Chapter 10
Tink
Tink fanned herself with a giant leaf, fighting a losing war against the heat racing under her skin.
But the sun disappearing behind angry storm clouds wasn’t solely to blame.
Pirates and merfolk frolicked in the crystalline shallows, most without some, or all, of their clothing.
Rum flowed freely from tapped barrels that Cressida and Hook’s crews had brought to shore.
Fish roasted on a fire for the humans—the merfolk ate them raw and wiggling, sometimes while still embracing their partner of the moment.
The scent turned Tink’s stomach. She didn’t eat fish, or any meat—something Barley, one of Hook’s crew, discovered the first morning on Hook’s ship when he’d brought her salted codfish.
If she’d had anything left in her stomach, she’d have lost it over that disgusting sight.
“Care for another?” Barley offered her a ripe mango where they lounged in the shade provided by lush palms on the edge of the beach. Of all the crew, he was a calm anchor in the storm, level-headed and soft-spoken. Honestly, not at all like most pirates, which raised him higher in her esteem.
The creamy sweetness of sugar apple still lingered on her tongue. “No, thanks.”
Squeals split the air. Tink couldn’t help but look, drawn by curiosity that teased her more than the breeze blowing strands of her golden hair.
A naked man—Smee—hefted a mermaid from the sea.
The first mate twirled her around above his head as the swell of a wave lapped at his chest. Moisture grew between Tink’s legs as she drank in the revelry before studiously looking away back toward the forest. Pixies were not always the modest sort, but neither did they lust so freely and openly.
Their pleasure was in one’s company, their trust, not only the feel of another’s body entwined with their own.
But she’d lost that company, the companionship, her home. She sighed, and her shoulders hunched. A pixie without that was nothing more than a pretty wraith with wings.
“You could join them, you know,” Barley said.
Tink rolled her eyes. “That’s the fourth, no fifth time you’ve said that. You could too.”
“Someone ought to keep an eye on you.” He grinned as he brushed long, brown hair back from his face.
“Besides, these won’t fix themselves.” Barley lifted the garment in his hand for emphasis.
A basket full of assorted clothes with visible rips and tears occupied the sand next to him.
He was the quiet sort, saying little and content to linger in her company while he worked.
“Captain’s order, eh?”
“No. He didn’t need to ask.”
Of course not. Ever loyal to his captain, Barley favored more creative ventures than hoisting sails or navigating by the stars. The crew was lucky to have him.
Said captain had disappeared into the forest shortly after his private meeting with the queen.
Tink shivered, remembering her fang-filled grin and dark claws longer than a jungle cat’s.
Whatever they’d discussed, Hook didn’t like it.
A dark cloud loomed over his mood like those still rumbling on the horizon.
Tink overheard brief words with some of his crew, informing them of their destination, before he’d stomped off without another glance.
Instead of dimming the mood, the news spurred the pirates to party harder.
One last fling in case the treacherous waters of the Shrouded Isles dragged them down to the depths.
Sage and Smee had literally dragged her into the water with the merfolk until she shook them off and traded the sea for shade.
They’d laughed and smirked as a wave nearly knocked her down during her retreat, yelling all kinds of things about how she owed them for getting them all cursed.
Maybe she did, but she wasn’t about to join their romp. Honestly, she was amazed they didn’t hate her for what she’d done. They had every right to. When she’d ventured the question to Barley earlier, he’d merely shrugged and said Hook had told them it was an accident, one she was going to help fix.
Tink pulled at the sleeve of her shirt, stuck to her skin by sweat and heavy humidity.
His shirt. He’d covered for her to his crew when he had no reason to.
A part of her wished the captain had joined the revelry.
What did he look like without his shirt?
His breeches? Another part of her, a dark, secret, treacherous chest she kept locked away, loathed the idea of him caressed by mermaid claws or wrapped up in one of Cressida’s crew.
“I can’t sit here anymore.” Tink pushed to her feet, brushing sand from her pants.
“Oh?” Barley glanced toward the revelers.
Tink put her hands on her hips. “No. I need…” To relax. To think. To get away from filthy pirates.
He pointed his sewing needle at the dirt path behind him. “There’s a hot spring a little way down that path.”
A flicker of joy bubbled up from the hazy murk within. She flexed on to her tiptoes, body already loosening at the prospect. Warm, soothing water in a bath that wasn’t salty. No mermaids. No orgy. Just— “Can I go alone?”
She feigned modesty, staring at her boots like a child. Barley was a tolerable companion, for a pirate, but stripping down in front of him was out of the question. Sharing a bath with him? Hard pass.
The shirt he mended found a home on top of the others in the basket. “I should go with you.”
“Not a—” she protested.
“Fine. I’ll just watch the path,” he said, raising his palms. “Make sure no one disturbs you.”
She clasped her hands in front of her and gave him her brightest smile. “Perfect.”
*****
Moss-covered rocks tickled her bare feet.
Large pools of water trickled down like a giant’s staircase, one to the next, from somewhere high on the steep hill above.
Birds sang. Tree branches laden with fruits dipped toward the ground.
Others formed a canopy above, bathing the springs in muted, dim light.
Soon the sun would sink below the storm clouds, and the only light would be from the luminescent moss hanging in clumps off the rocky hillside.
Tink sighed as she unwrapped the binding around her wings and dropped it on her pile of discarded clothing.
They stretched and fluttered, lifting her toes off the ground, as she worked out the aches and kinks from keeping them bound.
No amount of stretching could compensate for the soreness the bindings inflicted—a necessary evil living among humans.
When was the last time she hadn’t felt pain performing such a simple lift?
Hook feared she’d fly away? Ha. She’d be lucky to fly the short distance back to the beach before her wings groaned in agony.
Misuse and living outside the magic of the vale were cruel punishments to any pixie.
Steaming water enveloped her foot, her calf, her thigh, then higher as she drifted down into the spring’s embrace.
She groaned in mixed pleasure and pain, savoring the sweet burn that distracted from her abused wings.
Smooth boulders below the water’s surface provided the perfect seat, as if someone had long ago built this hot spring stone by stone for human use. Perhaps they had.
A contented sigh joined the fading bird calls. It was peaceful, comforting. Such a pleasant change from the ridiculousness on the beach. Every step she’d taken into the woods away from it had lifted her spirits. Tink let her head rest against a mossy rock as she sunk into the water up to her neck.
A thread of homesickness stitched its way into her heart.
If she closed her eyes, she could be there, resting in the springs beyond her little village with her cousins.
Did they think her dead? Mourn for her? And Lily…
She had to have made it back, she had to be safe.
But then why had no one come looking for her if Lily had told them where she’d gone and what had happened?
Perhaps they really did consider her a lost cause.
“And now I’m stuck with these filthy pirates,” she lamented.
A deliciously deep voice broke the peaceful night and vibrated along her skin. “Who’s filthy?”