilling his words. “We will know the truth of it. If there was one thing my father taught me, it was that a crew is only as strong as their leader.”

“Wise man, your father,” he murmured against her flesh.

Blue eyes turned liquid, and for a moment, for the first time ever in his existence, Sircco envied the life of a pirate. He envied their ability to take whatever they wanted, damn the consequences.

If he’d been Hook, he’d have plundered her by now.

But Nimue did not deserve a mere tussle in the sheets. She deserved so much more.

Giving him a crooked smile, she grabbed his hand and yanked him out of the room. “Now come, beluga, before you drop dead of exhaustion on me.”

He could break her hold if he’d really wanted to. Her strength was nothing to his. But there were chains stronger than metal in this world, and she had them wrapped around his soul.

Keeping to her side, he crooked a brow when Cook came from around the corner. Her jaw dropped when she looked first at Nimue, who was still scantily clad and hanging onto his wrist with a viselike grip.

“Cook.” Nimue dipped her head regally then, lifting her nose in the air, walked past the servant without so much as a flinch or a flicker.

She never relaxed her grip, even when they turned down several more halls. And as if the walls had ears, suddenly, bodies were popping out of doors, jaws hanging wide and tails flicking in agitation as she continued her slow, but inexorable trail to his sleeping chambers.

Chuckling when they began their ascent up the steps, he leaned in to whisper, “They’re watching us, little pirate.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the ever-thickening crowd of mermaids. A familiar bronze-eyed gaze was among them.

His sister’s hair was in tight coils, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. The wench knew and approved. Good to know.

“I don’t care.” She climbed the stairs two at a time before calling over her shoulder, “The king needs his rest. You may all go now.”

She hadn’t shouted the words, but they’d carried weight all the same. All but Sirenade slowly drifted off, chattering among themselves. In an hour, the very city would be abuzz with the news that their king had taken up with a legger.

The prospect not nearly as worrying as he’d once feared it would be. They weren’t sleeping together. But he doubted that any of them would believe him anyway.

“You will tarnish your reputation, Nimue.” He said it one last time, and not because he was concerned for it, but to be honest. Concern for her reputation mattered not in the least bit at this moment.

If she’d done this with another legger, then yes, he’d have cared. But she was ruining it with him. His perverse need to hear her tell him once more that she didn’t care made him keep on.

Twirling on him the moment they crested the landing, she gave his chest a hard tap with her free fist. “Beluga, you let me worry about my soiled reputation. I have to meet my great-mother soon, and I’d like to see you safely settled in before I do.”

And because she no longer cared, Sircco did what he’d wanted to do since the moment she knocked at his door. Tipping her chin up, he kissed her.

It was not a chaste one, either.

Warm and languid in a way she hadn’t been for him during the night, she melted into his embrace, and he knew in his heart that something had irrevocably changed between them.

*

N
imue straddled his body. Unlike a fish, she couldn’t float in these waters.

He shifted, causing her center to flare up with an exquisite sensation of desire. Grunting, because this what not at all what she’d intended when she’d offered to return the favor, she swatted his ass.

Growling, he tried to sit up, but she shoved him back down.

“Stop fidgeting and let me do my work. Or so help me...” she gritted out. The “so help me” was far from a threat to gut him and was rather a threat to strip herself down, rub oils upon his back, and writhe upon him.

A very odd fantasy to be sure, but one she felt all the same.

“You didn’t need to slap me to get that point across, barracuda.”

Hissing, she manipulated her fingers in a much firmer grip, digging into his muscles hard.

He groaned, but the sound wasn’t one of pain, and this time, when he shifted and rubbed up against her, she didn’t swat at him, but wiggled just a little. If he would only just move to the left...

“Nimue, by the Gods,” he moaned, “please do not move.”

Holding herself perfectly still, she relaxed her grip.

How come he wasn’t falling asleep as she had yesterday? If anything, each touch seemed to make him more agitated.

“Should I get off you?”

He groaned even louder, burying his face into his pillow.

His room was even more of a wonder than hers as. His bed built of solid wood had carvings of mermaids and the sea etched upon the posters. The mattress was a firm, yet squishy lump so sensuous that when she’d set her knee down on it to give her the leverage to straddle him, she’d almost not wanted to move.

He had thick rugs on the floor and heavy crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A miniature garden of kelp and sea weed waved in the gentle current. Mixed in among them were upside-down bell-shaped flowers that sprinkled a fine gold powder everywhere.

In short, she was in love.

With the man or the room more, that one was a toss-up. Her pirate’s heart had beat a crescendo when she’d spotted the chest in the corner full to bursting with galleons and jewels.

“No,” he mumbled.

And just as she was about to begin massaging him again, he rolled over, and she couldn’t help but glance down at his tail.

She’d seen a man’s penis engorged for sex once. It’d been long, veiny, and quite purple. It’d reminded her of a one-eyed snake, and she’d been fascinated but wary of looking at them ever since.

But Sircco had nothing but smooth tail.

She frowned.

“What?” He knuckled her cheek.

How exactly did one go about saying that she was disappointed because he’d not risen for her? Wasn’t that what males did when they reciprocated feelings of sexual interest?

Not that she had any intention of having sex with him. She was still very firmly in the camp that entangling herself with him in that way was a bad idea. Still, even feeling that way couldn’t prevent her vanity from being wounded.

“Nothing,” she grumped. “Why have you turned, Sircco? I thought you wished me to massage you.”

Blowing out an aggrieved breath, he said, “I cannot relax with your legs spread upon me so.”

Hurt, because she’d thought he’d gotten past that quirk, she made to get off him, but his hands clamped down onto her waist, and he glared at her.

“Where do you think you’re going,” he snapped, and the waters between them began to churn.