Savor the light on joyous days
For tomorrow the devil will remember your name.
~Father Jeffory
The sound of drunken singing and James playing a fiddle rang in my ears.
I wasn’t fond of celebrations on the sea since I preferred my men alert and coherent, but there was something bittersweet about being done with Whitton and cutting ties.
My men got Dahlia and me out of that fusty prison in record time, and they deserved to pat themselves on the back.
I enjoyed seeing delight in their otherwise scruffy, worn-out faces.
I leaned against the railing on the port side of my ship watching my men play music, sing, and dance drunkenly across the deck.
Some were drinking to contend with the fact that we were now outlaws with no contracts to bring in the coin.
Others because they so thoroughly hated Whitton and were elated to see him gone.
And David had swiped a pretty amount of gold off his person on our way out, too. That was nothing to complain about.
The night had a bite to it, but the skies were clear and the stars were shining. If ever God existed, that night was proof of it.
But that meant the devil was just slumbering. Tomorrow would be another day with great potential for disaster.
Which meant it was that much more important to let my men loosen up.
Soon, we’d have to figure out our next move in the chaotic world we were all in.
Perhaps another town would need hunters.
Or perhaps we were about to be forced to leave that business behind and go elsewhere.
Adopt a life of piracy with no one to answer to.
Our journey north and integrating two sirens into the crew put cracks in our twisted little family, but it also brought us together.
Those who remained were the most trustworthy men I’d ever known and those who chose to leave had their reasons.
No doubt they had a hand in spreading the word about my confrontation with Collin.
We were not the typical crew of hunters.
But I didn’t give a single shit anymore.
I eyed Dahlia speaking with Meridan near the mast wearing a dress, of all things.
They had both stripped out of their bloodied clothes and threw on the first things they could find.
The dress was dark red in color with a row of lacing down the back that cinched around her waist. Meridan was in something similar but had covered it with one of my men’s coats.
Mullins and Gus just finished a shanty and a few of the men collapsed to the floor out of breath.
Rum was spilling across the deck and I smiled carefully.
I would have joined in the festivities, but the cut on my lip wasn’t fond of facial expressions and my ribs would have been less fond of laughter.
Mullins looked at me, raising a mug high in the air.
“To our captain! Who can take a beating better than any of us.”
“Thank God we didn’t lose you,” someone chimed in. “Not a one of us can captain this ship.”
“Aye, she only listens to you!”
The crew burst out in mirth, all taking a swig of their drinks. I took a small sip of my own, but I refused to fill my belly with too much rum. There was something I longed to do before the night was over and I wanted to be sober for it.
Lifting my eyes again, I saw Meridan strolling toward the stairs going below deck.
Mullins reached out, taking her wrist and tugging her back.
She walked lazily into the open space with him as he tried to force dance steps between them.
It took a bit of coaxing, but before long, she was falling in line with the music.
The men started hooting and hollering like a bunch of excited hounds and once more, a smile was tugging at my lips.
The heavy pouch hanging on my belt filled with Whitton’s money helped my mood as well.
Within seconds, Dahlia was sauntering toward me, her eyes dark and predatory.
Fuck me.
Visions of her tearing into Whitton danced violently before me.
I was mad for letting that harden my cock, but the woman was a menace.
A deadly, beautiful menace. And she was mine.
The way she stared when I was being beaten to a pulp, vengeful and patient, did things to me.
I wasn’t even mad she finished Whitton instead of giving me the chance to do it.
She could tear out the heart of all my enemies in front of me and I would be happy just to watch.
She was walking with purpose and as she cleared the rowdy crowds of men, the corner of her lips curled up. I clenched my jaw, my fingers itching to wrap around that slender neck of hers and feel the pleasure of her surrender.
With a challenging stare, she stopped. Her eyes roamed over me with an agonizing slowness that I could almost feel like fingers against my skin.
“Not in the mood for a revelry, captain?” she said, her voice melodic and sultry.
I glimpsed her lips again and felt my heart purr in my chest at the thought of kissing them.
