Chapter 7 #2
Such thoughts, while perhaps a touch morbidly satisfying, were hardly a lasting distraction. Which left Calya with Eunny’s vial of last resort. The foul motion sickness remedy had been a constant companion in Calya’s pocket. A “just in case” for when the most desperate of times were upon her.
She withdrew the vial from her cloak pocket and held it up in front of her face. The slow sloshing of the thick, sticky liquid proved to be especially unappetizing to look at. Her fingers wrapped around the narrow flask, hiding it from view and her easily susceptible stomach.
Calya had taken that kind of anti-nausea draught only once before.
It would ease her current woes, at the expense of consciousness.
Taking it this late into the trip, even with the delay the weather had caused, she’d be lethargic to the point of uselessness for at least another day upon arriving at the Landing.
She couldn’t afford to be so hindered. If Brint was using the remoteness of Desmond’s Landing to hide his attempts to worm his way back on the Avenor Guard board, she had to be ready to take up the hunt the moment they landed.
Giving Brint fucking Avenor, with his obnoxiously effective charm and his underhanded ways, a head start on any sort of coverup was asking for failure.
Calya would eat glass before she willingly let him thwart her again. Would sit up there in the deckhouse, miserable and cold, stomach empty and twisted upon itself. Would court dehydration and death before she let another mediocre man go unchallenged in trying to wrest HNE from her.
The door leading to the ship’s salon opened, and Eunny strolled out. Her gaze immediately went to Calya, a sympathetic smile forming on her lips. “Thought you might be up here.”
“As if I’d be anywhere else,” she groaned. “No promises I won’t vomit on you.”
Eunny kept Calya’s bucket on the bench between them as security before she took a seat, indicating the vial still clutched between Calya’s fingers with a jerk of her chin. “Before you go the extreme route, I have a proposition for you that doesn’t include being in a coma for days.”
“I’m listening.” If nothing else, Eunny was providing a momentary distraction.
Eunny dug in her pocket, holding up a slender glass bottle blown in the shape of a feminine body.
A detailed one, with the suggestion of hands pressed over her mound.
Generous curves, erect nipples, head tipped back so the delicate lines of her hair cascaded down her back, creating enough texture so one could easily grip the bottle.
The figure’s head faced up, mouth shaped to form the opening for the cork stopper.
The design was distinctive, and the deckled paper label wrapped around the glass even more so.
It bore the flourished script of House Oleander, a well-known apothecary in Graelynd’s capital whose wares catered to intimate pleasures.
Erotic enhancements—that was what the line of aphrodisiacs like the one Eunny currently held was called.
Calya knew of it, though she’d never experimented with the one offered to her now.
The glass was a dark ruby red, the most potent the company offered.
The highest of quality, and with a price to match.
“You’re traveling with a Scarlett Kiss?” Calya said.
“What can I say, I like to be prepared.” Eunny grinned and gave the bottle a gentle shake. The liquid swirled freely within the glass, golden shimmers flaring in reminder that it was a magic-laced potion. Not merely a sweet-scented contraceptive, but the promise of a good time.
A very good time. After all, it was a product from House Oleander; quality was assured.
A Scarlett Kiss would take away her nausea.
In a sense. Eunny wasn’t wrong on that part.
But rather than simply resolving her problem, the philter would replace it with a different set of feelings.
Urges. Much more pleasant, to be sure, but also equally demanding in their own way.
Inescapable, only instead of queasiness she’d be consumed with hunger.
Calya gave Eunny a suspicious look. “You don’t need it?”
Eunny scoffed. “It was going to be for Nev. This—” She flapped her wrist to indicate the rough sea. “I mean, I’m not as affected as you, but getting tossed into the wall every other wave isn’t exactly conducive to my rest. Might as well do something else with the time if I’m going to be awake.”
“Ollas isn’t seasick?”
“Hardly.” Eunny shook her head. “Says it feels like being rocked to sleep.”
Calya fought down a fresh bout of nausea at the notion of rocking.
“What do you say?” Eunny asked. “This dose should last through tomorrow. At least get you to calmer water.”
With some quick maths, Calya confirmed her assessment.
The wares from House Oleander were fast-acting, the effects kicking in after several minutes at most. Given her empty stomach, it might happen even faster, with more intensity.
Which would be a nice change of pace after a day spent clutching a bucket.
Though, for the numbers to matter, there was a missing variable to address.
“Does that come with an invitation?”
“Ha,” Eunny said dryly. “Normally, I’d be game to try anything once, but you’re like my baby sister, and we don’t do that here. Find your own.”
“Where?” Calya whined.
“What kind of an understanding did you come to with that ranger?” Eunny asked.
Lowe. If she were to ask him, what would he say?
He hadn’t exactly complained about their kiss.
She might’ve instigated, but his response, the way his blunt fingers had gripped her chin and raised her lips for him…
she’d ended up being the one surprised. She didn’t usually care about that particular act.
Kissing. Eh. Calya saw it more as a pleasantry, a pretense of civility before devolving into more enjoyable, carnal endeavors.
Instead of freezing her ass off up here, what would it be like to be warm in his bed, surrounded by the scent of leather and salt and, inexplicably, the wind? To taste his kiss again?
Calya dismissed the errant thought. Lowe wasn’t here.
“Not that kind,” she said, a sulky edge to her voice. “I think he’s been avoiding me. At least, he was before I shackled myself to the sick-bench.”
Eunny pursed her lips. “Boo. Okay, what about the AG guy you’re friendly with?”
“Lieutenant Orren?”
She snapped her fingers. “That one. Saw him down in the salon.”
Orren. He was conventionally handsome, if burlier than Calya’s personal preference.
