The Pirate of Fathoms Deep (4 page)

If only Shemal could figure out how to get his logical, reasonable thoughts to bite. It wasn't fair he was constantly at war with his own damned mind.

"Given you have such a low opinion of us, I'd think now that you're a free man, you'd have hightailed it back to Farland."

Shemal shrugged. "If I wanted to stay at home, I would have never left, or returned a long time ago."

"You seem to hate it here more," Lesto replied.

"I don't hate it," Shemal said. "Don't get me wrong, there's a long list of
corpse fuckers that I'd love to turn into shark bait
, but most people don't mean any harm. Everyone just wants to get on with their day with as little trouble as possible. As to back home… Well, I am the youngest son of a youngest son. It's our
sacred duty to stay out of the way
unless we're doing something to help everyone else. I have no desire to spend the rest of my life serving my brothers, sisters, and all their children. By this point, there's a flock of grandchildren too." He made a face. "So I'll just stay here."

Lesto made a soft noise that Shemal could not decipher. "Not much for children?"

Shemal peered at him through the dark,
something
in Lesto's voice crackling along his skin. There was a weight to the question, as careful as Lesto had been to ask it idly. Why should it matter? What was the right answer? But even Shemal knew the only answer he could give was an honest one. Lying about such things always led to disaster. "I didn't say that. I like children, but if I'm going to spend my time raising them, I prefer they be my own, not those of my halfwit brothers more interested in the process than the results."

That got him a laugh. Shemal flushed with pleasure. It wasn't the same kind of laugh he'd gotten after punching Lesto. This was a real, genuinely amused, probably reached that pretty gray eye kind of laugh. If things were different, it was the kind of laugh to chase with a kiss.

Things weren't different, though, and the few paces between them may as well have been an ocean.

Still, he'd always been in favor of piling on the self-torture. "What about you, High Commander? How many miniature Commanders are running around commanding armies of dolls and wooden soldiers?"

"None," Lesto said, "but I was thinking of changing that in the next year or so."

Did that mean he did have a lover? Or, more likely if he was planning to have kids that soon, a spouse? Shemal didn't know if he wanted to laugh or scream or cry. "I'm sure they'll be adorable little terrors straight from the Penance Realms."

Lesto laughed again, though it didn't sound quite as happy as the first one. "So I've been told." He shoved a last bit of cheese into his mouth and stood. "If we're not going to sleep, we may as well keep walking."

"In the dark? Unless your one eye has some magical properties that my two lack, that doesn't seem a very sound notion," Shemal replied, though he climbed to his feet as he said it and swung his satchel across his chest.

"There's moonlight enough, and the ground isn't treacherous. Unless you pirates can't see in the dark even a little."

"I'm not a pirate anymore," Shemal muttered, but he obeyed the unspoken order to take the lead. Stubborn fucking halfwit.

Unfortunately, Lesto proved to be a
correct
halfwit. Shemal wasn't certain why that surprised him. He doubted Lesto was ever wrong about anything.

Except maybe about fucking pirates while they were still under arrest and awaiting sentencing, but Shemal didn't want to think about Lesto believing that had been wrong. It hadn't felt wrong, except for the bit where it could never be more than the once.

Unless he wanted to settle for being a lord's kept whore, which no, he'd rather return home and become a glorified babysitter.

They stopped for a break as the sun was coming up, settling with their backs against a large tree, Lesto facing the road and Shemal to his right , facing the way they'd come.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but the sun was well in the sky when Lesto shook him awake. "Mmf—" Shemal groaned. "No, I don't want to."

"Oh, stop whining," Lesto said gruffly, but Shemal could hear the smile in his voice and that was enough to pop his eyes open. Fuck, every time he looked at Lesto, it was like getting punched in the gut. His good eye was like a storm cloud mixed with gleaming silver. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Shemal said, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." He fumbled around to get leverage to stand, but his hand slid on dew-slick moss and he wound up falling right back down on his ass. "Mother fuck—"

Lesto's laugh drowned out the curse, and before Shemal could react, he was grabbed around the arms and hauled to his feet. That put him far too close to Lesto and his dumb, handsome face. "Are you certain you're all right?"

