Chapter 31
Riella prepared to run.
Thankfully, Jarin had the presence of mind to look back first.
“Silas!” he said wryly, looking the unkempt man up and down. “Seems like you found a tavern.”
Silas was part of Jarin’s crew and he’d entered Klatos earlier in the day than Riella and Jarin. He’d partnered with Drue, who trailed after his drunk crew mate with a resigned expression. The two men caught up with Jarin and Riella, Silas trying and failing to throw his arm across Jarin’s shoulders, because he could not reach.
“I’ve been trying to get him to the inn,” said Drue. Out of all of the Dark Tide Clan, he looked the most respectable in regular clothes, and least like a pirate. In his neat collared shirt and trousers, he could’ve passed for a merchant’s assistant. “We’re in the vicinity of the inn now, at least.”
“Hey, Captain,” said Silas to Jarin with slurred speech. “We did what you told us to do. Went to the docks and had a good looksie, didn’t we, young Drue?”
Jarin raised his eyebrows at the cabin boy.
“Aye,” said Drue. “Artus is in Klatos, it would seem. The schooner he commandeered is docked.”
“Along with every other vessel in the seven seas,” said Silas with a hiccough. “But we found Tregor. Gave him some coin for info.”
“And?” asked Jarin as they rounded a corner.
“Artus’ll be at the festival in Creta Square tonight. At least, I think that’s what Tregor meant. Hard to understand him, you know, what with the?—”
He gestured vaguely around his head, and then at Riella.
“I didn’t personally deafen him,” she said with a sniff.
It was possible she had, actually.
“Anyway—” continued Silas. “Artus’ll surely weasel his way into the wedding at the palace tomorrow night. Dunno how he hopes to get an invite, though. Rumors are swirling about assassinations and such. Security will be tight.”
“I’m certain he’ll find a way, and so must we,” said Jarin. “We go to the Creta Square festival tonight, then. Tomorrow, the wedding. We stop him before he becomes more powerful.”
Jarin seemed reluctant to mention the amulet in front of Silas, which Riella thought wise. Trustworthy or not, the man was drunk, and drunks had loose lips.
“Stop him?” repeated Riella with a frown. “But what about the blood oath? How does it work?”
“The blood oath states that if I or any Dark Tide Clan pirate try to kill him, we die.”
“Even you? Won’t your invulnerability protect you?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know, to be honest. It’s the kind of theory you can only test once. But there are more ways of stopping a person than killing them. And besides, you didn’t take any oath. You could still slay him.”
“I’d love to.”
With an appreciative smirk, Jarin turned back to Silas. “Any word on a sorcerer making trouble?”
“Which one?” he asked in a sardonic tone. “Everyone in the kingdoms will be at the wedding, including the High Magus. If there isn’t trouble of grand proportions, I’ll be flabbergasted.”
“Alright,” replied Jarin. “Good work.” He nudged Riella. “We need to visit a tailor and a dressmaker before the wedding.”
She nodded. Her mind was preoccupied with the idea of Polinth attending a crowded wedding. Even without the amulet, his potential to cause catastrophe was enormous. He possessed explosives and could create elaborate illusions at will.
Then again, the High Magus surely held his position for good reason. He had to be a supremely powerful sorcerer himself. If Polinth attacked, Riella wouldn’t be the only one trying to stop him.
And stop him she must. The full moon was tomorrow night. This was it—she was out of time.
A pair of royal guards passed by in the street. They cast an appraising stare over Riella and the pirates, but kept walking. News of her and Jarin’s entry had obviously not reached this end of the city, but it would only be a matter of time.
“Let’s get off the streets until sundown,” said Jarin. “We should?—”
His words died in his throat, as he inhaled sharply and doubled over. Riella grabbed his shoulder in alarm. Silas and Drue stopped, too.
“Are you alright?” she asked him.
But he did not reply. He only clawed at the center of his torso, grimacing in pain. Had he been poisoned? Should she try to find a healer?
