Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Calista
The skiff cuts through the cold mist as it glides along the calm ocean. The only sound is the steady rhythm of Valther's paddles breaking the surface.
My heart is beating frantically. I keep my eyes locked on the dark mass bobbing in the light waves, terrified I’m going to lose sight of him. The sun has fully set and the moon is nothing but a sliver over our heads, barely lighting our way.
“Be careful, Captain!” Edrik shouts from the ship behind us.
I’m not worried about myself right now, only the figure in the water. I can’t take my eyes off him. I’m staring at him, completely enthralled. Like my heart will stop if I can’t get to him in time.
It’s the strangest feeling and it gets stronger with every inch we get closer to the man. It feels as if I’ve been heading toward this exact moment my whole life. Like I just found something I didn’t know I’d lost.
My whole body is on edge with impatience as we glide closer.
“Hurry,” I snap at Valther. “Put some strength into it, man.”
He picks up the pace, paddling harder. It doesn’t do anything to stem the need to get to him.
Something’s up…
This is not normal.
I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by men and not one of them has ever made me feel a pull like this. So why is this man, half-dead and unconscious, pulling these sudden, intense feelings out of me?
It may be a trap.
I’ve heard all of the old stories. Every sailor has.
The hungry sirens of the deep who call to you in the dark—urging you forward with a feeling of irresistible need and promises of overwhelming beauty—and by the time you understand what’s happening, you're already in the water with something cold and ancient’s hands around your throat.
This could be that. A hungry siren playing games with my mind, tricking me with an irresistible allure and feelings of inevitability.
It may be something dangerous.
But I’m going anyway. That’s how strong the pull is. That’s how powerful it’s seizing my soul.
I can’t imagine turning around right now. I can’t even think about leaving him on the open sea. I’ll take my chances that I’ll be pulled into the dark waters and devoured by a siren. At least, I’ll have this warm, wonderful feeling to keep me content in my final seconds.
A gentle wave turns him just a little as we get closer and I suck in a breath when I see his still face. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The sight of it stuns me to my core.
I’ve navigated violent storms that have made grown men weep and call for their mothers.
I’ve jumped between giant livid men—knives in their hands, mead on their breaths—and stopped them from killing each other.
I’ve faced down bloodthirsty Sea Wraiths in the dark with nothing but my emerald sword in my hand and an unbreakable fierceness in my heart.
I’ve done all that… And I’ve never felt so helpless as I do right now, looking at this man’s still face.
I want to save him. I want to put myself between him and whoever did this to him. I want to hold him until the cold leaves his body and his eyes slowly open. I want it so badly it frightens me.
“His shoulder is mangled,” Valther says. I’m so focused on the man in the water that I forgot he was behind me. I nearly jump out of my skin, I’m so startled.
“Yes,” I whisper, still keeping my eyes on him. “He’s been through something terrible.”
As we get closer, I see the extent of his gruesome injuries and tears wet my eyes.
His arm is pinned to a branch, caught where the thick branch meets the trunk of the tree.
He must have fallen from a tremendous height and the force yanked his shoulder into an unnatural angle.
It appears to be wrenched out of the socket.
It’s not the only injury on him either. He’s bruised and bloodied, and I see several deep gashes and open wounds on his body.
“Reckon he fell off the waterfall?” Valther asks.
“Whatever happened to him,” I answer, “it messed him up good.”
Finally, the boat pulls up beside him.
“Careful, Captain,” Valther warns as I reach over. He grabs the back of my leather vest, holding onto me with his thick fist.
“I got you,” I whisper as I take the man’s loose arm. I’m really hoping he’ll open his eyes, but he doesn’t.
He’s really pinned to that tree trunk and I have to swing my leg over the boat and push the tree away as I try to wrench him loose. His face dips under the freezing cold water and he still doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Help me pull him up,” I order Valther when I finally get him free.
He reaches over the boat and we manage to pull his limp naked body into the skiff.
I fall back onto the wooden bench, staring at him in awe. He’s stunning. He’s the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen.
His body is white with cold, his chest barely moving with each weak, shallow breath.
His eyes are shut, but it gives his beautiful face an ancient, ethereal look, like a timeless marble statue come to life.
I feel almost a sense of recognition as I look at him.
