Chapter 9
KEEPING SECRETS
RUNE
I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I shouldn’t want to touch her skin, taste her tongue on mine or dance with her on these moonlit shores, and I certainly shouldn’t want to fuck her until her voice is raw from moaning my name.
But I do.
Odelia darts away, her bare feet digging into the silver sand.
Wild, brunette waves fly behind her as she dashes through the sea that kisses the shoreline.
The sound of her laughter carries on the wind, and the moment it reaches my ears something inside me snaps.
I need to chase her. I need to catch her, and then I have to taste her.
My feet move without permission. Salty ocean mist slaps against my skin as I run after her.
Brown eyes dipped in gold lock onto me as Odelia throws a glance over her shoulder, a feral grin stretching across her beautiful rosebud lips.
Silently, she invites me into her orbit, and I accept willingly.
Here, I can want all I like. Here, there are no consequences.
Oyster coloured silk melts to her figure, the wind pressing against the soft fabric, making her look as if she has been draped in seafoam and then stitched together with strings of pearls. Above us, the sky is littered with a thousand pin pricks, each one reflecting off the waves as we prance by.
I close the distance between us, and her scent hits me—honey and pears.
Sweet, fresh, nothing like the brine and rot that cling to the decks day in and day out.
It drags up memories I haven’t let myself taste in years: sun-warmed orchards, overripe fruit on the breeze, meadows that stretch so far you forget the sea even exists.
It’s the kind of smell a man like me longs for—something that belongs to solid ground, to land that doesn’t shift beneath your boots.
The steady thrum of my heart beats inside my chest, and each time I almost reach Odelia, she seems further away. My brow pinches as I see her disappear into the bushes up ahead, her footsteps in the sand my only companion.
“Rune . . .”
I whip my head around, following her voice.
“Rune . . .”
There, in the thicket, I can see her golden highlights blending in with the underbrush like prey hiding from a predator. A grin forms upon my lips. I’ve caught her now.
“Rune!”
The vision before me shatters, melting away into the dark as my mind comes to consciousness. Someone shakes me back into reality. Someone who smells like honey and pears.
My eyes shoot open, hands grabbing for the figure leaning over me. Without too much thought, I yank Odelia’s arms towards my body. What she’s doing I have no idea, but I’m not going to take any chances.
With a muffled shriek, she falls into my lap, her palms slapping my bare chest. For a moment, we simply stare at each other, but I don’t miss the slight intake of her breath as she flicks her gaze down to the pale, gold markings on my skin.
That’s when I notice her wrists, one with the viper tattoo, the other ink free.
Neither of them are manacled. She’s escaped again? How does she keep doing this?
It feels so wrong that she fits so right, perfectly perched on my thighs.
The warmth of her body seeping into my skin, burning through every hardened layer that I keep trying to put between us.
She’s not to be trusted—ever—so why does this feel so good?
I knew the moment she stepped from my sleeping quarters onto the deck dressed in Soraya’s loaned clothing that I’d struggle to look away.
Why did she have to become so irresistible?
The room is dark. Watery moonlight streams through the round glass window, bathing us in its silver glow.
My grip tightens on her arms as I find her gaze once again.
Neither one of us dares to speak, yet the thump in my chest says a thousand words.
It’s quiet enough that the only sound in the room—besides my heart—is the creaking wood of The Gilded Hart.
I angle my head to the right as I notice shadows protruding from the top of Odelia’s head.
Only when she sees me staring does she try to pull back.
That’s when the moonlight catches the stick-like limbs.
My eyes widen slightly when I realise what I’m seeing.
Small antlers. Pale brown. Velvet-like, standing tall between her brunette tresses.
A grin stretches across my mouth as I tug Odelia down. Her breath hitches when her lips are inches from mine, and I can feel the tremor of her pulse under my fingertips.
“You’ve been keeping secrets from me, little doe.” The tension in the room crackles between us. “You’re a nymph.”
