Chapter 10
“What are you talking about?” asked Riella. “Why are you here?”
The huge, tanned pirate looked incredibly out of place in the luxe surroundings. His white shirt was damp and clung to his broad chest, dark curls of hair between his tattooed pectorals visible through the fabric. Dainty women shrank from him as they passed, while eyeing him shyly. It was attention that he did not return, continuing to glare at Riella instead.
“I only discovered Artus was bringing you here when I got to Skull Cave,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I swam here.”
She raised her eyebrows, sizing him up. “You can swim?”
He scoffed. “Of course, I can swim. I’m a bloody pirate.”
“I bet you look like you’re drowning.”
He grabbed her elbow and leaned down. “Hey, I came here to rescue you,” he said with a snarl. “Should I not have bothered?”
Riella wrenched her arm from him, and shoved him for good measure. It was like pushing an enormous boulder. She could do it, but it was harder than expected.
“Do I look like I need rescuing?” she demanded.
“Can you fight off twenty guards? Because an aristocrat’s wife has ordered a raid on this place. Zemora. He’s a regular here, apparently.”
Riella hesitated. Out of all the men she’d met, Jarin seemed the most trustworthy. Certainly, she should’ve listened to him about Artus.
“Yes, he is,” she said, adjusting her tone to be less combative. “I’ve met the Count.”
Jarin’s dark brows furrowed. “You don’t mean?—”
“He didn’t touch me.” She pointed up the hall, where the Count’s bodyguards stood watch. “I bound and gagged him. I told his bodyguards I’m getting another girl.”
Jarin snorted with laughter. “You bound and gagged a member of the Court? They’ll hang you for treason.”
“Not if they don’t catch me.” Riella placed her hand over her chest, where the Count’s gold and jewelry were tucked away. How would she avoid the royal patrol and burgle Madame Quaan and help her friends escape with the gold she’d promised them?
“I also may’ve robbed him,” she added. “I should probably hide.”
“Not as much fun as fighting, but alright.”
Before she could protest, he entered a room at random and pulled her inside by the wrist, closing the door behind them. The room was unoccupied, the bed neatly made up with navy blue and gold linens. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a glittering glow. Like every other room in the house, it had no windows.
A disturbance came from outside in the hallway. There was banging and shouting and a few frightened squeals from the women. The house was indeed being raided.
“Quaan would usually pay a bribe to get rid of them,” said Jarin. “But if she knows a siren robbed one of her clients, she’ll let the guards do her dirty work and capture you.” He surveyed the strangely featureless room. The only door was the one they’d entered through. “Do you know any other exits from the building? I did a quick sweep, but my priority was finding you, so I didn’t get a good look.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why would you want to save me?”
“I need you to kill Artus. And you owe me, for stabbing me in the heart.”
“Are you still on about that?”
“Still? It happened this morning!”
Guards pounded on hallway doors, and the thumps were getting closer.
“What now?” she asked. “As soon as they get to our door, we’re caught.”
He rubbed his stubbled jaw, considering her. “Do you trust me?”
“I don’t know.”
How would she be able to tell, beyond any doubt? Perhaps that wasn’t possible. Trusting someone meant taking a leap of faith.
“Why?” she asked, folding her arms. “What do you propose?”
Royal guards were in a shouting match with the Count’s henchmen out in the hall. Riella likely had moments before Zemora was found gagged and bound, by her doing.
“They won’t dare interrupt a Dark Tide pirate with a maiden,” said Jarin. “Get on the bed.”
“Excuse me?” Riella’s heart rate increased, and it had nothing to do with the guards bashing down doors. “I don’t think?—”
“Relax, I won’t plough you for real. We’ll pretend. But it’ll work, I promise.” He paused, leveling his gaze at her. “And listen, I didn’t know Artus was bringing you here. I never would’ve let him do that to any woman. Or any siren,” he added.
Riella gave a curt nod. “Very well.”
This man was her sworn enemy and was helping her because he wanted her to kill his captain. And yet, she innately believed his words. She only hoped he wouldn’t prove her foolish for it.
