A Reckless Indulgence (Tides of Pleasure #1)

Chapter 1 Cav

ONE

Cav

Captain Heathen is going to kill him, but at least he’ll leave a pretty corpse.

That’s what Cav tells himself as he rows toward the Silver Spoon, his dragon scales flattening against the wind.

From his dinghy, the luxurious restaurant ship looks impressive, a wooden double-decker covered in carvings and candles flickering against the night.

The Spoon’s path of travel is a meandering circle around the wealthiest island, reminding the rest of the archipelago where the elite reside.

Cav churns the oars and hisses when his shoulder twinges. That old wound seems to flare up when he’s doing something he shouldn’t. Cypher would say that’s a sign, but Cypher says a lot of shit, like —

Cav’s fingers tighten around the oars. No distractions. Either he catches the Spoon before it passes again, or he has to row all the way back to shore…and he’s not leaving without something to show for it.

As he travels, he faces the smaller island where he cast off. How poetic that he’s forced to stare at the reminder of where he’s supposed to be. Over the tops of the palm trees, he can barely make out the crow’s nest of the Indulgence bobbing on the sea.

Cav’s captain will be pissed once word spreads about what he’s done, but Cav’s not yet sure what that’ll be.

All he knows is he’s not letting this loose end slip away.

He ties his hair up and blows auburn bangs out of his face.

Fuck it. He works better without a plan.

Once he gets an idea in his mind, his jittery body pays the price until he turns that thought into action.

Hyperactive, Cypher describes it. Deficit of attention. Lack of —

Cav’s sharpened teeth grit. Focus. He has to focus. The Spoon is here.

The large ship cruises by and casts him further in shadow. Out here, his tiny dinghy is nearly invisible; the rich patrons of the Spoon don’t notice him bracing on the edge of his boat. When the Spoon’s rope ladder passes, he leaps and grunts as his body knocks against the hull before he climbs.

Piano music trickles from the Spoon’s open windows, muffled by the clatter of dishware and conversation.

Cav clings to the top of the ladder and peers through the slats in the railing.

Guards lean against the stern of the ship, rolling cigarettes and grumbling in a cloud of smoke.

The rest of the deck is enclosed, except for the grand entryway that stretches before Cav.

It’s certainly eye-catching, with dozens of lanterns hovering over the ornate host stand… and it’s the only way in or out.

Cav cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of the lavish dining room inside it. The dim lighting adds to the ambience, highlighting flashes of jewelry in candlelight. Waiters weave between tables, presenting meals and bottles that would cost Cav a month’s wages.

He scrapes his muddy heel against the ladder, ignoring the hem of his breeches clinging to knees. His entire ensemble is too tight, but it’s all he could find in a pinch. If nothing else, it complements the fiery hues of his scales. He’ll blend in as long as no one looks too closely.

Ignoring the protests of his shirt, Cav pulls himself over the railing with a distinct ripping sound.

“Shit.”

A breeze teases the snag in his waistcoat, but he can’t stop for it. It’ll have to hold until he’s finished. Maybe he can distract the staff with something else…

He reaches for his top button to expose his cleavage before he thinks better of it. This isn’t the Indulgence; people in these places can be bizarre about that sort of thing. Best not to draw attention to himself.

With a sigh, he positions his hand over the rip and strolls through the entryway.

The host lifts his head, eyes darting to the wet footprints Cav has left across the floor.

Cav blocks them from view, sweeping his tail through the tracks and leaning against the host stand.

“Good evening.” He drapes on his most charismatic smile, tucking his bangs behind his horns and keeping his shoulders hunched to disguise his chest. “I took a bit of a self-guided tour when we set sail, and I’m afraid I got separated from my companion. ”

The host smiles mildly. “What’s the name?”

Cav fights not to clench his jaw. “Roderick.”

While the host checks the reservation list, Cav squints toward the tables behind him. It’s like the Spoon wants their guests to be unidentifiable. Even if the technology from the continents doesn’t function out here, surely this luxury diner can provide more than a couple of candles per table.

It’s not until Cav’s second sweep that he catches the bastard. Roderick sits at the furthest row of tables with a ring on every pale finger, his eyes outlined in kohl and a smug grin on his face.

Asshole.

