Sea of Treason (Pirate's Bluff Book 1)

by Stacey Trombley

  "What's that?"

  "Next time you kiss me, I want it to be as you. Not someone else." I pause for one beat to watch the shock cross his face, then pull myself over the railing and throw my body into the black waves below.

  Bluff

  A laugh bubbles up in my chest. I shake my head in Whitley's direction, now in the crashing waves, before joining her in the icy black water.

  For a moment I am surrounded, every inch of me bombarded by water. By darkness. It swirls and collides, pushes and pulls. Home, it whispers in my ear.

  My body is heavy in the water as it pulls me below.

  I shake my head of its hypnosis and kick myself up to the surface.

  I belong to the sea—that will always be true. Which is why I avoid it as much as possible. I suck in a breath of air the second I reach the surface and search for Whitley.

  Her blond hair is just visible in the distance, and I begin a brisk swim towards her. It's nearly a quarter mile swim to reach the shore, and I'm hoping she's a good enough swimmer to make it. The longer we stay in the water, the more likely the sirens will find us. I can't save Whitley if they find her in open water. I'd be powerless.

  My head spins at the thought. I push it away, because worrying won't help a thing. This is our only option. I reach her moments later, but she doesn't acknowledge me. She’s focused on keeping her head above water—it’s harder than it should be.

  Her dress, I realize, is pulling her own. Heavy and tangling her legs.

  "Wait," I tell her.

  She stops attempting a forward swim and treads as best she can, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright. God, she's beautiful. I could kiss her right now. I clench my jaw. What a terrible idea.

  Instead, I'm going to undress her. Wonderful.

  I swallow and swim up until I'm close enough to touch her, removing a knife from my boot in the same motion. The waves rush up and down, splashing in her face, but she keeps steady enough for me to cut the thick fabric of her dress and strings of her corset. She lets out a gasp as I pull several layers of her clothing apart, slipping into the depths, leaving only a thin cotton dress to cover her.

  She pulls the dress the rest of the way off, kicking the burden from her feet.

  "Better?" I ask, but I can't manage the smirk I'm so used to. All I can think of is her. So close. Her pull is stronger than the waves.

  Which is terrifying.

  She smiles and nods. I swim past her, hoping to God she can keep up, because right now my self-control is seriously lacking. We must get out of this water.

  I swim quickly, focused only on moving my body through the waves and towards the shore. Several minutes later, I look back to make sure I haven't lost her.

  She's only a dozen feet behind me, which is actually surprising, since I wasn't slowing down for her, and, well, being the son of a siren means I'm a pretty damn good swimmer. I don't give myself time to dwell on why she too would be an unnaturally quick swimmer. Instead I relish the fact that we'll be reaching safety faster than anticipated.

  We keep our quick pace until I can reach the sand with my feet. I let out a breath of relief and once again check to make sure she's not too far behind. She's farther back now, but she's showing no signs of distress, so I walk slowly until I reach the dry sand and flop down.

  I'm impressed she was able to do it entirely on her own—besides the whole gown incident. Any of my sailors I'd have expected to pull half the way.

  I keep an eye on the water as she comes closer, wondering what these next few days will be like. On a deserted island with Whitley. I don't have a plan for getting off this place. We're hidden from those that want to use and hurt us. Now we'll just have to hope we don't starve to death.

  Her shoulders are above the water as she walks slowly to the shore. To me.

  More of her body is exposed as she gets closer, and that soaking wet, thin white dress... doesn't conceal much.

  I stand as she comes closer. The moonlight casting a soft glow against her skin, every inch of my body buzzing in response. I realize the answer to my question—what will these days on an island with her be like? Because I can't say no. I can't avoid this.

  Especially now that I know she wants it too.

  I'm pulled towards her as she emerges from the water. Her breathing is labored, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, staring straight into mine. I meet her right where the last thin layer of water creeps up to the sand. Where dry meets wet. Rushing gently, then pulling away.

