Chapter 49 Danica #2
I squeal and whip around, my eyes narrowing to slits as I level him with my most withering glare. "Excuse you, Captain Grabby Hands," I snap, "I was speaking metaphorically, not issuing an invitation."
Rhyland smirks, "Don't pretend you don't love it, baby. That sweet little ass of yours was made for my hands."
I snort, "Oh, I'll show you sweet, Bitey Boy," I mutter, my tone dark with promise. "Keep it up, and you'll sleep with that tentacle creature tonight."
Rhyland grins, utterly unfazed by my threat. "Bring it on, Angel. You know I can take anything you dish out and beg for more."
I laugh, "Oh, I'll make you beg all right," I mutter darkly, my eyes glinting with mischief. "Beg for mercy when I'm through with you, Rhy-Pie."
Rhyland's brows furrow like he's just now catching onto my creative name game. "What's with all the damn nicknames?" He growls, and I can tell I'm getting under his skin in the most delicious way possible.
I smirk, batting my eyelashes innocently. "Aw, what's wrong? Not feeling the love, Fjord Fluff?"
"Not entirely," he grumbles, his nose wrinkling adorably. "Especially Rhy-Pie. Sounds like something you'd call a fucking cupcake."
I laugh, "Well, get used to it, babe. I've got a whole arsenal of pet names locked and loaded, ready to make you blush like a schoolgirl."
Rhyland grins, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. "Fuck, I love it when you get all feisty," he growls, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine and makes my nipples tingle. "Gets me rock hard for you."
He stalks closer, his movements predatory and full of intent. "Keep sassing me like that, and I might just have to put that smart mouth of yours to better use."
I tilt my chin up defiantly, meeting his heated gaze with a challenge of my own. "Bring it on," I taunt, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. "I can handle anything you dish out."
Rhyland chuckles darkly, his hands coming to rest on my hips as he pulls me flush against him. I can feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against my stomach, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to grind against him like a cat in heat.
"Tread carefully, baby," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "You know what I'm capable of."
I huff out a breath, torn between the desire to knee him in the balls and the urge to climb him like a tree. "Keep it in your pants, Neanderthal," I grumble, poking him in the chest with one finger. "We've got a job to do, remember?"
Rhyland catches my hand in his, his grip firm and unyielding. "Oh, I remember," he murmurs, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "But don't think for a second that I will forget this little moment. Once we're done here, I will remind you who's in charge."
"You're impossible," I mumble, trying and failing to hide my smile. "Can we please focus on the task at hand? You know, the whole 'saving the world' thing we came here for?"
Rhyland chuckles, the sound rich and dark. Then, he changes the subject. "How do we know what we're looking for? I know it's a key, but did Calypso give you any indication of what it might look like?"
I shake my head, my lips pursed in a frown. "No, she was frustratingly vague on the details. We'll have to dig through this mess and hope for the best. It's got to be here somewhere, right?"
Rhyland nods, his jaw set with determination. "Right. Let's get to work."
I spot a desk in the corner as we navigate through the hoard. Its surface is littered with ancient maps and nautical charts. It's like stepping into a time capsule, a glimpse into the life of a long-dead pirate captain.
We split up, each tackling a different section of the treasure hoard. I start with the desk, rifling through the maps and charts. But as the minutes tick by and the key remains elusive, I can feel my frustration mounting.
"This is like looking for a needle in a goddamn haystack," I grumble, tossing aside a particularly ornate compass. "We could be here for days and still come up empty-handed."
Rhyland looks up from the chest he's been rummaging through, his eyes glinting with amusement. "What, you're not enjoying our little treasure hunt? And here I thought you were the adventurous type."
I shoot him a withering glare, my hands on my hips. "Oh, I'm plenty adventurous, big guy. But even I have my limits. If I have to sort through one more pile of cursed doubloons, I might lose my mind."
Rhyland chuckles, the sound rich and warm in the musty air of the ship's hold. "Well, we can't have that, can we? Tell you what, why don't we make this a little more interesting?"
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "I'm listening."
He grins, the expression equal parts wicked and charming. "The first one to find the key gets to choose where we go on our first real date when we return to our realm. Loser has to pay up in sexual favors."