Odelia tilts her chin a little higher. “Correction—wood nymph.”
The grin on my face grows wider. No wonder those damn manacles never stay put.
Her eyes flit across my face as she races to find the words to cover her truth. “A woman is allowed to have secrets. Especially from egotistical men like you.”
I allow the low chuckle to bubble up from my stomach. “I call it confidence.”
“Someone is trying to break into your room.” Her voice is laced with frustration.
My brow raises, as I flick my gaze to her lips. “Trying to get me out of the way?”
“No, I—”
My grip on her arms tightens. “What was your plan? Get me to open the door before you deliver a cowardly blow to the back of my head?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re a Viper.”
The light in her eyes glimmers then fades. I watch as the words that were meant for insult settle inside her like a truth. She doesn’t fight back like I thought she would, instead she seems crestfallen. Like she knows exactly who she is and despises it.
I thought all pirates were the same—proud of their title.
However it seems that Odelia is not.
She could have killed me when she had the chance. My eyes dart to my desk, where a large silver candlestick sits. There’s no reason she couldn’t have grabbed it and swiftly ended my life. I would have been none the wiser.
Odelia’s body shifts, threatening to send blood rushing to a certain area. I need to put distance between us before proof of what her proximity does to me becomes obvious.
With effortless movement, I stand, pushing her off my lap.
She takes a few steps backwards, the antlers on her head growing smaller with each passing second.
I shove my hands into my trouser pockets, making sure the necklace is still there.
My gaze doesn’t waver as I stare down at her.
“What else are you hiding from me . . . Odi?”
She folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t have to tell you everything.”
“Oh, but I’m supposed to trust that you’re telling the truth about attempted break-ins? You’re on thin ice as it is.”
“Says the guy whose crew is trying to kill him,” she says, brow raised on one side.
I run my gaze over her, gathering my thoughts. “Just sit down and don’t move.”
She huffs, popping her hip to one side, but she doesn’t move.
The wooden floor creaks under my shifting weight as I saunter towards the door and drag the chair I’d been sleeping in out of the way.
It scrapes out an ugly groan—wood gouging over old boards.
The thing’s heavy as sin, made from rough wood and iron bands, dented and scraped to hell.
I can still see the old hairline crack from the last brawl it survived.
Solid enough to hold back any drunk with a pick and a death wish.
Once it’s out of the way I pull a small bone dagger from my waist belt.
If she’s telling the truth then I’d be daft not to prepare myself for what I might find on the other side.
The hinges on the door squeak open. Elio had tried to oil it recently but I reminded him that I liked it squeaky—the noise alone would scare off any potential assassins.
Cool, salty air greets me. I pause, the door slightly ajar, yet there’s no movement, no sound of any threat. My gaze skims across the moonlit deck. In the distance, a few of the night crew are at their posts, but apart from their low chatter the night is silent.
No doubt she was just trying to get inside my head.
I turn, closing the door softly behind me. Odi hasn’t moved. So she can follow directions. Surprising. “See? The coast is clear.”
She rolls her eyes so far back I’m surprised they don’t get stuck. “I wasn’t lying. Someone was picking the lock.”
My brow raises in question. I’m finding it very hard to believe anything she has to say. “Perhaps someone just wanted to see you in all your infamy—better yet, maybe Otto’s quail had come to peck you alive.” I chuckle, dragging the chair back into place.
She snorts, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe it was you they were after.”
I look at her, let the silence stretch—heavy as the chair pinning us in.
“Then they’re welcome to try.” I hold her gaze until she looks away first. Always a small victory. Small, but sweet.
“I know you’re desperate to escape, so how about you tell me the rest of the riddles and I’ll let you off on the next island we see.”
She hesitates, but only for a moment. “No.”
I slowly stride towards her. “Why? Tell me. Will you take the riches back to your crew?”
“No,” Odi huffs, standing her ground.