  She looks me in the eye but doesn't say anything. Doesn't move. I again look over her body, which is a terrible idea, because I cannot handle how amazing she looks. Water dripping over every inch of her.

  I should turn away.

  I step forward.

  I shouldn't touch her.

  Another step.

  I should resist.

  One more step, and now I'm close enough to reach her. My hands stay put, and instead I lean in close. She sucks in a breath, causing my whole body to shutter as my nose touches hers. I stop.

  This is how you fall. This is how you become trapped.

  And yet I know it's hopeless to resist. I need her.

  My hand drifts up to her neck, into the hair behind her head, and I pull her in, pressing her lips to mine. She grabs me and pulls me in tighter, so our hips are pressed together. She groans, this time no mistaking the pleasure behind the sound.

  And just like that, I'm a goner.

  Whitley

  Bluff is everywhere. He's everything.

  The island is so dark I can't see a thing. I can only feel. And what I feel is Bluff's lips on mine, his tongue. His hands on my back. In my hair.

  We fall to the ground, coarse sand scraping against all the exposed skin. He kisses my neck and I feel like I could die at how good it feels. Pleasure streaks down my back and to my legs. How much I want more.

  "Whitley," he moans in my ear. "I—"

  Then suddenly the feeling is gone. He pulls back, his body hovering over me, and breathing heavily. His eyes are wide in panic, and it makes my heart beat even faster—if that’s possible.

  "Bluff?"

  He presses his forehead to mine, closing his fearful eyes. “We should get some rest. It'll be light soon," he says between gasps for breath.

  I glance behind him at the horizon, which is still pitch black. No sign of the sun on its way. Is that an excuse? I sit up as he plops down on the sand next to me, working to catch his breath. I want to ask him if I did something wrong. I want to ask him why he stopped. I want to throw myself onto him and not let him go.

  But I don't.

  Instead, I lay back down and stare up at the star-scattered sky with unblinking eyes, working to calm my wound-up body and keep my frustration from overflowing. Eventually, I close my tired eyes and allow my stiff muscles to relax as I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

  Bluff

  My whole body is buzzing as I sit beside her, mind spinning.

  I can't believe I did that—the kiss or stopping the kiss.

  I thought that was it, me giving in. I thought it was over. But then as she kissed me, as she grasped at me, pulled me, like I was water and she was dying of thirst.

  She will control the Son of the Sea, cause him to fall.

  It was then that I realized I’d almost done it. I’d almost fallen.

  Those words sat on the edge of my tongue like an inevitable curse. I knew the moment they were uttered it would be clasping the shackles around my wrist permanently. Whitley would hold the key, and I can't let her have that much power.

  Maybe it’s already too late.

  I press fists to my eyes and suppress a groan of frustration.

  I could have her—right now. My whole body aches at that thought. She wouldn't tell me no. I could feel how much she wants me, how desperate she is—

  And I was desperate too.

  If it was just that, just two bodies that wanted each other, it wouldn't be so hard. It feels stupid. Why not just give in? I’ve los
t already anyway. How long can I really resist for?

  And yet, I sit here, not moving. Knowing I disappointed her.

  I do care about her. As much as I don't want to, as much as I don't want to admit it. Why must this connection with her be so heavy? So burdensome.

  Why does it have to mean my own life or death?

  I long for a different life. One without bribes and betrayals. One without a mother who doesn't know how to love. One without prophecies or supernatural creatures and powers. One where I was a boy who liked a girl, and that was all there was to it.

  I close my eyes and imagine myself in tailcoat and trousers, holding my hand out to Whitley in a pretty gown and pinned up hair. I nearly laugh out loud. Then I shake my head of the image and try again.

  Me on a ship, sword at my hip and Whitley with her hair wild and flowing in the wind, loose men's blouse and leather pants. That's more me. And more her, too. I let my mind go farther, thinking of all the things we could do with that much freedom. With no one to tell us no. No one to care. And no destruction waiting on the other side of the door.

