Chapter 29
Nia’s fingers tapped a staccato rhythm on the wall boards she leaned against. The Monsoon was already too far north.
Too close to the Sleeping Isles for Nia’s comfort.
In a day or two the Storm Ring would come into view on the horizon, and Zanta would have to make the decision to veer west toward Kefrye and the Marran Empire, or east to try to squeeze through the Storm Gap, a dangerously thin stretch of sea between the edge of the Storm Ring and Nanad’s rocky coast.
Soon they’d have to do something. Soon she would have to do something.
Nia glanced down the empty hall. It was late, lookouts had been posted, and most of the crew had retired to their quarters to either sleep, or drink and play cards.
But Zanta was nowhere to be seen. There had been no answer when Nia knocked on her door.
No doubt she was holed up somewhere with Sabriye and the lieutenants making plans.
Nia wanted to beg her not to try the Storm Gap.
It would give them a higher chance of escaping their pursuers, but Nia had seen what those storms did to ships.
One false move and they’d be dashed on the rocks in a second.
Zanta was a risk taker, but she also cared about her crew. Nia didn’t know which route she would deem the better option, but Nia was determined to talk her into going west if they could.
What she really wanted was to sail straight into the storms and come out the other side to home. There was a trick to navigating the weather safely. Stroud had discovered it, but he’d never revealed it to Nia, and without it none of them would survive that journey.
Besides, home had never really been home in the first place.
Nia straightened as booted footsteps sounded down the corridor. Zanta appeared, looking harried, slight bags under her eyes, but beautiful. Nia’s heart fluttered concerningly at the sight of her.
“Zanta, I need to talk to you about—” Zanta crushed her lips in a deep kiss, and all thoughts instantly fled.
She melted into it, her arms coming to rest around Zanta’s shoulders.
The uncertainty of their situation faded momentarily into the background in Zanta’s arms. The fact that they could die if the mercenaries caught up, and if that didn’t happen, if Nia succeeded in finding her treasure, she’d leave, and never see Zanta again.
All that talk could wait, this time was as precious and urgent as anything she’d meant to say.
They stumbled down the hall, Nia’s lips tracing the line of Zanta’s beautiful neck.
Zanta’s back thumped against the door to the captain’s quarters, and Nia moved one of her hands from Zanta’s waist to fumble with the handle.
Finally, finally she would be allowed into the inner sanctum of the captain’s quarters.
She’d fuck Zanta into a stupor, then when the captain fell asleep she’d look for her treasure.
Zanta moaned, tilting her head back against the door to give Nia’s mouth better access.
Her pulse fluttered against Nia’s lips, and her warm scent enveloped Nia’s senses.
Intoxicating. Nia pulled the handle, but their collective weight held it closed.
Zanta’s head snapped forward. She pushed Nia away, and a flicker of panic sparked in Nia’s gut. Had she come to her senses?
But no, Zanta’s brown eyes were hungry. She pushed Nia into the alcove next to her door, and dragged the heavy curtains closed behind them. Lantern light spilled through moth-eaten holes in the fabric, dappling their flushed skin.
Zanta attacked Nia’s lips, pushing her up against the shelf that served as an altar. The statue of the entwined serpents rocked with the force of it, but neither of them paid it any mind. Nia’s lips parted readily for Zanta’s tongue, tasting like the ginger candies she liked so much.
Nia’s ass was forced back against the edge of the shelf, and she braced her hand against the surface.
The scattered offerings dug into her palm.
No food, they didn’t want to attract vermin, instead the shelf was heaped with trinkets.
Coins and shells and cheap pieces of jewelry from market stalls.
Nia silently promised to make an offering of that broach she’d been gifted her last day in Roseforte as an apology for defiling the Serpents’ sanctum.
It seemed a fitting offering, the last gift she’d received before finally returning to the sea.
Maybe the Serpents would protect them from the storms to come.
Zanta’s mouth pressed along her cheek and down her jaw, sending tingles racing over her skin. She gripped Zanta’s waist and hauled her closer, grinding their hips together.
“Zanta, your room is right there, could we—”
The captain groaned against her neck but didn’t answer. Nia had no choice but to surrender to the heat of her mouth. She barely had the presence of mind to wonder what had brought all this on, but all thought fled when Zanta hitched Nia’s leg up, hand delving beneath her skirts.