“Typical that you’d betray your own kind. So, off into the sunset, huh?” I say with a grin.
She squints her eyes. “That’s none of your business.”
“Mmmm my guess is another ship then? This time your own crew? All grown up. Striking out on your own. I’m sure your mother would be proud.”
Odi flinches, her brow knitting together as her hand instinctively reaches for her throat, grasping for something that is no longer there.
She gets heated fast—too much bite for how small she is.
She pushes right up into my space, chest brushing mine, chin tipped up so she can snarl at me properly.
It’s almost funny. She barely comes up to my collarbones, but she spits venom like she could bring me to my knees.
“My mother’s dead. Can’t you tell? she hisses, words sharp enough to cut. “No milk stains on my shirt, eh? Not like you. Mommy buy you a ship? Wanted to make sure you could compensate in any way necessary, I’m sure.”
Her words curl around me like a sharpened blade, but I’m not laughing now. It’s too easy to feel that old wound crack open like it never healed.
I look down at Odi—so close I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, see how her throat works around her anger. I should find it amusing, how small she is under my shadow. But all I can think about is my mother—how she vanished over a decade ago. No storm, no wreck, just gone.
My father held a funeral anyway. A box of rocks in the ground. An empty coffin for show. Water elementals don’t just disappear . . . not unless greedy bastards come sniffing for their knowledge of the sea and its hidden treasures.
I breathe through the anger. If she’s dead—and gods, she might be—it’s because of greedy landsmen like the ones Odelia calls captain. Those who would carve the very sea open just to see what they could drag out bleeding.
My gaze finds Odelia’s again. She’s waiting for a reaction, craving it.
The small shell carving in my pocket feels smooth between my fingers as I rub my thumb over her necklace.
Admittedly, my mother would have liked Odi.
The same desire for freedom I once saw in my mother’s eyes is mirrored in the woman in front of me.
For a moment, I feel sorry for her. There's a hole in her chest that's a twin to my own.
In another life, other circumstances, maybe—no. She is everything I stand against.
Dreams be damned.
She flinches as I reach for her wrists. While I hold her, I move to the chest tucked between my nightstand and the desk, pulling out a fairly long length of thin rope.
Her eyes widen, but there’s no way I'm letting her free roam around the room. She might be beautiful, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t trained to kill.
A loop around her wrists, pulled tight and knotted twice. Then another length runs up, over her shoulders, down around her chest—crisscrossed so if she tries to shift, her arms will stay pinned tight against her sides. I anchor it at her waist for good measure.
Honey and pear wash over me as I tug the rope at her waist, the movement causing her hair to brush her shoulder.
“Hope you remember how to untie me when you need my help.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.
I ignore her, and continue to tighten all the knots.
She trembles under my hands. Anger, not fear. Good. Let her be angry—she’ll live longer that way.
“Elkhorn crab got your tongue?”
I flick my gaze up, meeting her. Slowly, I push her away until the back of her knees hit the edge of my bed.
She sits, tries to look away—stubborn, sharp thing—but I catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, just under the hinge of her jaw.
“My mother’s dead too. Can’t you tell? I’m horridly lacking in propriety. A pirate in my bed?”
There it is. That flicker of defiance, the bite of fear she’s too proud to swallow.
She breathes through her nose, nostrils flaring, lips parted like she’s weighing whether to spit in my face or find more words to insult me.
Then I flick her chin with my thumb, a sharp, irritating tap that makes her teeth snap shut.
My gaze hovers on her lips, for a moment I wonder if they’d taste as good as I’d hoped they would in my dream.
She’s a pirate, yes. But perhaps like me, she longs to be someone different.
Without another word, I clamp the manacles around the rope and chain her to the bed again. Then I stride across the room, boots tapping on the wooden floor, and settle into the chair.
Neither one of us dares to fall asleep, and only with the rising sun, do I finally let my guard down.