Before she could decide, he abruptly dropped his hands. His grimace disappeared, replaced by a look of uncertainty, or perhaps even fear. He stared at his hands, turning them over and flexing his fingers. His face gleamed with sweat.
“Jarin?” asked Riella. “Are you alright? What just happened?”
He shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Nothing. Too much sun. Come on, let’s go inside.”
Mystified and concerned, but not wanting to press the issue in front of Silas and Drue, she followed him into the inn.
The woman at the front desk barely looked up from her parchment as they walked in. Jarin paid, and collected brass keys for the rooms. Silas wandered in the direction of the in-house bar, while Drue slumped after him to keep him in check.
Riella and Jarin climbed the narrow staircase. The inn had an air of gloom, despite being quite luxurious. The wood was dark and polished, stuffed animal heads decorated the walls, and chandeliers glittered from the ceilings. She tried not to think too much about how this inn would likely be the last place she ever slept.
Would Jarin be with her when she died? If she had one wish for death, that was it. Feeling his strong arms and hearing his deep, gravelly voice might be some comfort in her final moments. But she ought not to expect such mercy. Most creatures on earth and in the ocean died alone.
Their suite had burgundy linens and carved wooden furniture and a four-poster bed with a canopy of layered red silk.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked Jarin carefully, as he kicked off his boots and ran his hands through his hair with a frown.
“Of course.” His expression cleared and put his arm around her waist, drawing her close. “Don’t worry about me.”
She surveyed him, gnawing the inside of her cheek. It was a nervous habit she’d acquired since losing her tail and gaining legs. When she’d been a proper siren, she never had nervous habits. But then, she’d also never had a warm glow in her chest when she was close to someone or thought about them. There were good things to go along with the bad. Jarin had been right about that.
Her face broke into a smile. “I can’t believe I’m in a bedroom suite with a pirate.”
A slow smile crept across his face, his eyes twinkling. “Not the first time though, is it?”
“You really couldn’t have imagined any other way to evade the royal guard at Madame Quaan’s than to get me on the bed? Or were you being a scoundrel?”
He kissed her forehead. “I wanted you from the moment I pinned your wrists to the wall in the brig.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” she replied, punching his shoulder.
“I did, though.” He laughed.
“The siren elders always warned us about evil pirates when we were young—especially the Dark Tide Clan. Their sordid deeds and ugly faces.” She put her head on the side. “How best to eviscerate them. I could hardly wait to grow up and join the fighting.”
“Let me tell you a secret.” He paused, his smile widening. “We never spoke about sirens that way. As much as we hated you, we loved you, too. You could deafen us and mutilate us and sink our ships, but you still entranced us, every time.”
Riella smirked. “Yes, well. That was the idea. The elders did lie about something, though.” She traced the angular line of his stubbled jaw, her fingertip coming to rest on his chin. “You, for one, are not ugly.”
He pretended to buckle at the knees. “An almost-compliment? From a siren? Surely no other man can boast of such an accomplishment. I can die happy now.”
His grin faltered as he realized what he’d said.
Riella dearly didn’t wish to spend her last days and nights lamenting her death. She put her head to his chest, feeling his invulnerable heartbeat and hoping he wouldn’t apologize or try to discuss it. He took her cue and smoothed over the hitch.
“But am I sordid?” he murmured into her hair.
The siren burst out laughing.
“Sometimes.” She tilted her head back and bit her bottom lip. “I quite enjoy it when you are, though.”
“You are not exactly a sweet little kitten yourself.”
With a cackle, she drummed her fingertips against his shoulder, where she often clawed him during sex. She did it on impulse, to vent some of her overwhelming desire for him. Of course, being invulnerable, he always healed within minutes.
“You love it,” she replied.
“I do. You have no idea.”
Jarin swept her off her feet and took her to the bed. Her physical desire for him flared, and she smiled in anticipation as he lowered himself over her body. But the look on his face made her hesitate. It was as though he was feeling a hundred things at once.
“What is it?” she asked.
He held his weight on his elbows, his body on top of hers. In this position, his gray-green eyes penetrated hers at close range and she couldn’t avoid the intensity of his gaze. Not that she wanted to, exactly, but she did not know how to respond to the hurricane of emotion that his attention stirred in her.