The host clears his throat. “I’m afraid the Roderick reservation is for a party of two.”

“Exactly.” Cav maintains his smile. “I’ll just —”

“And both members are already seated.”

Cav flexes his fingers. There’s no need to panic. You’re supposed to be rich. Think rich. Summoning a chuckle, he knocks on the host stand with a playful lift of his brows. “He must have made a friend when we boarded. I’ll make sure we each have a chair.”

The host sputters, but Cav is already slipping away into the dining room.

Lowering his head, he snakes between floral arrangements and serving trays.

He rounds on the last row of tables, and Roderick is still oblivious, trailing hungry eyes over his companion.

It’s no surprise Roderick enticed some unsuspecting ingénue to join him for dinner.

Poor girl. She has no idea what she’s gotten into.

Cav knows he shouldn’t say anything yet. He should play it cool, he should sit at the table, but the fire inside him burns up his better judgment. He opens his mouth to call out —

But something stops him. He can only make out the woman’s back, but that’s enough to make his mind grind to a halt.

Her body is as plump and juicy as peeled lychee, her luxuriously wet hair piled atop her head.

Her dress clings to her curves, styled to look like she’s dripping in pearls and absolutely nothing else.

Heat surges up Cav’s throat, and he swallows to stifle the draconic ember in his chest. He shouldn’t stare. He’s here to keep an eye on Roderick, and despite what a disappointing subject that is, he has a job to do.

A waiter squeezes past, setting a charcuterie board and drinks on Roderick’s table.

Roderick doesn’t so much as glance his way, gesturing instead to the view out the window.

The woman follows the motion, but Cav doesn’t.

He watches Roderick flip back the gem on one of his rings and tilt it over the woman’s glass, dispensing something powdery.

Then, Roderick lifts his own drink in a toast.

Cav digs his claws into an empty chair beside him and drags it across the aisle until it’s right next to Roderick.

The man recoils at the instruction, but his eyes sharpen when he recognizes Cav.

“Ordered for me already?” Cav asks sweetly, snatching the woman’s drink and lifting it toward Roderick in mock-salute. “You know I hate when you don’t ask.”

Roderick’s slimy smile stays in place. “I’m entertaining a guest.”

Cav reaches past Roderick to dump the woman’s drink into a plant. “Then they’ll have to forgive me.”

Around them, the buzz of conversation falters. Roderick shifts in his seat, but Cav sinks back in his chair, plucking the lemon wedge from Roderick’s drink into his mouth.

Roderick straightens his ascot. “I paid for my visit to your ship.” He lowers his voice. “In full.”

“I’m not here about your payment,” Cav spits, dragging his finger inside the woman’s glass. When he holds his claw to the light, it sparkles with grainy dregs. “I’m here about what you tried to do during your visit. What you tried to do here.”

“Do you mind?” Over Cav’s shoulder, the woman grows impatient. “You’re interrupting our evening.”

She doesn’t realize the danger she’s in, but Cav does. He refuses to look away from Roderick. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.”

“Well, undo it.”

That voice stirs a chord deep inside Cav. It’s hauntingly familiar, a tune he hasn’t heard in so long, but one he’s never forgotten. It reverberates inside him, singing through his veins when he turns to face the music.

Everything about Lyx is cool, like splashing into water on the longest day of summer.

Strands of soft pinks and purples color her hair like a fuchsia flower.

Her milky blue skin glows nearly translucent before it darkens at her hips.

Purple scars wind around her arms and chest in thin ropes across her skin.

She looks exactly as he remembers. She is the siren who haunts his dreams, even if the hollows under her eyes are darker. Her brows knit tighter. Her scowl deeper, like it’s daring a smile to cross her face.

There’s no recognition for him in her eyes; she’s as detached as if she were looking at a stain on the tablecloth.

Cav’s heart twinges. He can’t blame her. The last time she saw him, he was so weak he was hardly recognizable, battered by waves and sun. She doesn’t remember the two of them in her grotto. Her frustration butting up against his lazy smile, her hands roaming his skin, her gasps against his mouth…

That’s what does it. As if the memories are playing across Cav’s face, Lyx’s expression changes. She does remember him. Her fingers curl into the tablecloth, pupils blowing wide before they shrink to slits of unadulterated hate.

“You.”