Chapter 10 Lyx
TEN
Lyx
“You’ve met Cypher.” Cav gestures to the tattooed woman standing above the captain’s quarters. “She’s serving double-duty right now, overseeing the crew and the ship.”
The ink on Cypher’s skin undulates as she watches them down her nose. Of all the looks Lyx has received today, only Cypher’s is openly hostile. It’s as if she has a sense about Lyx, like she knows the real reason Lyx is here.
Lyx’s scales prickle. There’s no way Cypher could know anything; she’s just suspicious of a siren. When Cypher keeps staring, Lyx lifts her brow in a challenge.
Cypher’s scowl deepens.
Cav places his hands on Lyx’s shoulders. “There’ll be plenty of time to make enemies later. Let’s not start with the second-in-command.”
As he turns her, his claws brush her collarbone. It sends her mind down a familiar path overgrown with memories that reach out and cling to her. It’s the same way Cav’s talons dug into her hips, scraping down her back and teasing her —
She shudders out of his grip, but it puts little space between them. The deck is crowded, filling her with a familiar unease when she’s forced to recognize that she’s surrounded by pirates.
A couple leans over the forecastle railing with devious grins.
The woman hooks her arm over the man’s shoulder and whispers in his ear.
Both of them keep their eyes on Lyx. It’s clear the two of them are some magical species; each of their skin is vibrant, but they have their own color schemes.
Seeds and leaves and berries dot their bodies, as if they’re both descended from different fruits.
“There go all my customers,” the man murmurs. His voice is so sultry it’s like he’s speaking against Lyx’s skin.
Cav picks up a wicker bowl and tosses some salted pork inside. “Lyx isn’t serving customers. She’s working with me.” He reaches for a block of cheese and lowers his voice to Lyx. “He’s Lace, she’s Briar. Never see one without the other.”
“In that case…” Briar rests her chin in one hand. “Maybe she wants to be my customer.”
“Are the stories true?” Lace asks, eyes sparkling. “They say sex with a siren is like fucking a black widow.”
Cav scoffs. “That’s enough from the welcoming committee.”
Hunger gnaws at Lyx’s stomach. Briar and Lace are brimming with discord, their natural magnetism something Lyx hasn’t felt since she was snatched from the other sirens. The two of them are a tempting invitation for trouble, but Cav maneuvers her toward the hatchway.
Briar reaches down to tousle his hair. “If you get bored with Cavvy, we’re always close by.”
Cav grabs her hand to pull it away, but the touch reminds him of something. Soberly, he meets her eyes, and his voice softens. “Roderick’s gone.”
The mood shifts. Briar’s eyes widen. Lace’s face swarms with disgust, nose wrinkling at some nasty memory. Almost imperceptibly, Briar squeezes Cav’s hand before she sets a smirk back onto her face. “I knew you were good for something.”
When Cav releases her, she and Lace dive into animated conversation while Cav and Lyx descend below deck.
The stairs are steep, opening into a tight corridor lined with doors on either side. Crew members mill about in stages of undress, leaning into the hallway to converse or argue. Cav carries the bowl through the narrow gaps and chews a piece of cinnamon bark between his teeth.
The scent smacks Lyx in the face. “Straight cinnamon?”
He smiles around it. “I like spicy.”
Her eyes roll, until she realizes they aren’t passing any barracks.
Everyone has their own rooms. When Cav offered his cabin, she’d thought he was exaggerating.
On all the ships she’s boarded, she’s never seen so much space.
Even in Tidus’s heyday, the crew slept in a shared room while he kept Lyx in his massive captain’s quarters.
“Heathen’s been working on it a long time.” Cav squeezes past her, hands ghosting over her hips. He holds a low-hanging rope out of the way. “Each room can only fit a bed. The walls are thin, but it’s better than nothing. At least, until we get a new convoy.”
“Isn’t that where you’re supposed to be?”
Dammit. Her teeth grit. The thought slipped out before she thought better of it. She’s not supposed to remember that; she’s not supposed to remember any details from the grotto.
Cav’s expression muddies into some strange mix of delight and disappointment. Lyx isn’t sure what that means, but all he says is, “If only,” before he pushes open the door at the end of the corridor.
This room is nestled into the bow, running parallel to the ship.
Sunlight shines through a round window on one wall and casts across the bed on the opposite side.
The floor space is limited, leaving most of Cav’s things strewn across his sheets or tucked into cabinets and the hanging desk on the wall.
The bed is half-made, the drawers beneath it closed haphazardly around paintbrushes, clay beads, and spools of thread.
Lyx tries to dull any curiosity in her voice. “Never pegged you as an artist.”
“I like to pick things up: crafts, hobbies.” He leaves the door open behind them and stuffs a skein of yarn back into place. “Keeps my mind busy. Gives my hands something to do.”
Lyx wanders toward another drawer and tugs on a loop of rope until an entire bundle emerges.
It’s different from the yarn, not scratchy and frayed like the lines used for sails and cargo.
This rope is smooth and black, mysterious enough to be intimidating.
When she tugs, the knot holding it in place slips.
The heat from Cav’s body spreads across her back. He’s close now, hovering over her shoulder until there’s an inch of space between them. His face hovers in her periphery. They’re alone, like last night on the dinghy. Like last night on the docks.
The air in the room crackles, like even the atmosphere forgets what it’s meant to do when it’s just the two of them. Lyx turns to face him. She braces against the rocking of the ship. When Cav reaches for the rope, she pulls it away.
His golden eyes flicker.
She doesn’t know why she provokes him. Maybe for chaos. Irritation. A little opportunity for revenge. Whatever the reason, she keeps the bundle behind her back, even when Cav leans toward her. Even when he reaches behind her, skimming his hand down her forearm to reach her fist.