Like recognizing a face I’ve never seen before. I don’t know what to make of that.
“He’s a wolf shifter,” Valther says with a sneer. “No human can survive these wounds.”
Tears fill my eyes when I see the damage he’s taken. There are several deep knife wounds in his back, one in his chest, and a nasty gaping hole in his side where a spear probably tore through him.
“Let’s throw him back over before he wakes up and kills us all.”
Something fierce and protective rises in my chest. I grit my teeth as I glare at Valther. “We will do no such thing. Paddle back to the ship. Quickly.”
“Yes, Captain,” he murmurs and then starts paddling fast.
I pull the man’s head onto my lap, cupping his cold cheeks, and staring at him as we go. My eyes never leave his still face and white lips.
I think about an old story my mother once told me when she was alive of a princess who was unconscious under a spell and was awoken by the kiss of a prince. I look at those pale lips and wonder if it would work in reverse, although I am no princess.
And I’m not about to kiss him with Valther watching…
“You’re safe now,” I whisper loud enough for only him to hear. “I won’t let you go. You’re with me now. I’ll take care of you.”
I wrap my arms around his cold stiff body, trying to warm him, but it’s not enough. I watch his chest as it barely rises with each slow inhale. It’s like every breath may be his last.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, gripping his hand, fighting back tears. “Not when you just got here.”
The skiff bumps into the ship and one of the crew tosses the rope ladder down. I don’t know how we’re going to get him up there without hurting him even more. He’s big and heavy and all dead weight.
“Valther,” I say with a crack in my voice. “Help him, please.”
He looks at the emotion on my face and nods. “I got him, Captain.”
The giant man heaves him onto his broad shoulders. “You first, Captain,” Valther says.
I hurry up the rope ladder, watching as Valther struggles to carry him up behind me.
My heart is in my throat, terrified he’s going to be dropped and fall back down into the cold dark water.
This time, he won’t have a floating tree to keep his head above the surface.
He may just sink all the way down to the bottom, never to be seen again, except in my dreams and nightmares.
“Careful,” I say as I swing my leg onto the ship, keeping my worried eyes on them.
But Valther is as strong as his mouth is crude, and true to his word, he gets him onto my ship.
“Get the skiff, Edrik,” I order as Valther climbs over the rail.
Edrik stares at the man in stunned silence as Valther readjusts the weight, grabbing the unconscious wolf shifter’s good arm and one of his legs.
His broken arm hangs at an unnatural angle and his other leg falls free.
He’s turned to the side, hanging spread-eagled, his tight stomach muscles clenching, and his naked cock hanging free.
My cheeks blush as I get a glimpse of it, but I quickly turn away.
“Edrik,” I snap. “The skiff. Now.”
He takes one last quick look and then disappears over the edge to secure the skiff. I know he’s never seen a wolf shifter before and he’s curious. I’ve never seen one either to be honest.
“Four deepjaw and one wet dog,” Petr says with a laugh as the whole crew gathers around. Even Zephan, the cook who never comes out of his kitchen, is on the deck watching. “Dats one helluva haul for a day.”
My jaw tightens. I don’t like Petr calling him a wet dog.
“Gods,” Petr says, laughing as he approaches the shifter still hanging from Valther’s shoulders. He’s staring right at his naked member. “Look at dat huge fat sea slug. I’s never seen one so big.”
He pokes it and the guys laugh.
“It’s prolly his wolf’s tail,” he says, smacking it lightly.
I rush over and smack his hand as hard as I can. He winces and looks at me in shock.
“Go help Edrik if you want to make jokes,” I snap.
He just holds his hand and stares at me in confusion.
“Now,” I shout, “before I grab you by your hair and launch you over the side!”
With that, he scurries over, disappearing from sight. He’s smarter than he looks.
“Bring him to my quarters,” I snap at Valther. “Lay him on my bed. Everyone else get to work. Zephan, come with me.”
Zephan is a small, round man who smells like woodsmoke and fish guts.
He’s the cook and doubles as a medic whenever we need him.
The man hardly ever leaves his kitchen voluntarily and grumbles the entire time when he does, but his hands are the steadiest on the ship whether he's deboning a deepjaw or stitching a wound closed, the man doesn't shake.
He follows us up to my room, standing in the doorway as Valther lowers the shifter onto my bed.
