Chapter 31
NO WONDER SHE SEEMS HAPPIER HERE
RUNE
The deck is quiet, bar the sound of gentle waves slapping the side of the hull. Pale, watery light washes The Gilded Hart as the sun makes its way to the horizon. I sit on a wooden crate outside my quarters, head leaning back against the door, my mind and body equally exhausted.
Behind the barrier is the woman I’d ravished mere hours ago.
Now the enemy once again. I’d tied her to the bedhead, yet little good it’ll do.
If she wants to escape, she’ll find a way.
I just needed her to be away from me. I can’t bear to look at her.
Doesn’t matter that even the thought of her sends my body into a frenzy of heat and desire. We had our one night. Now it’s over.
The moment I mentioned going after her father, she’d panicked. Tried to stop me. But once I made it clear I didn’t need her opinion, something in her eyes shifted. Her fire went out, and she hasn’t spoken since. Wouldn’t even meet my eye when I chained her to her fate.
Better to end it now than bleed later.
We’ll find the key. Get the treasure, and go our separate ways. Her to wherever—me to avenge the innocent lives lost at the hand of the Viper captain.
Elio left a while ago to make sure all the shipments we’d ordered were arriving on time, and to double check the rest of the crew members paid up at the inn. It’s for the best. Right now, I don’t know who needs the space more. Me or him.
Odelia Nisse Ivor.
Her name screams itself into the darkest crevices of my mind that I don’t dare give light to.
The signs had been there. Plain as day. Viper tattoo on her wrist. Good with a weapon, too good. Cunning. Clever. Making deals for her freedom. And like a fool, I’d fallen for it.
For her.
I close my eyes, my fists curling as they hang between my knees. I can say all day long that I’m mad she hid from me, but the truth is that I’m mad that I was ready to dive headfirst into the Odelia I’ve come to know. That I’ve given so much to her already.
If father saw me right now . . . well I couldn’t bear to face his look of disappointment. I’d rather sail the seas for the rest of my days than admit I’d really gone and fucked everything up.
No matter how much I try to remove her from my thoughts, I can’t. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is the way her head tips back, eyes dancing as she laughs at one of Otto’s jokes. Her laughter—like spring breezes through wildflower meadows—plays on repeat.
Yet, the memory is quickly replaced with the vivid image of her in the storm, standing on a deck with blood-soaked hands. Crimson dripping from her bola and dagger, painting the wood beneath her red. Who knows how many she’s killed. Her role and reputation suggest it’s a number I’d rather not know.
I stand from the crate and stride to the side of the hull. I grip the edge of the railing, my knuckles turning white as I look out at the shadow-drenched, cobalt sea, deep and velvety, still touched by the last remnants of night.
She’s saved my life more times than I can count, so where is my mercy now?
She hid her name, she’d killed Reid, but the moment his name left her lips, it all made sense. She was right. Reid would have used her name like a weapon. But to kill him? The deck groans softly as I pace, hands on hips. She could have come to me. I would have helped her.
Or would I? Look at how I’m reacting to the truth. Can’t stand to face her. Can’t stand how blind and hopeful I was—it was my own damned fault I didn’t see what was right in front of me.
I’m a fool. In more ways than one. There is no outcome that didn’t see Reid lifeless at the bottom of the Adamaris Sea.
Because I’d seen the way he looked at her like he’d gut her the moment he got the chance.
And if I found out that he’d threatened her, that he’d threatened my crew, in any way, I would have been the one to send him to his death.
Odelia had said she needed to get away. Go so far that none would ever put two and two together. The entire time, she’d been clear about her goals. About what this is.
I’m the one that can’t seem to walk away.
I snap my head towards the door to my room, gravitating towards it like the moon tugs at the sea.
My boots are silent, hand hovering over the brass door knob.
It’s quiet inside. Has she fallen back to sleep?
Does someone with that much blood on their hands ever dream?
Or do their sins keep their mind in constant turmoil, even in rest?
She’s probably forming a plan to steal the rest of the keys the moment we find the fourth one. Do I care? Will I really just let her go when all is said and done?
My hand drops to my side, and my chest begins to collapse in on itself.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. How am I supposed to move forwards knowing what I know when all that consumes me is the scent of her hair.
The way she fits so perfectly in my arms or the way her lips taste when she’s exploring mine.