She liked a slightly leaner physique, nicely muscled shoulders, toned rather than so built up that she saw only a hunk of meat.
But of her limited options on board, he was the most appealing candidate. Of those possibly available, anyway.
Besides, if Orren did a passable job at getting her through the worst of the storm, poor boy would be all tuckered out after.
Leaving Calya free to have a look through his cabin without distraction.
She liked the lieutenant well enough, but he was still Avenor Guard.
She’d been the one to insist on his assignment to her security detail, but who knew what orders he’d been given? She intended to find out.
“Good enough for me.” Calya plucked the glass bottle from Eunny’s hand.
The older woman went with her so far as the ship’s salon. She gave Calya a kick in the butt, murmuring, “Go get him!” under her breath before heading off in the direction of her cabin.
Down in the salon, the rocking of the ship felt worse. A group of Avenor Guardsmen, Orren amongst them, sat at a table in the back corner. Objectively not a large distance, but in her current state, Calya knew she’d never make it to the group without retching.
Desperate times.
Willing her stomach to behave, Calya leaned against the bulkhead and uncapped the Scarlett Kiss, pulling the cork free with her teeth and spitting it off to the side.
She emptied the contents in two swallows.
It had a mild sweetness that reminded her of the fruits from the southeastern Radiant Isles, with a finish tart enough to make her wince.
Calya took a few slow, grounding breaths as a tingling sensation zipped through her body.
She shivered, and the strange feeling faded as quickly as it had appeared.
In its place, an ember of heat flickered to life at her core as the Scarlett Kiss settled in.
The nausea that had been her constant companion began to fade, leaving her emboldened in its absence.
The walk to the back of the salon didn’t seem nearly so fraught anymore. She pushed off from the bulkhead, but hadn’t taken more than a few steps before Brint blocked her way.
He held up the discarded cork. “You dropped—” His eyes widened at the sight of the bottle still clutched between her fingers.
He snagged it, and though she held on, he dragged her hand up to eye level. “Caly,” he said, and gods all break had she never hated more the way his voice carried. “Is this what I think it is? What’s a girl like you doing with—”
“Get fucked, Brint,” she snapped.
In such tight quarters, and without the crisp outside air as a buffer, the layers of his cologne had her suppressing a gag.
Clearly, Brint had stocked up on the trendiest scents in Central District and layered them without any sense for moderation.
Or separation. The man reeked like a candle shop that had put all its Winterfest shit on clearance.
He leered at her. “I’m not saying no if—”
“You’re disgusting.” Calya gagged. “I don’t fuck my sister’s castoffs.”
“Cast— You can’t be serious? I was fucking other—”
“Think very carefully before you brag about your infidelities.”
Brint’s mouth snapped shut. It didn’t remain so for long, as a snide expression filled his face. He wiggled the empty Scarlett Kiss still clutched between them. “So, who were you planning on sharing this with?”
“Me,” came Lowe’s voice from behind her.
Brint dropped his hold on the bottle, causing Calya to stumble back a step without the extra resistance. Lowe steadied her, his arm snaking around her shoulders.
“Him?” Brint said, expression torn between disbelief and suspicion. “Really?”
“Yes. Specially negotiated, of course.” She sneered at Brint before turning to face Lowe. “Let’s be clear on a few things. This is a temporary, mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“Noted,” Lowe said. Though he spoke calmly, a benign curve shaping his lips, his gray eyes remained unreadable.
Whether it was the pressure of improvising or the nudging of the Kiss working through her veins, Calya embraced the way it freed her tongue.
She poked Lowe in the chest, a playful haughtiness in her tone as she declared, “You’re contractually obligated to give me at least two orgasms before I even consider sucking your cock.”
Brint laughed nervously. “Oh, Caly, you’re so blunt. I’ve always liked that—”
“Understood.” Lowe’s fingers grazed her cheek. “Any other demands?”
“Yes. We will not be kissing or cuddling under any circumstances.” Not that the latter had ever held much temptation for her, but best not to take chances when it came to the ranger. Not if she was about to spend the rest of the day and night in a magic-induced heat with the man.
Her eyes slid to Brint, who was staring at them. A touch horrified, but also jealous. She fluttered her fingers at him. “Do you mind? We need to discuss the finer points of our fucking.”
“Gods all— You don’t have to be such a frigid bitch about it,” Brint groused.
Calya smirked. “Why deny my true nature?”
Brint swore again before slinking away. Neither Calya nor Lowe paid him any attention, their eyes locked on each other.
“So, are we agreed?” she said, the few words taking an alarming amount of willpower to come out nonchalant.
The knot of his throat rose and fell. Calya had the sudden urge to lick it. Wondered if he’d let her. What would the ranger smell like after fucking all night?
Calya wet her lips, a zing of pleasure arcing straight to her clit at the way his gaze locked on her mouth. A small, prideful part of her brain warned against him. Against the pull that had already started to form between them, one that would only grow stronger.
Only because you’re denying yourself, the hungry side of her mind supplied. Building the idea of him up in your head. The truth always disappoints. This’ll make it easier to forget him later.
Calya was inclined to agree with her carnal self.
This wasn’t fishing for anything serious.
Relationships were something she’d done away with years ago.
When she wanted a change of pace from her own ministrations, she had a few partners of similar mind that she could call upon.
But seeing as none of them were at hand, and a sexy ranger was, why not indulge in what was essentially nothing more than a pleasant way to pass the time?
“Agreed, and I’ll bet I can change your mind.”
“On?”
“Kissing me. Again.” Lowe ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “You seemed to—”
Calya bit his thumb. Briefly, but hard. “Doubtful.” She smirked up at him. “But you’re welcome to try.”
Lowe’s hand went to the small of her back, and he guided her out of the salon.