I consider this momentarily, my mind racing with possibilities. "Deal," my voice firm with resolve. "But just so you know, I have a very vivid imagination. You'd better hope you can handle what I dream up."
Rhyland's eyes darken, and his gaze rakes over me in a way that makes my skin tingle. "Oh, trust me, baby," he purrs. "I have no intention of losing this bet. I hope you're ready to pay up when I win."
I flush, my cheeks heating with desire. What sexual favors could he possibly have in mind this time? Knowing him, it'll be wild and daring, like our last little adventure at Playful Pint.
The thought makes my clit ache, my body reacting to the memory of that night. The way he took control and pushed me to my limits and beyond... It was equally thrilling and terrifying, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to do it again.
But I'm not about to let him know that. Not yet, anyway. First, I have to win this bet and show him just how creative I can be when it comes to pleasure and pain.
"Bring it on, big boy," I taunt, my lips curving in a smirk. "I hope you're ready to worship at the altar of my body because when I win, you're going to be my personal sex slave for the night."
Rhyland growls, the sound low and primal in his throat. "Fuck, baby," he rasps, his eyes blazing with hunger. "You keep talking like that, and I might just let you win on purpose."
I laugh, the sound bright and teasing in the musty air of the ship. "Where's the fun in that?" I quip. "I want to earn my prize fair and square. And trust me, when I do, you'll be begging me for mercy."
Rhyland's grin widens, "We'll see about that, Little Angel. You seem to forget who the fuck begs in this relationship."
After hours and hours of digging through this endless sea of shiny shit, we're still coming up empty-handed on the key front. I'm starting to wonder if this whole treasure hunt is just one big cosmic joke or if we somehow managed to take a wrong turn and end up in Davy Jones' fucking junk drawer.
I come across another crumbling map that looks like it's been through hell and back. Tempest Isle is scrawled across the top in fancy lettering, with a detailed image of a key in the corner and what looks like a harp marked on a specific location.
This is the location Calypso told me about.
I show Rhyland, my eyebrows raised in a silent question. "That's the island Gideon mentioned," he grunts, his eyes narrowing as he studies the map.
"Calypso, too. And I'm guessing this fancy-ass harp is the Siren's Lyre," I quip, my tone dry.
I look closer at the key, my nose wrinkling at the sight of the creepy-ass skeleton on the tip, complete with jagged teeth and a blue jewel set into the eye sockets.
"Bingo," I smile. "This is what we need to find if we want to get the hell out of this underwater hellhole. "
Suddenly, a voice hisses in my mind, making me jump. "Free me, and I will give you the key," it rasps, scaring the ever-loving shit out of me.
I whip around, nearly face-planting in the process. Rhyland is immediately at my side, his arms wrapping around me. "What the hell, baby?" he growls, his eyes wide with concern. "What's wrong?"
"Did you not hear that creepy-ass voice just now?" my voice shaking.
Rhyland frowns, his grip on me tightening. "No, I didn't hear shit," his tone laced with worry. But then his eyes lock onto my crown, widening with realization. "The stone," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's glowing. The Faerite..."
My head begins to buzz like a swarm of angry bees, and that's when it hits me. That slimy, tentacled fucker from the depths is trying to chat me up like we're old pals.
"It's that thing in the water."
"Sorry, sushi boy," I respond, "I don't deal with creatures with more arms than a Hindu goddess. You can take your offer and shove it up your fishy ass."
Rhyland's eyes go wide, his jaw clenching with tension. "Really? What the hell is it saying?"
I nod, my stomach churning with fear and disgust. "It wants me to set it free in exchange for the key. Because that's totally a legit offer and not at all a trap."
The Faerite stone is like a damn cosmic telephone, letting me chat it up with every creature under the sun—or in this case, under the sea. But let me tell you, having some tentacled freak of nature whispering in your head is about as pleasant as a root canal without anesthesia.
I can feel the thing's hunger, desperation, and all-consuming need to break free from this underwater prison it's trapped in. It's like a leech, latching onto my mind and trying to suck me dry of any sympathy or goodwill.
Suddenly, the ship lurches beneath our feet, the creature's rage manifesting in a physical tantrum that nearly sends us sprawling. I cling to Rhyland, my heart pounding in my throat.