Then there’s the way she whimpers when my head is between her legs, and my tongue is between her—
My cock is getting hard just thinking about it.
A viper in my bed?
Fuck.
I’m done for.
And then there’s the damn complication of Ivor being docked somewhere close.
Killian had said as much in the message, but I can feel it, like a thorn under my skin.
My plan—the plan—was always to see Odi on her way and then face Ivor, settle the blood debt once and for all.
But half my crew’s already rotting in the sea because I thought I could play this smarter.
But I botched it.
I return to my place on the crate in front of the room. Head on the door, eyes resting.
Every move since finding her, has been me clawing at a mess I made myself. I should’ve gutted Ivor the moment I had him within reach. Should’ve cut the head from the snake and ended it clean. Instead, I let him walk, and now the bastard’s shadow has me glancing over my shoulder every turn.
The thought of it makes my jaw ache, teeth grinding hard enough to crack.
There’s no undoing it, no taking back the chance I lost. And if the moment comes again .
. . when it comes—I won’t falter. Ivor’s mine.
For Otto and his mutilated skin, for my crew and years of sleepless nights, for anyone else that has suffered for the greed of those who think they own the sea.
Sunrise arrives. Warm, and glowing. Salmon hues, bleeding into daffodil yellow, spill across the waves like honey. And with the arrival of the sun comes the crew. They trickle in slowly, completely unaware of the troubles I keep.
I fold my arms across my chest, pretending to sleep so I can be left undisturbed for a little while longer. It’s only when I hear a thud of boots a few paces from me do I crack an eye open to see long white braids, black leather, and a scowl.
Elio obviously told Tavi then.
Good. If my judgement can’t be trusted, then everyone should be a little more cautious.
She looks to the door then to me, and before I can utter a word she twists on her heel and stalks away.
My chest constricts again. A crushing weight that I have no choice but to carry. Tavi is so pissed at me, and rightly so. Can’t blame her. Yet what was I supposed to do? Say no to the last link I have to my mother?
Perhaps I’ve finally lost my mind. Perhaps all I’m chasing is phantoms of my own creation.
By the time midday hits, the remaining crew have returned, some more lively than others. And the shipwright, along with an eager Stiden, has finished putting The Gilded Hart back together.
The deck is alive with noise, boots thumping, ropes slapping, voices carrying over the sound of screeching gulls above. I make my way over, always keeping the door to my quarters in sight . . . just in case.
The port’s shipwright stands near the foremast on the quarter deck, hands on hips and a streak of tar across his cheek like war paint.
“How does she fare?” I call up to him from below.
He peers over the railing. “If you want a perfect fix you’ll have to take it to the builder, but we’ve done what we can in the time we had. It’ll keep you afloat.”
I nod before glancing up, eyes tracing the length of the mast. The patch job looks sturdy enough, but I can still see the strain in the wood where the kraken had wrapped its horrendous tentacles. We can’t afford to face something like that again. We won’t survive it a second time.
The crew hovers nearby, watching me, waiting for my word like it’ll fix everything. But it won’t. My jaw tightens. “Good enough,” I say, though the words taste bitter. “To your posts. We set sail shortly.”
The shipwright nods, already barking orders at a pair of dockhands as he goes. I let my gaze sweep the crew. Tired faces, more lined than they should be. My heart aches for what I’ve put them through.
The rest of this journey is on me and Odi. And us alone.
Footsteps sound behind me, and I swivel to find Elio. “All the crew are on deck and accounted for.”
I nod. “Otto?”
“Yeah, he’s already prepping lunch.”
A smile spreads across my lips before I can stop it. Of course he’s already in the kitchens. I have never known anyone to have the work ethic that he does. At seventeen years old, too.
He needs to know about Odi, and I want to be the one who tells him. It's my role as his captain . . . and his friend.
I flick my gaze towards my room, then back to Elio. “Watch her for me?”
He nods. “Where are you going?”
I brush past him, tossing the words over my shoulder. “I need to talk to Bear.”
The scent of roasted meats, and charred vegetables hit me the second I enter the kitchen. Something simmers in a black pot hanging over the hearth, and Otto is hunched over the bench dicing herbs and tossing them into a glass bowl that has what looks like olive oil in it.
He doesn’t hear me approach, too occupied with the task at hand.
I clear my throat. “Bear.”