Shemal swallowed. "I'm fine. Let me go."

Lesto's levity faded, hurt taking its place in the moment before his face closed down and he was once more the cool, remote High Commander. His hands fell away, but the feel of them lingered on Shemal's skin as he stepped away from the tree and back onto the road.

He'd just pulled out the jug of water when Lesto said, "I can't figure you out."

Shemal looked up with a scowl. "What's to figure out?"

"Oh, I don't know," Lesto snapped. "You fucked me like there was nothing else you'd rather do then left with all the speed of a serious regret. I arranged a comfortable pardon term for you at Fathoms Deep only to return to find you had vanished without a word. One minute you look at me like you want to kiss me, and the next minute you look like you'd rather slit my throat. Which one is it?"

Dropping the jug back in the satchel before lobbing it at Lesto's head, Shemal replied, "I think we have more important things to worry about than your bruised ego. I'm sorry I didn't leap at the chance to be your dirty little secret, Commander. Get over it." He stormed off down the road, swallowing futilely against the rock in his throat, pressing a hand to his chest like he actually thought that would get his heart to slow to a less alarming pace.

And he should have expected it, he really fucking should have, but he still yelped with surprise when Lesto grabbed him from behind and yanked him back. Shemal hit the grass to the side of the road with an
oof
and stared up at the man looming over him, more turned on by Lesto's sheer presence than he would ever admit.  Even when he wanted to climb to his feet and punch Lesto again, there was an underlying desire to kiss him at the same time.

"When did I ever say I wanted to keep you as my dirty secret?" Lesto demanded.

"How about the whole sending me to be a laborer on
your
lands where I no doubt would have had to report personally to you every week or so?" Shemal's lips curled. "I know you
corpse fuckers
think we're all ignorant
Islanders
with
a few too many holes to be a useful bucket
, but I wasn't born yesterday. I've seen it happen a thousand times,
you eager mother fucker.
"

Of all things, Lesto
laughed.
Forget punching him, Shemal was going to kick him in the balls. "You do the same thing High Consort Allen does when he's agitated or overworked."

"What are you talking about?" Shemal snapped.

Turning serious again, Lesto said, "You speak more than one language at a time, snapping back and forth so seamlessly, it's obvious you don't know you're doing it." Lesto crouched down beside him. "Stop calling me a mother fucker. It's in poor taste to speak ill of the dead, and my mother was a wonderful lady when she was alive."

Shemal flinched. "Sorry."

Lesto shook his head. "I never intended to keep you a secret. I set up the pardon work at Fathoms Deep because we always need the help and we treat laborers well. I send a lot of people there, as many as I can—especially Farlanders, who get mistreated more than most. If you'd
stayed
that afternoon, I would have told you what I had in mind. You have a lot of damn nerve accusing me of shame and secrets when you're the one who couldn't leave that room fast enough. But at least now I know where we stand." He stood up then bent and hauled Shemal to his feet, unslung the bag across his own chest, and thrust it at him. Shemal oofed again as he caught it, barely avoiding dropping the damned thing on his feet. "Thank you for your assistance, but I would prefer to travel on alone from this point. Fair winds and swift waters." He turned and strode off, vanished around the bend in the road before Shemal could even begin to gather his thoughts.

The stupid, infuriating, corpse fucking bastard son of a crusty fisherman. Why was he
walking away
? Argh, spare him the confounding idiocy of Mainlanders.

Settling the second bag across his chest so it fell on the opposite hip as the other one, Shemal went storming after Lesto, nearly at a run before he finally managed to catch up. At the last moment, he opted for a lunge-tackle, sending them both crashing to the hard-packed ground.

"What in the Realms—" Lesto bellowed, jerking and twisting, trying to buck Shemal off—but only winding up thoroughly pinned in place. "The moment you let me go, you are dead," he hissed.

Shemal returned the glare full measure. "You don't get to decide all by yourself that the conversation is over. Am I going to get to defend my actions the way I let you defend yours? Or is the high and mighty commander the only one who gets a fair chance to say everything on his mind?" Shemal started to say more, but stopped short at the hurt and resignation that flickered across Lesto's face. He must be exhausted to the point of near death because surely it wasn't normal for someone like Lesto to wear his emotions so plainly.