“Even if she did stab me,” he said with a wicked grin that made her racing heart skip a beat.
Jarin then tore off his shirt, exposing his muscular shoulders and sharply defined abdominals. The dark tuft of hair on his chest ran a line through the middle of his stomach, past the prominent v-shape of his groin, disappearing into the top of his trousers. His torso was covered in tattoos, including an anchor, a rose, a ship and, biggest of all, a siren, her tail wrapping around his taut waist. The inked siren had a serene smile on her face and guileless eyes.
“That’s not a very accurate depiction,” said Riella.
Her voice came out higher than usual, and she couldn’t decide where to look. Looking directly at him seemed somehow perverse, but averting her eyes might suggest she was rattled by him.
For a siren to be rattled by a man was unthinkable.
But, in truth, she was a little. With a thrill of disbelief, she understood that she was attracted to this pirate’s body. This was her first time on the other end of such a dynamic. It was attraction causing her racing heart and frozen thoughts and higher-than-usual voice.
She thought of the fishermen on their broken ship, gawping at her with mouths ajar. Now, she was no better than they were. She surreptitiously touched the bottom of her chin, to ensure her mouth wasn’t hanging open.
“An artist in Port Hyacinth tattooed it,” said Jarin. Unlike her, he did not seem rattled at all, as if he undressed in front of sirens all of the time. He didn’t, of course, but he probably bedded human women with the usual cretinous frequency pirates were known for. “You’ll have to take it up with him.”
He unbuckled his belt, casting off his cutlass. When he undid the top button of his pants, Riella hastened to speak.
“That’s enough,” she said. “Surely.”
“As you wish.”
He took a single long stride toward her, bringing him close enough to catch his scent of perspiration and leather. The guards continued their barrage, barking orders and demanding names. A scuffle seemed to have broken out as patience wore thin.
Jarin lifted Riella from the ground with his arm around her waist.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded.
She did as he said, the many layers of her skirt being pushed to her thighs, revealing the fastenings and sheer lace of her underthings. To stop herself from falling, she was forced to grab hold of the back of his neck. His body felt not unlike the hot rocks of the shoals she sunned herself on during winter, when the water was particularly cold.
He lowered her onto the bed, him on top of her. He held his weight with his elbows, her legs falling apart to accommodate his large body. Although several layers of fabric separated her sex from his, those layers now felt very thin indeed.
“If they’re looking for a siren, we better hide your hair,” he murmured into her ear, sending shivers across her skin. “Your hair shimmers like moonlight.”
She writhed with discomfort, only to knock against his unrelenting body. The discomfort was not with his body, but rather, her own body’s reaction to being near him. How did humans get anything done, feeling attraction like this? No wonder they acted so deranged.
Jarin slid his fingers up the sides of her neck and into her scalp. With gentle tugs from the base of her skull, he pulled her hair until most was hidden, her head cradled in his large hands. In this position, with his face and body bearing down on her, she had no choice but to look into his eyes.
For the first time, she noticed the tiny bronze flecks in his irises, and his thick, jet-black eyelashes. The gold pendant on the chain around his neck rested heavy and cold on her bare, flaming sternum.
“By the way,” he said. “What’s your name? You still haven’t told me.”
“Riella.”
“Riella,” he repeated softly. “You know I vowed to kill you, Riella?”
She rolled her eyes. “So you keep saying. I think you’re all talk and no action.”
“That right?”
As his gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth and back again, he absentmindedly licked his bottom lip. Her breathing became shallow and she lost purchase of her thoughts. She found herself running her hands over his smooth shoulders, the muscles bulging from holding his own weight.
His breath was on her neck, steady and warm. Never had Riella felt so vulnerable. And yet, it didn’t feel bad. How was that possible? She’d grown up being taught that vulnerability was always bad. Sirens were to avoid it at all costs.
“We better make it realistic, don’t you think?” he asked, his eyes penetrating hers deeply.