  It seems such an impossibility. How could we ever defeat all our enemies? They're everywhere. Even fate itself seems against us.

  Is there any way we can be together without it destroying us?

  Whitley

  It's painful to force my eyes open. They’re dry and stiff, the sun so immensely bright.

  I groan and roll to hide my face from the light, only to realize that gives me a face full of sand.

  I spit and pull my head away from the ground. Sand is everywhere, sticking to every inch of my body. Or at least it feels that way. I blink rapidly to pull my mind back into focus.

  Waves rush up to a beautiful sandy beach not far from my feet, beyond which is pure ocean. There’s nothing else in view but water and sky. The beach reaches a mile or so in each direction. Behind me is forest.

  Last night comes rushing back. We escaped The Freedom and our future rendezvous with Stede. Bluff and I swam to shore and then... Heat rushes to my cheeks. It was only a kiss.

  An amazing, mind bending—rather long—kiss. But I don't know what any of this means. I don't know what happens now. On the island or with Bluff.

  Now I don't even know where he is.

  My skirt is bunched on the side, and sand itches my skin, even from the inside my clothes. My hair is plastered to my neck. Sleeping on the beach sounds a lot more luxurious than it is. I adjust the skirt of my chemise—all that’s left of my ensemble—and try to brush some of the sand from my chest.

  Then, I turn towards the forest behind me, unsure what kinds of creatures, if any, would live in such a place. Twisting brown vines and green leaves, so much brighter than any I've seen before, block the view of anything more. How deep does it go? I step into the shadow of the towering trees, and it gives my skin immediate relief from the hot sun.

  There's a rustle of movement inside the brush a few feet in, and my heart stops, like it too is listening for more. I wait, eyes pinned to the spot where I saw something.

  The rustling grows louder, closer. I gasp as Bluff immerges from between the vines. He smiles, his eyes shining. "Good, you're awake. I was worried you'd lay in the sun too long."

  "Is the sun bad?" I ask. I'd heard it can be, but most of the worry my father had was about how it affects your appearance. Fair is fashionable, apparently. I for one, like the look of tanned skin. Especially on Bluff.

  "Too much of it is.”

  I nod. I suppose that's true about most things. If not all.

  I look down and notice Bluff holding onto a cluster of strange brown fruit. Or are they nuts? He notices my gaze and holds them up like a prize he won. "I have breakfast."

  "What are they?"

  "Coconuts. They'll give us a bit of hydration and energy until we can find fresh water."

  No water. That doesn't sound good. Bluff doesn't seem overly concerned about that issue though. Instead he cuts a branch of the tree at the edge of the forest into a sharp point with the same knife that ripped my dress off before our swim to shore. Then he punches the coconut into the point and rips it down, creating a large opening. He chugs from the round object like it's an oddly shaped bottle.

  I raise my eyebrows as he hands it to me. "It's good," he tells me.

  The coconut is heavy and rough in my hands. The brown substance that covers the outside feels like the coarse hair of an animal. I press it to my lips and slowly tip it back until the liquid flows into my mouth. Somewhere between milk and water, the taste is sweet but odd. I drink more, because I know I should.

  "So what now?" I ask.

  Bluff gives me an unsure smile. "We make a shelter, fire, and find food. Survive."

  "For the rest of our lives? Are we getting off this island?"

  Bluff's shoulders sag before he shrugs. "One step at a time. It was a long shot enough to get off the ship. Now let's make sure we don't die of dehydration or whatever other dangers lay here. Then we'll figure out escape plan number two. At least with this one we don't have a strict deadline."

  I nod. "All right. Tell me how to help."

  Bluff smirks. "The princess wants to get her hands dirty?"

  I roll my eyes. "I've never been a princess, as much as my father wanted to make me one."

  "You were pretty close," he says, eyes now cast at the ground behind me, like he's afraid to meet my gaze. His voice is gentle, and I almost wonder if that was a compliment rather than an insult.

  "Yes, I want to help," I say instead of pushing it.

