Tink in his clothes, on his bed…Fuck. Furious or not, she was a sight to behold. He shook himself. “Aye,mytreasure.” He’d stolen it, so that made it his. “Such a valuable jewel could have gotten quite a sum. I might be willing to ease some of your debt…” He trailed his pointer finger along his jaw. “…if you were to hand over whatever you got in exchange.”
She crossed her arms and turned away from him.Why?It wasn’t a bad offer.
“Their trust,” she said at last.
“And…?” He waved his hand for her to continue.
“And what? They’d never dealt with a pixie. Said I could earn their trust if I returned their missing treasure.”
He blinked at her. No way had she given it back for nothing. “You lie.”
She stood with a huff. “I do not!”
“Bloody hell, woman. What could you possibly need their trust so badly for that you’d give away a fortune?”
She pursed her lips and turned away again. “Not your business.”
A treasure for trust? Ridiculous. “Got enough gold selling your dust, eh?”
Her wings twitched, but she refused to answer.
When the silence stretched, he realized she wasn’t going to. With a sigh, he pushed off his desk and adjusted his breeches. It was going to be a long voyage to the merfolk with her on the ship and in his bed. No matter that it was just a few days. He scrubbed his hand down his face.
Being stuck in close quarters with her might be the worst curse of all.
Chapter 8
Tink
The ship rocked, nearly tossing Tink from the bed. Thunder cracked. Lightning flashed outside the windows. Tink curled in on herself, begging every holy, revered elder the pixies had to keep the little food she’d eaten in her stomach. Hook wasn’t here. She hadn’t seen the irritatingly handsome pirate since she’d fallen asleep the night before last…handcuffed to his bed.
He’d slept, or played at sleep, in the window seat across the room—far from the reach of her short chain. When she’d awoken, he was gone. Though a day and a night passed, he didn’t return. Where, or if, he slept, she could only guess.
Just like so many other terrible humans, he’d asked for her dust. Well, too bad for him. And he thought she’d made a fortune selling it? Hah! What a joke. Fortune indeed. Wouldn’t that be lovely? She had sold some of it, what little she had left after saving Lily from Blackbeard. A bit here and there for food and supplies, to buy passage to see the merfolk, but not enough to generate any real wealth.
As for creating more…she could have at home. It had never been a problem there. But here, her wings just wouldn’t do it, and now they were plumb out of dust.
With a sigh, she wiggled down into the inviting sheets. It was the best rest she’d had in months. Not that she’d ever admit it. The comfortable bed cradled her far better than the stiff cot in her treehouse and many times better than the forest floor and other unsavory places she’d slept before she found her temporary home.
The storms came during the second night, tossing the ship as she plowed on toward the merfolk’s Azure Lagoon. Tink slept little since then, though she tried. Food and water had been more of a challenge. Everything she took down wanted to crawl back up her throat.
She screeched as another wave rocked the ship and pulled the sheets over her head with her free hand. Wood cracked in response, a sound like the ship being torn apart.
“Stop screaming like a wounded harpy!”
She gasped and jerked the sheets down. Hook loomed in the doorway, strong and steady despite the rocking of the ship in the storm. But his expression was anything but calm—thin lips, stiff jaw, hard gaze. He was the spitting image of the fierce pirate rumors claimed him to be. Dark hair clung to his face while rivulets of water streamed to the floor. If he’d been wearing his hat, it was long gone.
Another swell made her stomach drop and slosh. Tink clapped her hands over her mouth. Durin’s beard, she couldn’t get sick in front of him. She wouldn’t.
Hook’s harsh expression vanished, smoothing out into something like pity. “This is your bloody fault.” He slammed the door behind him and approached her. “Cursing the sea against me.” Though the ship bucked, he walked with practiced ease.
“I didn’t—” She braced herself as another swell rolled the ship. Ugh, she’d get nowhere arguing with him. “Are we almost there?”
“Yes.”
She nearly cried with relief. Surely the merfolk’s curse wouldn’t call a storm down on their own land.
“My men think you’re torturing yourself. Say it’s bad luck to have a screaming woman on board.” He stood right in front of her now, rain-soaked clothing dripping onto the elaborate rug.