She exhaled. “Sure. Fine. I don’t care.”
“Good. Because if we were doing this for real, I’d be making you sing for me, siren. And not in the way you’re used to.”
“I doubt you could elicit such a response from me,” she said, praying her words sounded convincing.
Then, he started moving his body, rocking forward and back to mimic thrusting. To her horror, she let out a husky moan. The next time he pushed forward, his groin made brief but firm contact with hers. She felt the hot rigidity of his very large and very human cock.
The effect it had on her was quite out of her control, sending a frisson of heat directly into her core.
“Go on,” he muttered into her ear. “Lie to me. Tell me you don’t like it.”
She should’ve told him to stop. She should have fought the entire royal patrol before allowing herself to be rubbed against by a Dark Tide pirate. But she still didn’t say a word, because she was experiencing the most incredible sensation when his groin touched hers.
He moved in again, pressing his bulge into her sex for longer. Her body responded in kind, apparently wanting to be pressed into. The fact that it was wrong somehow only made it feel better.
An intoxicating warmth spread from her stomach and flooded into the mysterious new region between her legs. The almost uncontrollable urge to move her hips against the rhythm of his thrusting came over her. It felt instinctual, as natural as beating her tail when swimming.
The flash of a smile crossed Jarin’s handsome face, which incensed her. He thought he was the one in control. He thought he was getting to her.
To prove him wrong, she pulled him forward by his neck and ran her tongue over his parted lips, from bottom to top, lingering in the wetted middle. The spikiness of his stubble was a pleasurable contrast to the surprising softness of his mouth.
This time it was Jarin who gave an involuntary moan.
“You taste like the ocean,” she whispered, licking her lips and detecting salt.
He gazed down at her with a drugged look, his fingers tightening around the base of her skull, jerking her head back with a firm tug of her hair. “I bet you do, too.”
A pounding on the door jolted Riella out of her trance. She’d almost forgotten she was supposed to be evading a royal patrol. Moments later, the door opened.
Jarin’s body blocked her view of the guards, but she heard them begin to bark orders.
“Royal guard, searching?—”
He half turned around, scowling over his shoulder. “Get out. Now.”
“Oh! Yes. Right you are, sir,” said one of them. “Apologies.”
“Carry on,” said another.
The footsteps quickly receded and the door closed.
Riella was glad for the interruption, because now she could break whatever spell she’d unwittingly allowed to be cast between them. What would Mareen and Galeil say if they knew she’d been consorting with a male human? Touching him, lying with him, desiring him?
“Alright, they’re gone,” she said in the most no-nonsense voice she could muster. “Get off me.”
She shoved him away and stood. What was the matter with her? Being struck by the compulsion to lick a man’s lips was not right, let alone giving in to it. Sirens were legendarily reckless, but not about that. Their brazenness was intended to defend innocents and the ocean and themselves.
But what she hated most of all, was that she hadn’t hated it . . .
Jarin was slower to stand. He moved to the end of the bed and sat for a while, taking deep, slow breaths. Facing away from her, the tattoo on his back was now visible. The image was the Dark Tide Clan emblem—a giant pair of crossed cutlasses.
Jarin had rightly predicted that the guards would make a fast exit once they knew who he was. The tattoo would’ve been the first thing they saw when they opened the door. Nobody except sirens were dauntless enough to purposely invoke the wrath of a member of the infamous pirate clan.
On this occasion, it seemed she’d been right to trust him.
Riella pressed her ear to the door, trying to pinpoint the guards’ location. The commotion could work in her favor, if Madame Quaan and Gerret were distracted for long enough. She hoped none of her friends were hurt in the chaos.
Meanwhile, Jarin pulled his shirt on. When he finally stood, he had to adjust his bulge rather extensively to buckle up his pants. Riella determinedly looked anywhere except at him.
“What now?” he asked.
“I need to get to the study at the end of the hallway. Break into the stronghold and steal the gold.”
A gleeful smile lit Jarin’s face. “Now you’re speaking my language.”