She doesn’t give. “What’s it for?”
He keeps his eyes on her face, slipping his digits between hers to pry her fingers open one by one. “Play your cards right…” Once he has the rope again, he taps it on the underside of her chin. “You might find out.” Then he tosses it into a bag in the corner.
The room is suddenly stifling. She lifts her hair off her neck, but it does nothing to soothe her.
Cav leans back against the opposite wall. “We need to establish some rules. Before we start this…journey of ours.”
Hearing him speak about it makes her skin tight. She releases her hair and folds her arms across her chest. They might as well be negotiating a hostage situation rather than intercourse. Maybe a hostage situation would be easier.
Cav must sense it, too. He relaxes his shoulders, tail curling non-threateningly around his leg. “This’ll be easier if you act like you can tolerate me.”
“I’m tolerating enough already.”
“What would make you feel more cooperative?” Depths, he sounds earnest. “What sort of things do you want to try? What do you like?”
“Nothing you could give me.”
He exhales sharply, ruffling the hair across his forehead. “Fine. We need to choose a safeword. Something either of us can use if we want to stop at any time.”
Lyx shakes out the waves of her hair. “Nothing you do will surprise me enough for that.”
“You don’t even know what the rope is for.”
Her lips feel dry. She drags her tongue across them and ignores the way his gaze follows. “I can guess.”
“Yeah? Guess, then.” He stretches his arms overhead, then brings them across his chest to match hers. “I’d love to hear what it makes you think of.”
He looks more like a pirate than she’s ever seen him. Easy and unbothered, reclining with his foot against the wall. His knee tilts outward as if he’s making space for her.
So fucking nonchalant.
Her fingernails dig half-moons into her palm. She wants to upend that smirk on his face, to step between his legs and –
“Parley,” she finally snaps. “That’s the word. Are we done?”
He scrutinizes her for a long moment before he drops his foot back to the floor.
“Not quite. See, you can put on a show for everyone out there. Act like this agreement is testing you. Like it doesn’t turn you on…
” He wanders closer. Even when he’s looking up to meet her gaze, something about him engulfs her.
“But when it’s just us, I want the truth. ”
Her body thrums like a compass finding magnetic north. She refuses to look anywhere but his eyes. “I agreed to be an active participant. I’ll help you with your little project. I’ll fuck you.”
He sucks a breath through his teeth. “Careful…” It fans the flame in his chest. “Or I might start thinking you’re into me.”
She glances toward the open door, but it doesn’t concern him.
He isn’t threatened by the thought that anyone could pass by.
He acts like this is a game, just foreplay to something bigger.
That thread of chaos weaves inside her. She swallows it down, too proud to feel the heat.
If he’s not worried someone might overhear, then fine; she’ll use it to her advantage.
“You couldn’t even get out of your pants last time.” Her head tilts, unimpressed. “It should be easy to finish you off.”
His teeth flash in a smile that makes her toes curl. “Are we rewriting history?” He eases toward her, voice low as a chain dragged across the floor. “Because there are some other things I’d like to revise.”
Smoke drifts between his lips. That’s the only reason her gaze is drawn to his mouth, her eyelids suddenly heavy. The wisp outlines his jaw.
“You’re paying in pleasure, right? So let’s give it to you.”
Her body could melt right here, but then Cav turns away, dispersing the smoke and peeling off his oversized vest.
“If you don’t feel like telling me what you want, then we’ll have some trial and error.”
Now she can see his attire from last night. It’s bloody and ripped, but worst of all, the pants cling to his ass. The waistcoat molds to the muscles in his back as he undoes the buttons one by one.
“I’ll figure out what gets you hot. I’ll make you come. I’ll tailor this entire experiment to getting you off, and I’ll give you everything you want — except for me.”
It takes a moment too long for her to scoff. “I don’t want you.”
He strips off the waistcoat and reaches for the collar of his shirt. “Then you won’t miss out on anything.”
He tugs it overhead, exposing the bare scales of his back.
His skin glows molten between them, magma threatening to break through the crust of the earth.
Freed of the fabric, the spikes along his spine lift on end, trailing down between the dimples above his hips.
There are bandages wrapped around his torso, but these wraps don’t flatten his physique.
In fact, the binding seems to enunciate his chest, lifting his breasts until they sit perfectly in place.
Only now does Lyx realize he’s turned back to face her. That he can see everywhere her eyes go. Her face heats, and his smirk grows. “If you do change your mind about wanting me —”
“I won’t,” she grits.
“But if you do. If you want more. If you want me to give you everything…” His thick eyelashes dip as he watches her mouth.
Something inside her tightens. She tries to remind herself of her purpose; she is here to ruin Cav’s life and get Tidus what he wants.
That’s it. There’s nothing else. Yet when Cav leans closer, she remembers the feel of his lips, the drag of his teeth, the hot slide of his tongue.
She wants to see if it still feels the same.
She wants to bite him and lick the blood out of his mouth.
She wants to hurt him, and she wants to taste it.
But when her lips part beneath his, Cav tilts away. Just so. “You have to be honest. It has to be real.” He reaches for the shirt at the end of his bed. “Show me more than this facade, and I won’t hold anything back.”
Her throat is tight. “Is this revenge –” She tries to clear it. “Because I didn’t give you everything last time?”
He hums. “Consider it an exchange of vulnerability.”
Lyx refuses to give in. She doesn’t cave to the tingling in her fingers or the twinge between her legs. She feels nothing; she assures herself of that. “That’s never going to happen.”
“We’ll see, partner.” Cav scoops up his satchel from the corner and slings it over his shoulder. “Be back in three days.”