“No dick today?” Zanta chuckled against her skin.
“Just you and me.”
Zanta’s hand slipped along the back of her thigh and sank into her heat.
“Fuck,” Nia gasped, hips twitching into Zanta’s touch, the serpent statue rocking on its plinth with her movement.
She had to get it together. They were only days away from the Storm Ring, and she was running out of time to gain entry to Zanta’s room.
As amazing as bedding Zanta was, Nia had to keep her eyes on her goal.
“Zanta.” Nia rocked her hips onto Zanta’s fingers again, fighting to keep the pleasure from clouding her judgement. “You promised to fuck me in a bed.”
“Being worshipped on an altar isn’t good enough?” Zanta teased.
That did sound good. A clandestine liaison behind a curtain where anyone could stumble upon them. The little beads of light dappling Zanta’s bare shoulders. Offerings tumbling at their feet. Juices running over Zanta’s fingers.
No. No. She had to stay focused. She grabbed Zanta’s stubborn chin and raised her face. Zanta’s gaze locked onto Nia’s mouth, brown eyes darker in the gloom.
“I want to take my time with you,” Nia whispered. “I want to taste every bit of you until you’re a puddle in the sheets.” The more she wore Zanta out, the more likely she’d fall asleep so Nia could search the room.
And she’d have a great amount of fun doing it.
A quiet huff escaped Zanta’s lips. Her fingers withdrew, and she let Nia’s leg drop. Slowly, she took Nia’s hand from her face.
“Come on.” She threw open the curtain and tugged Nia the few steps to her door. Nia’s heart stuttered. After years, her freedom was close at hand. All she had to do was find it.
The faint smell of incense clung to the corners of the room, an oil lamp already lit on the low table.
Nia quickly scanned the room, but it looked much the same as before.
Floor cushions scattered around the low table, the chair that looked like a throne when Zanta sat on it—now tucked away in the corner—and cushions and blankets piled high on the bed, inviting in the lamp glow.
Nia let triumph wash over her for the briefest moment before she dragged Zanta to her.
Her treasure didn’t matter right now. The talk about the Storm Ring could wait till morning.
Only Zanta mattered. The two of them. Together.
Nia pressed her palms to the small of Zanta’s back, wanting her close. Their noses brushed, Zanta’s shallow breath puffing against Nia’s lips. Expectant.
Nia drew back slightly to look at her. Lips parted and wanting. Thick, dark lashes framing shining eyes.
The only way she could’ve been more beautiful was if she loved Nia back.
No. Nia almost shook her head. She’d not allow that to breach this moment. Not when this was likely to be one of the last times she’d have Zanta like this.
She kissed her so forcefully they stumbled to the bed.
Zanta’s heels hit the carved wood base and she sprawled onto the mattress, gazing up at Nia.
Nia felt like she could fall into those eyes, like diving into the depths of the sea where sunlight barely reached.
She wanted to be enveloped in them, enveloped in her.
To indulge in every taste of her for the last time.
Nia dropped to her knees and removed Zanta’s boots, fingers trailing reverently up her ankles, unlacing the sides of her leather pants, lips trailing over the soft skin as each inch was revealed.
Before long, the leather was in a heap on the floor, and Zanta was nearly bare before her.
Zanta propped herself up on her elbows, shivering as Nia trailed kisses up her inner thigh.
“Kiss my lips instead,” Zanta said breathlessly, and the mood shifted. No longer were they stealing moments of intense pleasure in closets and corners. They were a pair of lovers luxuriating in each other. At least for now.
Nia leaned over her, pressing her into the mattress and taking her lips.
Zanta’s mouth parted greedily for her tongue.
She threaded her fingers through Nia’s hair, holding her there, and Nia let herself get lost in it.
Let herself imagine that they were in love, and that she could stay forever.
She caressed the curves of Zanta’s body. Reverent. Memorizing.
Zanta made a small, sweet sound against her lips when Nia’s thumb brushed her nipple through the bandeau. It sounded like music. Like the sun rising over a calm sea, and Nia never wanted to forget it. Slowly, she removed Zanta’s bandeau and underwear until she lay completely bare.