"This high and mighty commander is done," Lesto said flatly. "Let me up, fishbait, or that is exactly how you'll end the day."

"Why did you leave before letting me explain myself?" Shemal demanded. "I listened to you, why won't you listen to me?"

"Because your fear of being my dirty secret doesn't have anything to do with the day you fucked me!" Lesto snarled, and Shemal was so taken aback by the vehemence of the words that he let down his guard—and went flying backward to land awkwardly in the grass.

He stared up, a touch awed and breathless, as Lesto rose. Damn it, was there a single moment of the day where the man was not magnificent? Even dirty, scruffy, and verging on murderous, all Shemal wanted to do was stare and touch.

"I can see where you misunderstood my attempts to help in sending you to Fathoms Deep, and I am sorry," Lesto said. "But you didn't know about that when you fucked me. It hadn't even been arranged yet. I'd only just thought of it. We weren't at such great risk you had to rush out almost before you'd finished coming. You're not the only one who knows the signs, and I know damned good and well when I'm being used. Got yourself some fine bragging rights, didn't you? Hundreds of people would love to brag they punched me and fucked me and wound up a free man at the end of it, but you're the only one who
can
. You must fucking love that."

Shemal opened his mouth, closed it again, too overcome by shame and regret to know what to say. They'd seen each other in that hallway, and Lesto had snuck him away… Everything had happened so fast, and felt right and overwhelming… He'd gotten scared and run away. He'd felt dangerously close to hooked and hadn't known what to do about it.

Lesto turned away, but not before Shemal saw the naked pain and disappointment on his face.

His stomach churned. Was that what happened to Lesto? People saw the Commander? The Duke? It made sense. People in Lesto's circles were always aware of those sorts of things in a disturbingly shark-like way.

He couldn't deny there'd been a bit of a dirty thrill behind punching and fucking High Commander Lesto Arseni. The memories that constantly tormented him, however, had nothing to do with
haha, got one over on the fucking High Commander
and everything to do with the way Lesto had felt beneath him, his wrists pinned by Shemal's hands, legs wrapped around Shemal as he'd begged breathlessly for more and moaned so sweetly as he came. The only thing Shemal had hated was not hearing Lesto say his name, and he'd been on the verge of giving it. That was when the panic had set in, and Shemal had fled before he said or did something stupid—well, stupider than fucking Lesto in the first place.

It had never occurred to him to
brag
about any of it. Even if he'd wanted to, who would believe him? But he hadn't wanted to—plenty of people had seen him punch Lesto, but gossip like that always faded off eventually. And the rest… the rest was his, a bittersweet memory that haunted his dreams and shadowed his every waking thought. It had never been something to discuss with others, let alone brag about.

Climbing to his feet, Shemal once again went hurrying after Lesto. Mother Ocean knew what he was going to do when he reached him.
If
he reached him—Lesto could move fast when he wanted. And that after days of kidnapping, endless walking, little food, and barely sleeping.

Shemal never wanted to see him at full strength. He doubted he'd survive.

And now was not the time to ponder how much fun that energy would be in a proper bed with all the time in the world to enjoy it. Lesto, well-rested and uninhibited… Mother Ocean, what would that be like? If their one crude and hasty encounter was enough to engrave itself on Shemal's mind, how devastating would it be to take his time? To learn and savor all that had been hinted at in their one encounter. To know more about the man who'd taken a hard punch with a laugh and apparently always tried to take care of Islanders.

To know the man who'd taken more of a risk, and offered more trust, than Shemal had ever realized?

By the time he managed to catch up to Lesto, he could barely breathe, and thinking was flat out impossible.

Lesto tried to jerk away as Shemal grabbed his arm and turned him around. "What in the Panth—"

Shemal kissed him, grabbing the back of Lesto's neck with his free hand to try to hold him in place.

The attempt failed miserably, but Lesto didn't walk off again, so maybe it wasn't a complete failure. "What do you think you're doing?"