"Okay, okay," I gasp. "Maybe we could—I don't know—figure out how to spring Cthulhu from his watery cage."
Rhyland's grip on me tightens as he tries to make sense of my sudden change of heart. "How the fuck—?" But then his eyes widen, a glimmer of understanding dawning on his ruggedly handsome face. "Tell that thing we'll help it out, but only if it coughs up the key first. No key, no freedom, got it?"
I grin, "One order of blackmail. Coming right up."
I close my eyes, focusing on the slimy, slithering presence in my mind.
"Listen up, sushi breath," my voice firm and unyielding.
"We'll help you out of your little predicament, but only if you hand over the key first. No negotiations, no exceptions.
You want your freedom? Then you better pony up the goods. "
Rhyland and I cling to each other, our hearts pounding in sync as we wait for the creature's next move. The silence stretches on, broken only by the creaking of the ancient ship and the distant sound of water lapping against the hull.
Suddenly, a splash echoes outside, followed by a loud thunk rattling the deck above our heads. We exchange a look of, "Oh shit," before scrambling up the stairs like our asses are on fire.
A brown leather box sits on the deck like a gift from the gods of bad decisions. I lunge for it, fumbling with the latch to open it.
And there it is—the skeleton key, its blue gem eyes glinting up at me like a beacon of hope in this underwater hellscape.
"I've given you what you desire; now give me mine," the creature demands, its voice slithering through my mind like an eel through seaweed.
I turn to Rhyland, my eyes wide with triumph and terror. "It wants us to hold up our end of the bargain," my voice trembling slightly. "But how the hell are we supposed to free it? And more importantly, how the hell do we get out of here?"
"The valves," his voice low and urgent. "That has to be the way."
Rhyland marches over to the ship's side like a man on a mission, his jaw clenched tight. I watch, half-impressed and half-terrified, as he zeroes in on those valves as if they've personally offended him.
He raises his hands, and then, holy shit, those valves start moving. They're creaking and groaning like arthritic joints, spinning as if possessed by some demented poltergeist.
The whole scene is equal parts impressive and utterly terrifying. Because let's face it, when your vampire boyfriend starts playing ghostly puppeteer with ancient underwater plumbing, you know things are about to get really interesting. And by "interesting," I mean potentially catastrophic.
For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, the silence broken only by the creaking of the ancient ship and the thundering of my heart in my ears. But then, with a groan and a squeal that sounds like the gates of hell opening, all chaos breaks loose.
Water geysers out of the walls like fire hoses, the pipes bursting and spraying like a ruptured artery. The room fills with water so fast, the level rising higher and higher until the ship starts to bob like a cork on the ocean.
"Rhyland!" I shriek, my voice hitting octaves only dogs should hear as I stare up at the rocky ceiling looming over us like the world's worst game of 'Will It Crush Us?'
"Care to share which part of your brilliant master plan covered us becoming the world's most fucked-up submarine sandwich?"
Rhyland grins, that infuriating, cocky smirk that makes me want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. He swoops me up, and I squeal as he carries me below deck.
He sits me on a desk, his hands firm and reassuring on my hips. "Those walls are going to crumble like a sandcastle at high tide," he explains, his voice rough with adrenaline. "The pressure's too much—they don't stand a fucking chance."
I stare at him like he's lost his mind, my eyes wide with disbelief. I quickly peek out the portside window, and sure enough, the walls are starting to crack and crumble like they're made of paper mache.
The ship lurches forward, and I go flying, my heart leaping into my throat as I brace myself for impact.
Rhyland is there, his arms wrapping around me like a safety net, his body solid and reassuring against mine. "Hold on tight, Angel," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "It's gonna be one hell of a ride."
My eyes widen as the realization hits me. "Wait," I gasp, my voice barely audible over the roar of the rushing water. "Are you saying what I think you're saying? Are we about to go over a fucking waterfall?"
Rhyland grins, his eyes glinting with excitement and something darker—a look that makes me want to smack the shit out of him. "Bingo, baby. God, you're so fucking smart."
Before I can process anything, his lips crash against mine in a searing kiss as the ship pitches forward. That gut-wrenching, weightless sensation hits me, and I can't help it—I scream.
"I HATE WATERFALLS!"