Just as I'm about to pitch headfirst over the railing, a strong hand clamps down on my arm like a vice. I'm yanked back from the brink with enough force to make my shoulder scream in protest, my feet scrambling to find solid footing on the heaving deck.
I look up, blinking, stinging salt water from my eyes, to see Erik looming over me like a drowned rat. His silver hair is plastered to his skull in dark, snaky tendrils, his chiseled features twisted into a mask of grim determination. The howling wind snatches at his clothes, making the sodden fabric snap and flutter like a tattered banner.
"On your feet, brother," his voice barely audible over the shrieking gale. "We're not dead yet, and I am not about to let this bitch of a storm claim us now."
I nod, my jaw clenched so tight I feel my teeth grinding together. The taste of salt and blood is thick on my tongue, the copper-bright tang of it mingling with the acrid burn of bile at the back of my throat. My muscles scream in protest as I haul myself upright, every fiber aching with the strain of fighting against the storm's fury.
But Erik is right. We're not dead, not yet. And as long as there's a single spark of life left in my battered, beaten body, I won't let this fucking tempest win.
The storm rages on for what feels like a fucking eternity, each minute stretching out into an endless nightmare of howling wind and crashing waves. By the time the tides finally settle and the clouds break apart to reveal the sun, I'm so goddamn exhausted I can barely stand.
I collapse onto the deck, my chest heaving. My muscles are screaming, my lungs burning from fighting against the relentless onslaught of the sea.
This has been our reality ever since we set sail. Every day, a new battle against the Dark Tides threatens to drag us down into the Sea Witch's clutches. But Gideon and his ship have held firm, refusing to bow to the bitch's fury.
I glance up as the captain approaches, his face grim beneath his salt-stained beard. "Aye, mate," he growls, his voice rough with exhaustion. "We've been blown off course again, set adrift by that wretched hag's black magic. But never fear, I'll set us right."
"They are heading to Blood Reef," I choke out, my throat raw and aching. "That bastard Bloodbane."
Gideon pales for a moment, his weathered face going slack with shock. But he quickly rights himself, squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw. "Aye," he says, then turns on his heel and strides away, barking orders to his battered crew.
But even as he goes, I can feel the icy claws of despair sinking into my gut because Dani's not on Bloodbane's ship anymore, not even in this realm. I can feel it in my bones, the sickening certainty that she's been ripped away from me once again, dragged through some portal to God knows where.
And I have no clue what to do, how to get her back, or even if we should still chase after that traitorous prick Bloodbane.
Erik helps me to my feet, his legs unsteady beneath him. His silver eyes are as cold and hard as ever, his jaw set with grim determination. "You alright, brother?"
I nod, then stand on wobbly legs, the deck shifting beneath my feet. "Dani," I rasp out, my voice barely above a whisper. "She... she went through a portal. I felt it, felt her agony as it ripped through me like a blade. It was just like before when she was taken to Atheria."
Erik's eyes widen, a flicker of shock and dread passing over his stoic features. "Atheria?" he echoes, his voice tight with disbelief. "Again?"
I shake my head, my gut twisting with fear and frustration. "I don't know," I admit, the words bitter on my tongue. "This... this felt different, somehow. Like she was being pulled somewhere else, somewhere even further away."
Before Erik can respond, a familiar figure slinks into view. Izabelle's tight outfit clings to her curves, her dark hair hanging in wild, dripping tangles around her face.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to lunge at her, to wrap my hands around her slender throat and squeeze until her lying tongue turns black and her treacherous eyes bulge from their sockets.
I nearly did that when we boarded the ship and found her hiding among the crew. The only thing that stayed my hand was Gideon's intervention, his fierce insistence that we needed every able-bodied pirate we could get if we had a chance of weathering Bloodbane and his crew.
But now, with Dani gone and my heart shattered, I can feel the leash on my rage fraying with every passing second.
"The fuck do you want, you two-faced bitch?" I snarl.
Izabelle smirks, her full lips curving in a wicked, taunting smile. "Ooh, someone's got a fiery spirit!" she coos, her words as smooth as silk and just as deceptive. "Now,is that any way to address a fine lady such as meself? The Captain's requestin' the pleasure of your company, along with that charmin' companion of yours," her voice a compelling mix of arrogance and allure. "Best not be keepin' him waitin', my dears. Savvy?"
I step forward, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "You're no lady," I growl, my voice low and deadly. "You're a backstabbing cunt who sold out my mate because you're a jealous bitch and to save your own hide."
Izabelle's eyes flash with anger, her smug facade cracking momentarily. But she quickly regains her composure, tossing her head and letting out a throaty little laugh. "Psh, don't be givin' me that injured pride act, sailor'," she scoffs, her hand cutting through the air with a dismissive flourish. "You and I both know you'd have done the exact same thing if our roles were reversed, so let's not pretend otherwise, eh?"
I open my mouth to tell her exactly where she can shove her assumptions, but Erik cuts me off with a sharp look. "Enough," his voice cold and hard as steel. "We have no time for these petty squabbles. Izabelle, you said we were wanted in the captain's quarters?"
The pirate whore nods, her smirk widening. "Aye, that's the truth of it, me fine, strapping lad," she purrs, her gaze unabashedly roaming over Erik's chiseled physique, desire smoldering in her eyes. "The Captain's given his orders, and he wants to lay eyes on the both of you. Now."
"Go fuck yourself," I tell her.
Izabelle's smirk widens, her eyes glittering with malicious amusement. But she saunters away without another word, her hips swaying in a way that makes me want to retch.
We enter Gideon's quarters, freshly cleaned and dressed in dry clothes. The captain offers us rum, and I down two glasses before refilling a third. The burn of the alcohol is a welcome distraction from the icy knot of fear and rage in my gut.
