18. Chapter Eighteen #2
Pirates crowd around makeshift games, coins are exchanged, and dice made out of bones are thrown in the air.
The air is thick with the heat of all the bodies, smoke curling low beneath the ceiling.
It smells of spilled ale and sweat, all of it blending into a smell that my siren does not really like.
The tavern itself is carved straight into the rock, its uneven walls reinforced with rough timber wherever the stone looks like it threatens to give.
Lanterns hang from hooks and beams, their dim light throwing shadows over scarred tables and mismatched chairs.
A long bar stretches along the far wall, crowded with bottles in dark colors.
Behind it, a broad-shouldered man serves the pirates, slamming mugs down and pouring drinks without ever pausing.
Music weaves through it all. They are singing a scandalous song about a fine woman who gets swept off her feet by a pirate and ends up in bed with him. Someone plays a fiddle in the center of the room, and men and women dance around him.
I instantly notice a familiar face, one of the men dancing is Grim. He’s dancing with a brunette woman, swaying on his feet with both hands wrapped around her waist. Their movements are fluid and perfectly in sync. I have never seen him so at ease.
Sable steers me through the crowd of bodies toward the back of the tavern, where a long booth has been claimed by some familiar faces and a few others I don’t recognize.
“—and I swear on the bloody sea,” a blond-haired man is saying, already halfway through his tale. “The maelstrom has us dead to rights. Waves as tall as masts. One wrong turn and the Noctis would’ve been swallowed into the depths.”
Groans and laughter follow.
“Aye, and the Cap‘n thought we were done for,” another voice cuts in, grinning. “Didn’t you?”
Sable laughs, but doesn’t deny it.
The pirate slams his tankard down, sloshing rum across the table. “Then this one—” he jerks his chin in my direction just as Sable guides me to the edge of the booth. “—comes out of nowhere. Stands at the rail and tells the Cap‘n how to cut the current.”
I still, heat creeping up my neck, as heads turn to look at me.
“The siren girl saved our asses,” someone else adds, lifting their mug toward me. “Whether she meant to or not.”
The bench creaks as Sable slides in and shifts to one side, leaving space beside him. I hesitate until he tips his head toward it.
“Sit,” he says briefly.
I slide in next to him. His arm remains along the back of the bench, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of my gown.
My pulse stumbles as the story continues around us.
I’m suddenly too aware of the way Sable leans in, of how his knee brushes mine when he shifts in his seat.
When I glance at him through my peripheral vision, I catch him watching me instead of the storyteller.
Heat rises along my neck, and naturally, my body leans into the attention instead of shrinking away from it.
When our eyes meet, he withdraws his arm and straightens his posture.
I can’t help but feel disappointed. By now, I can admit that I like his touch, the feel of his body against mine.
Eventually, someone slides a mug filled with a light brown liquid towards me.
I take a cautious sip, then another, and feel the tightness loosen by friction.
Liquor. One drink turns into another as the tavern grows louder.
I stop counting my refills at one point and lean back against the uneven wood behind me, barely able to follow the conversation at the table.
The liquor burns less now, or maybe I’ve stopped noticing.
Then Sable shifts beside me. Moments later, his hand settles against my thigh. The touch is casual, the alcohol has emboldened him, yet my breath stills all the same. His thumb presses into my skin before moving in a slow, absent circle, as if he is not entirely aware of what he is doing.
But I am aware. So ridiculously aware that warmth begins to spread from where he is touching me, all the way through my body until I am engulfed in flame.
My eyes lift to his, and this time when our gazes meet, he does not pull away.
The tavern noise fades away, becoming distant as we stare at one another.
Then one corner of his mouth lifts. So he is aware.
“Dance with me,” he says.
I blink at him once, surprised. “You dance?”
A low chuckle leaves his throat. “Sometimes.”
Before I can think too long about it, he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet, gently guiding me past the bench and toward the dancing crowd. The fiddle player shifts into a faster tune, and boots begin stomping along the floorboards before the melody has even settled.
“Come on,” he says, already reaching for my other hand. He pulls me toward the dancers before I can protest, weaving through bodies until we are in the middle of the circle that has formed around the fiddler.
The crowd shouts and whoops as Sable and I step in, though I can see some of the surrounding pirates glancing at me in hatred.
Swallowing, I lower my gaze, not wanting anyone to stare at the scales on my collarbones for too long.
He draws me closer, his hand settling at my waist while the other keeps hold of mine. His mouth lowers to my ear.
“Ignore them,” he whispers. “Focus on me.”
The weight of the stares on me doesn’t disappear, at least not immediately, but then I shift my focus to him. On his firm hand on my waist, on his breath against my ear, the heat of it. Suddenly, all I can feel is him, and everything else fades away.
When he begins to move, my feet recognize the dance before my mind does.
My father taught me dances like this when I was small, laughing as he spun me across tavern floors, way past my bedtime.
Even though my heart stings at the thought of him, right now my heart is filled with something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Something I haven’t allowed myself to feel. Joy.
We spin across the floor together and move with the rhythm of the music.
The circle of dancers shifts and opens, partners passing one another before catching new arms and swinging again.
Laughter rises around us as Sable lets go of me, the world spinning around me.
The next moment, Grim has his arms around me, grinning down at me.
“You and the captain,” he shouts through the noise. “Anything I need to know?”
The heat instantly finds its way to my cheeks. I quickly shake my head.
“There’s nothing to know,” I shout back to him.
He laughs, then spins me again, and I collide against a familiar chest. Sable catches me with ease, and as I look up to him, his grey eyes shine bright in the lantern light.
When his grip tightens and he twists me around once more, a laugh bubbles out of my throat.
To my surprise, he laughs too. The weight that usually sits in his shoulders seems to vanish as the music carries us along, and for one fleeting moment, I can see past the curse, past the mystery of the pirate captain. I see only him.
Just Sable.