He slowly pulled away from her. Male satisfaction seeped through his blood at her warm, flushed cheeks, the way the ample swell of her chest rose and fell with gasping breaths.
Fuck, he needed to not think about her chest, or else she’d find out just how much he wanted to toss his own words into the trash and lose himself in her.
He pushed her to her feet, holding her hips as she shakily righted herself. He stood, bending and planting a gentle kiss to her forehead.
She shivered.
“Go shower and get dressed for bed,” he murmured. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I promise.”
She swallowed and headed into her bathing chamber. She paused on the threshold, whirling back to face him. “Sebastian?”
“Yes, Goldie?”
She smiled hesitantly. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“You never have to ask again. As long as you need me, I’ll stay.”
As her smile turned shy and wistful, as she disappeared into her bathing chamber, he shot a prayer up to any god who might be listening that this would last.
Chapter 55
“Port ahead!”
Quentin blinked against the bright sunlight, licking his chapped lips. He cracked his neck, trying to ignore the way the ropes around his skin burned. Delaynie tipped up her chin, shoulder brushing his as she tried to see over the ship’s high railing.
They’d been at sea for two long days. And every moment of it, besides a few escorted trips to the privy, had been spent tied to this main staff. They were, thankfully, mostly shielded from the worst of the sun, but Delaynie’s pale skin was still tinged pink.
Quentin was sure this ship had a brig. But keeping the two of them, with their red hair and freckled skin, on the deck was likely just another one of the pirates’ sick games.
The few times they were untied and led below deck was as terrifying for Quentin as the last. The crew took them one at a time, separating him from Delaynie. The first time, he’d thrashed and snarled until Delaynie pinned him with a stare that told him this wasn’t worth the fight.
He fuckinghatedit. But he’d obeyed, body tense like an adder as she was led away from him.
He didn’t relax until she emerged a few minutes later, looking relatively untouched.
Quentin guessed that shit-head captain had given orders not to lay a hand on either of them until they made port. He couldn’t imagine why, but it was the only thing that made sense. He knew men, knew the way they thought. A beautiful woman on board was like a siren’s temptation.
Then again, there were other women aboard this ship. In fact, a good portion of the crew were women, and from the sounds he heard late at night, they had no qualms consorting with their crew mates.
The blast of a horn tore through the clear sky. He took a swig from the water skin they’d been given, his bindings pulling taut.
He handed it to Delaynie when he was done. Her fingers brushed his, sparks jumping up his spine. She gave him a tentative smile, worry lining her pale eyes, and she took a deep drink.
Yeah. He could understand that. He felt the same worry.
These pirates might have rescued them, might have kept them alive, but that didn’t mean this luck of theirs would hold forever. If they could even call itluck.
The horn blared again. Rough hands grabbed Quentin’s arms, undoing his bindings and pulling him to his feet.
They could now see over the ship’s railing, giving them their first glimpse at the Kizar Islands and its capital port, Tenevra.
Kizar was a chain of three islands, with Tenevra tucked into a wide bay in the largest of them. The colors of the island were rich and vibrant: crystalline blue waters, pearly white beaches, tropical trees and plants lining the coast. Great mountains wreathed in fog rose out of the jungle, watchful guardians over the seafaring people below.
Quentin stifled his grumble. This place justhadto be beautiful, didn’t it?
“Ah, what a sight.” A hand clasped Quentin’s shoulder, the smarmy voice slipping between him and Delaynie. Darius drew an exaggerated breath. “There’s nothing like sailing into the home port. Can’t you feel it?” Darius’s grip on Quentin’s shoulder tightened. “The excitement. The hunger. Tenevra will chew the both of you up and spit you out, and I can’twaitto watch.”
A muscle ticked in Quentin’s jaw, and he shrugged off Darius’s hand. “Your threats are getting old. And, somehow, increasingly less creative.”