“I should stay here for your protection, Captain,” he says, backing away. “In case he wakes up.”
“No,” I say, pointing to the door. “I’ll be fine.”
This man would never hurt me. I know it in my soul. I don’t know how I know it, but I know it like my lungs know to breathe. I’m not sure if it’s instinct or fate or intuition or destiny, but I know.
I can tell that Valther doesn’t like it, but he leaves nonetheless.
“Zephan,” I say as I pull the blanket over the shifter’s cold stiff body. The wounds are so gruesome and horrific up close. I try not to look at them as I cover him up. They’re barely bleeding, which I’m not sure is a good sign or not.
“Yes, Captain,” he says as he steps into the room. I can tell he’s uncomfortable being here, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m his superior, because I’m a woman, or if he’s just only comfortable in his small, cramped kitchen.
“Can you help him?”
He shrugs. “He won’t last the night by the looks of him. I’d throw him overboard if I were you.”
“What kind of medic are you?” I hiss.
He shrugs again. “The kind that specializes in food and doesn’t waste his time on dying dogs.”
“Help him,” I order in a sharp tone. “That’s an order.”
He reluctantly shuffles over and surveys the man. “His body will help him more than I can. These dogs are magical when it comes to healing, although I’ve never seen one this bad.”
“He’s a wolf shifter, not a dog. What can you do?”
“His natural healing will take care of those nasty wounds in a few days. If he don’t die first.”
I close my eyes and whisper a prayer to the gods in Ulissa, hoping that doesn’t happen.
“He’ll need help with that shoulder, though,” Zephan says. “It’s going to heal as crooked as a Nesalisse merchant.”
“What can we do?” I ask, perking up with eagerness to do something to help.
He grunts as he thinks about it, rubbing his chin. I hope he knows what he’s doing. This man is grumpy as a malgrath in heat and his apron is covered in years of food stains, but he’s all I got.
“We’ll have to set his arm,” he says.
Zephan explains the plan and then I turn the shifter’s body, holding him in place as Zephan grabs his mangled arm.
“It’s a good thing he’s asleep because this is going to hurt worse than swallowing a fishhook sideways.”
“Will he wake up?” I feel a little thrill of excitement at the possibility.
“If he don’t wake up to this,” Zephan says. “He ain’t waking up for a while.”
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep steadying breath. “Let’s do it.”
We count down and then Zephan yanks his arm out with a grunt, ripping it from the socket. His face twists back up in concentration as he places it back in at the right angle.
The shifter remains motionless throughout the entire horrific ordeal and that makes my spirits sink. Maybe he won’t recover…
No. I can’t think like that. He’ll be fine. I have to believe that.
“That may do it,” Zephan says as we place him back down on the bed.
I cover him with the sheets again, willing some color into those cold pale lips.
“But I still say we should toss him back into the ocean. If he don’t die in your bed, a shifter like this will eat up half my stores of food in no time. ”
“He’s staying here,” I say, keeping my eyes on the man’s gorgeous face. “I’ll call you if I need you for something else.”
Zephan leaves without a word.
I drop to my knees beside my bed and grip his cold hand, willing him to wake up. I just want to see his eyes. I want to see more strength in his chest as he takes deeper breaths. I want to see some kind of—any kind of—sign of life.
Briallen appears in the doorway a few moments later with a roll of bandages. “I thought this might help.”
“Come in,” I say, waving her over.
She closes the door behind her and we get to work, wrapping up his wounds.
“What do you think happened to him?” she asks.
“Whatever it was, he barely escaped with his life.”
I wish I were there with him, helping to fight whatever hurt him. Maybe we both wouldn’t have survived, but at least we would have faced it together.
“He’s handsome for a wolf shifter,” Briallen says when we’re done.
“Yeah,” I whisper, gripping his hand, willing my warmth to travel into his body. “He’s not so bad.”
“Do you want to take my bed tonight?” she asks.
I shake my head and look at her sadly. “I’m going to stay here with him.”
“Okay,” she says, backing away toward the door. She looks at me curiously. I know how strange it must be to see her tough ruthless Captain on her knees with tears in her eyes, clinging to a stranger’s hand. It’s strange for me too.
I don’t understand any of this.
All I know is that I’m not leaving his side.
Ever.