“Oh, I’m in the mood,” I said. “But my idea of reveling does not involve dancing.”
She reached out, taking my tankard from my hand and setting it on a barrel for someone else to finish. Then she rose up on her toes and leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear as she spoke.
“I am hungry, Vidar,” she whispered, her tone sending chills straight down my spine and to the tip of my cock. “But I fear your body is too broken for the things I’d like it to do for me.”
“Doc says there are no breaks. Just bruises, love.”
The excitement that lit up behind her eyes was all I needed to see.
I turned my head into her neck, taking in her scent before I backed up and nudged my cabin door open with my foot. I slipped inside and waited for Dahlia to follow, aching to quench both our needs.
As soon as the door closed, my body was searing.
I watched her lower the latch to lock us inside and when she turned, those stormy eyes were a tempest that fed the wildfire in my core.
Each breath she took lifted her breasts against the top of her bodice and all I wanted to do was rip the damn thing off her and let them spill out.
“I did not frighten you too horribly, did I?” she said. “When I pretended as if their torture bothered me?”
“Frighten me? No.”
“I knew his face. From our dream.” The corner of her mouth quirked again. “He tasted as foul as I expected.” Her eyes flitted toward mine, darkened by her desire. “I want you to cleanse him from me. Make me forget what he tasted like.”
Dahlia was my monstrous addiction, and I was her tonic for the madness the sea wrought on her vulnerable mind.
Night after night she dreamed of him. The father, she and Meridan called him.
Akareth. The terrible god below that neither of them could truly say existed, but signs of him were everywhere.
In the beastly creatures that stalked the waves.
In the changing tides. In the way Dahlia was haunted by something pulling her to the depths every time she let her guard down.
I was accustomed to keeping her focused on me to draw her gaze from Akareth. It was my pleasure to rid her of Whitton’s stain as well.
I growled low, advancing on her. I gripped a thick handful of hair at the back of her neck and crushed my mouth to hers, pinning her body against the door with the weight of my own.
My lip screamed at the pressure, but I didn’t care.
Even as the wound reopened, I couldn’t tear myself away.
The image of her seemingly lifeless body sprawled on that table flashed behind my eyes and I kissed her harder.
More possessively. Our tongues danced around each other, both fighting for dominance.
I moaned as she licked the inside of my mouth, savoring the taste of my blood.
She loved it. It drove her wild and the thought that it drove her wild sent heat right to my core every time until I was practically bursting from my pants.
Her hands came up, clutching my neck and digging her nails into my flesh.
I hissed and reached for her skirts, forcing them upward in search of bare skin.
Once I found her thighs, I hoisted her off the ground.
Her long legs coiled around me, gripping me tight as she rocked her hips against my groin.
A wave of pain roared up my side where I’d been continually beaten in the ribs and I groaned, but it only seemed to excite her.
“I hope they did not damage you too badly,” she breathed against my lips, one hand snaking down between us to tug at the laces of my britches. “I need your strength.”
I turned my head, my teeth grazing her neck.
“Even if they did break me, I’d let you use me to your heart’s content.”
I let one of my hands join hers between us, sliding it up the inside of her thigh to find her wet and craving attention.
“No bloomers,” I smirked against her. “How unladylike.”
She finally breached the laces on my pants and slid her hand inside, gripping the girth of my cock in her fist.
“We both know I’m not a lady. Nor do I want to be fucked like one.”
I slid my fingers through her wet folds, circling her entrance as she rocked toward my touch.
“How would you like to be fucked?”
She turned her hand from my cock and pressed it to mine, forcing two of my fingers into her hot sheath with a gasp.
“Like I just killed that pig of a man for you.”
I hummed against her ear and then dropped her to her feet, but before she could get her balance, I tugged on her arm, making her stumble past me.
She placed a hand on the table in the middle of the room to catch her balance, right where I wanted her.
Pressing my palm between her shoulders, I bent her over the surface and began ripping at the laces of her bodice.
I just needed to see her skin. I needed to feel it. Taste it.