He dragged his fingertips across her forehead, moving a stray lock of hair from her face. “I would kill for you, you know. I would die for you.”
She returned his stare. “That’s easy to say, when you can never die.”
He put his lips to her neck and kissed her soft pale skin, sending frissons of pleasure through her body that were at odds with the sweet pain in her chest. Or perhaps the pleasure was in concert with the pain. When you were a land-walker, it could be hard to tell where one ended and the other began, Riella had learned.
“Never say never,” he whispered, tugging the sleeve of her blouse over her shoulder and kissing her décolletage.
“Make me forget everything,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Please, just make me forget for a little while.”
She imagined he would ravage her, undressing her roughly and taking her with enough force to render her incapable of thought. And she liked that idea. She liked it a lot.
But what he did instead was somehow better, even though it hurt. Jarin undressed her slowly and with care, covering her body and neck and face in kisses. His salty, leathery scent enveloped her, giving her comfort and inciting her arousal. Her lips grew tender as he kissed her mouth for an inordinately long time—as if they had all the time in the world—before finally pulling back to tug his shirt over his head.
She lay back, naked, her legs splayed before him while he gazed down at her, his jaw clenching and unclenching. With one leg, she reached up and traced his siren tattoo with the tip of her toes, a smile playing on her lips. His skin flamed against her toes, his sun-burnished abdominal muscles rigid beneath her touch.
He took hold of her ankle and, without breaking eye contact, kissed the arch of her foot. It tickled, but in a good way, and Riella giggled. With his other hand, Jarin eased his trousers over his hips and kicked them off, his huge cock presiding over her eagerly waiting form.
Setting her foot down gently on the bedcover, he leaned forward again, lying over her. This time, she didn’t feel nervous and uncomfortable looking directly into his eyes. She felt safe and calm and happy.
He trailed his finger along her ear, then her cheek, and touched her on the tip of her nose. His erection lay hard and heavy against her stomach. The sensation of his body made her pink heat swell and grow slick with longing.
Still staring into her eyes, and breathing deeply in sync with her, Jarin pressed his mouth to hers. She returned his kiss, nibbling at his bottom lip. He probed her mouth, sliding his tongue against hers. She inhaled his breath as they kissed with growing intensity, marveling at how addictive she found his scent and taste.
He paused, his mouth hovering over Riella’s, while he dragged the slick head of his cock down her stomach and over her flushed entrance. Her eyelids fluttered with anticipation, her talons finding his shoulder so that she could sink them into his flesh. Aroused as she was, she barely noticed as he reached up and guided her hand away.
She threaded her fingers into his hair instead, holding his head close to hers and kissing him deeply as he pushed the head of his cock into her sodden opening, forcing it to give way to him. Gasping into his mouth, she accepted all of his considerable length and girth into her pulsing depths. Her tight muscles wrapped around his shaft as he drove into her fully.
Riella laced her legs around his waist, her hands still in his hair, and held him tightly as he glided in and out of her. Every stroke felt like pure heaven and she wondered how it was possible for sex with Jarin to get better every time.
He put his arms around her body to gain better leverage, increasing the speed and depth of his thrusts. Her moans filled the room and her wetness made his steel-hard erection slippery against her flaming walls. Riella felt herself rapidly approaching climax and she longed for him to fill her with his seed.
Determined to send him over the edge, she used the strength of her legs to drill his cock harder and faster into her. Only when his body grew rigid and his teeth gritted did she allow the waves of her own climax to wash over her. She gasped with pleasure, her core surging with heat as he released his shuddering desire into her.
For those long, blissful moments, her mind was indeed blank. All that existed was Jarin and Riella and the sweetness of their mutual ecstasy.
He cradled her face as the waves began to subside, his shaft still encased in her taut depths.
“There’s something you need to know,” he said as he looked into her eyes.
She blinked. “What?”
“You will survive this full moon, if it’s the last thing I do.”
Before she could reply, he kissed her softly on the mouth.