Chapter 51
Alexios
The kid Lyssa rescued from the vampire really is obsessed with ships. I don’t know how he’s come up with this many questions to ask the satyr, but they appear to be unending.
“I need to go and read up on the indigenous fauna of Sagittarius,” Len eventually tells him, and trots off.
Lucas pads over to the captain’s chair and runs his fingers over the large navigation wheel.
Lyssa is standing with both hands on the mast, her eyes closed. She’s been there for at least twenty minutes, and the ship started moving almost right away. I guess she’s avoiding me the only way she can when she can’t be more than twenty feet from me.
“Do you think she’d mind if I sit down?” Lucas whispers to me loudly.
I shrug. “I think it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”
He grins, then hesitantly lowers himself into the chair.
“No, I don’t mind.” Lyssa’s voice rings across the deck, and he leaps up like he’s been electrocuted.
“I’m sorry, captain, I just—”
“I said I don’t mind,” she says. “It’s highly unlikely you’ll be able to communicate with her, but if on the off chance you do, do not change our course.”
Lucas’s mouth drops open. “You think I’d be able to do that?”
Lyssa lets go of the mast and opens her eyes. She blinks, then focuses on Lucas. “I offered you a place on my ship,” she says, throwing a glare at me. “And if you’re worthy, then the Alastor will accept you. If that happens, then yeah. Sure. You can direct her anywhere, unless I stop you.”
Lucas sits back down, leans forward, and strokes the wheel again. “I’ve always wanted to live on a ship,” he says.
“Why’s that?”
He looks at her. “Freedom. Endless skies. Constant excitement.”
I watch in fascination as every edge around the formidable Captain Lyssa melts away. Her eyes shine, her shoulders relax, her tight mouth softens, and her fierce aura warms.
“She’ll give you all of those things, Lucas. If this is the right place for you, then she’ll be everything you need.”
The kid beams at her. “Thank you. For taking me in.”
She stiffens a little. She’s not used to praise, perhaps? Or gratitude?
“Thank me when you’ve earned your permanent place.” The softness is gone.
Lucas nods fervently. “I’ll earn it, captain. I will. Don’t you doubt it.”
“Good.”
I’m not sure what I expected when I put the poison in Lyssa’s glass at the feast. I didn’t get further than the immediate plan. But it sure as shit wasn’t this.
Why in Hades do I feel this twist in my stomach every time she surprises me? And why did I feel so jealous hearing her and her best friend take comfort in each other?
Loneliness. That’s all. It’s nothing to do with her. She’s fascinating, for sure, but I’m not actually jealous of Epizon receiving her affections.
A vivid image of how I’d like to receive her affections barrels through my mind, and I take a deep breath.
“I need a wash,” I say.
She looks at me, eyes blazing, and my cock stiffens. “You and me both.”
Shit, now my head’s filled with that.
She doesn’t take long in the washroom, but it’s long enough that I’m aching by the time she leaves. I’ve also moved dangerously close to abandoning caution.
I give her a smile as she exits the washroom. “You know, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so close to death as I was today.”
“And you’re smiling about it because…?”
“Because, special girl, it was exhilarating. I’ve never felt like this. Is this how you feel all the time?”
“You’re a man-child, with no idea what’s at stake,” she says.
“Oh, I know what’s at stake. And I got a healthy reminder when you forced me to jump onto a giant monster over a pit of acid and flame—my life, your life, and everyone dependent on us.”
I falter slightly at the word us.
She cocks her head. “Who’s dependent on you?”
“Bassari,” I answer. She narrows her eyes. Fuck. Focus. “And now this crew,” I add with an indifferent shrug. “I am, after all, a part of the Alastor now.”
I know that’ll piss her off, and I’m rewarded with a bark of anger. “Nobody is a part of this crew until they’ve earned it—which, by the way, you will never, ever do,” she spits. “Tell me truthfully, did you trick your way onto my ship just to try to live forever?”
“We’ve had this conversation before, and I’m bored of it.” I pull my shirt over my head.
“No, we haven’t. And you don’t get to choose what we talk about. I’m your captain. Your superior.”
I grin at her, then yank off my trousers.
Her cheeks pink, but this time she refuses to spin around. “That’s not going to work anymore.”
Slowly, I pull down my dark underwear. She keeps her eyes fixed on my face.
“My esteemed Captain Lyssa,” I say. “I followed your orders to the letter today. And we nearly won. I think I deserve some credit.”
Cheeks darkening, she inadvertently wets her lips.
“Fine. You… You weren’t shit.”
I give a bark of laughter, which makes her jump enough to lose her laser focus on my eyes. They move straight to my erect cock.
An unintelligible noise mumbles from her mouth as her eyes widen. My grin stretches from ear to ear. I’d say from her face that she’s not seen many before.
“I’ll take that.” I smile.
Her eyes snap guiltily back to mine. “Take what?” she blurts.
“You saying I wasn’t shit. Or has this made you forget what we were talking about?”
I wave my hand down at my cock, and she follows its movement, then swears viciously.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I frown. “This is perfectly healthy, I assure you. I had a near-death experience. Much adrenaline. And now, apparently, much arousal.”
She shakes her head, clenching her teeth together. “Get the fuck in there, now.” Her arm snaps out at the washroom.
“Want to join me?”
“Not if our lives depended on it.”
I shrug. “You know where I am if you change your mind.”
Sadly for me, she doesn’t change her mind. A woman with that much passion inside her must have needs, though. And fuck, what must it look like when she gives in to them?
As I’m cursed with a vivid imagination, it’s mere moments before my hand is wrapped around my cock, pumping it hard as I picture Lyssa straddling me, gloriously naked, fiercely reluctant, and utterly coming apart around me.
I suppress my moan as I find my release, and am almost immediately disappointed that it’s done nothing at all to quench whatever this restlessness is.
Desire. Perhaps even a crush? That familiar feeling of wanting the unwantable.
But what is it I want from her?
I want to make her scream my name. I want to make her feel like nobody else has ever made her feel. I want to watch all that anger and fear and armor crumble.
Why, though?
She was supposed to be a means to an end. She’s dangerously close to becoming a distraction.
Enough, I tell myself, and dunk my head under the surface of the bathwater. No more fantasies. Eyes on the prize, and nowhere else.