  Bluff shows me where to find palm fronds and instructs me to gather as many of them as possible. Apparently, that's what we'll use to make our sleeping area. He also tells me to keep an eye out for any type of dry wood or kindling. I have only a vague concept of what that means, but I smile and nod anyway.

  A few hours later, I drop on to the sand next to a huge pile of palm leaves, face red and hair damp from sweat. Bluff puts his hand on his hip, his expression full of amusement. "Tired?" he asks.

  "Haven't slept in days. It's hot as hell here and I just worked for hours straight. Yes, I'm tired."

  He takes a seat next to me in the shaded sand and holds out another coconut. "Tomorrow I'll dig a hole to get some water."

  I take the coconut and chug.

  "And you slept pretty good last night. Stayed asleep well into the morning."

  "But what time did we actually go to sleep? It was nearly morning by the time we rested."

  He doesn't respond to this. I hope he's thinking about what happened after we arrived at the beach.

  I look out to the nearby water. Blue waves crash against the sand. I bet that water is cool, maybe even cold. How incredible would that feel right now—

  "Time for a swim?"

  He turns to me, eyebrows raised in surprise. I hold out my hand and he reluctantly takes it. Immediately, I pull him up and rush over the sandy beach until we're at the water. Bluff lets go of my hand, pulls off his shirt, then sprints into the water, diving into one of the waves.

  I can't help but smile, though the sight of his bare skin makes my cheeks warm. Water laps up over my toes. I close my eyes and feel the moment—the beauty of the scene, the feel of wind blowing through my hair—and as I step deeper into the ocean before me, the water that cools my whole body.

  I open my eyes and a few feet away Bluff watches me, entirely still. His expression is hard to read. Watchful. Hopeful, perhaps.

  "What?"

  He shrugs, his soft eyes never leaving mine. "I like watching you experience things."

  My lip curls up on one side. "There are so many things I was never allowed to do. Being a princess and all." I roll my eyes at his nickname for me.

  "There were also things only people like you could experience."

  I nod slowly. "I doubt those things are worth the cost, though."

  Bluff rubs his jaw, and I find myself watching his hand. Why is he so standoffish with me still? Like he's afraid. Something
seemed to change last night, but then it didn't. He no longer has the excuse of thinking I don't want him back. He knows I want him.

  How do I break through to him?

  I bite my lip, considering. I know what I want. Why must I wait for him to instigate? I step closer. He doesn't move. Closer. Our eyes are still in contact. Soon, our chests are only inches apart.

  His breathing grows faster, but he doesn't move.

  There are so many things to consider, so many ways to play this. Things I want to ask. Things I'm desperate for him to do. But I'm so tired of waiting. So tired of wondering.

  He's taller than me, so when I kiss him, I leap to reach his lips. He catches me around the waist, holding me up to him. Only a moment later, I pull my lips away from his, but his hands don't let me go.

  "Can I ask you something?"

  His nose touches mine softly and he closes his eyes. "Anything. I'm so tired of secrets."

  "Why are you so afraid to want me?"

  He clenches his jaw and he gently places me back into the water, where I plant my feet firmly into the sand.

  "I'm afraid of losing control."

  "Control of what?"

  "Everything. I...." He runs his hand though his hair. "Loving someone is dangerous. It leaves you vulnerable. The deeper I get with you, the more I realize I can't control even myself. I was so determined to stay away. So determined to beat fate. How stupid is that?"

  I want to ask him what he means by 'beat fate,' but I'm more caught up in his mention of love.

  "Do you love me?"

  He blinks rapidly. "I don't know. What does love even mean?"

  I bite my lip. "I don't know."

  "Will what I feel for you fade? Or will it grow even stronger? And if it goes away, when will that happen? In a week? A year?” He pauses, closing his eyes. “Never?" he whispers.

  I bite the inside of my lip, watching his expression shift like the waves.

  "But I'm not supposed to love you. I shouldn't. I..." He slams his hand into the water, I flinch from the splash. "What if loving you destroys me?"