Sea of Treason (Pirate's Bluff Book 1)

by Stacey Trombley

  I shake my head. So much more confused now than I was at the start of this conversation.

  "Why would it?"

  "Because that's what everyone wants. To use you against me. That's what they're all trying to do. Make this—you— be my downfall."

  He turns his back to me, looking out into the open water.

  “Why would they think that?” They wanted me first for my father. When did it become about my relationship with Bluff? And how did they see it before I did?

  “There’s a prophecy.” His voice is so quiet as he says it.

  “About me?” I ask, eyes wide.

  He nods. “And me. It’s vague, but given the events of the last few weeks it does seem point to whatever is between us being the catalyst.”

  My mind spins at his words. So confused. What does it mean? What is this prophecy exactly? I step forward and let my fingers drift over his bare back. He shivers but doesn't move as I run my hands over his shoulders and down. I hate his pain.

  The rest of it feels pointless. I don’t care about a prophecy or whatever anyone else assumes. I only care about this. About him.

  "Bluff," I whisper.

  He doesn't respond.

  "Nalin," I try again.

  He turns to me, brokenness shining through his grey eyes.

  He steps forward and closes his eyes as his forehead touches mine.

  "Can I ask you something?" he says quietly.

  "Of course."

  "Why do you want me?"

  I try to meet his eyes, but they're still closed. I pause, wondering how to answer such a question. I shrug. "Because I do. Do you want attributes that I like about you? Do you want me to explain how you make me feel?"

  He sighs. "I don't know. I just, I need a reason to trust you."

  "Did I ever give you reason not to?"

  "No, but..."

  "But you're not used to trusting anyone," I say, that truth settling in my chest. He doesn't like to be vulnerable. I can only imagine the pain he's experienced in his past. "I'm not that complicated, Bluff. You showed me a kind of freedom I hadn't dared to hope for. I want that, not money or power or whatever else pirates fight for. I just want happiness. I just want you."

  His hand grips behind my head tightly, but otherwise doesn't move.

  "You said you don't want to lose control,” I whisper. “But aren't you letting fear control you now? None of those people, those enemies, are here.”

  He steps closer so that our bodies are touching. His fingers tremble.

  "It's just you and me," I whisper. "We might never make it off this island, so why should the rest of it even matter?"

  His lips turn up into a small smile. "I have a better justification," he says. His voice is still quiet, but the slightest bit of amusement leaks into the sound.

  I raise my eyebrows, waiting.

  "It's too late," he says. "I’m already lost. I’m a fool to think I can resist someone as incredible as you." His face inches nearer, his lips so achingly close to mine.

  My smile grows larger, just before his lips collide with mine.

  Bluff

  I don't pull away this time. I won't. I don't even care about everything else. Whitley is beautiful. Whitley is incredible, and I'm not giving that up for fear of some stupid prophecy.

  I let this moment be my everything. Her body, her passion, her hopes. Her desperation for me.

  This pull, I realize for the first time, is not like the pull of the sea. The sea wants me, so it can use me. So it can toss me in its waves, form me to its desires. Whitley, on the other hand needs me as much as I need her. She doesn't want to use me. She wants me to fill her the way she fills me. We're equals in this.

  I trust her, and that realization hits me harder than desire ever could.

  WHITLEY SITS CROSS-legged in the sand, skirt bunched and pushed off to the side, exposing bits of her legs, as she braids together strips of palm fronds into a sort of rope. I should be doing the same, but instead find myself sitting behind her, playing with her hair, kissing her neck, whispering into her ear.

  She laughs lightly and tells me I should be working, but she leans her head to the left, giving me more space to kiss and touch her neck and shoulder.

  "I agree. I should be working. You're doing such a good job though." The rope in her hands unravels.

  She leans back so her head is resting on my shoulder and sighs. "Perhaps time for another swim?"

  My cheeks hurt from smiling but I look up to the sky. The sun is getting discomfortingly close to the horizon. "No,” I say too quickly. “It'll be dark before we know it and I really want to have this shelter built before then.” There are dark clouds visible in the distance, still far off, and I'm hoping the storm doesn't reach us, but if it does, we'll need some kind of cover. “And you really shouldn’t swim alone,” I add under my breath. There are no signs of sirens about, and they are unlikely to come into shallow areas where their power is weakened, but without knowing their full intentions it’s better to be safe.

  "All right." Her words are light, but her eyes betray her disappointment.

  "We can swim together later."

  I force my body up and into action. The quicker I complete our shelter, the more time I can spend with her.

  I've already cut down all the branches we'll need. We have a pile of fronds. It's really only a matter of tying the structure together and then covering it with leaves. I ask Whitley's help to hold the branches that will act as beams while I use the twine to tie it together. Then we do the next side. I'm careful to use the cordage I made on the places that will have the most stress.

  "Have you thought much about how we'll get off this island?"

  I look up to Whitley, who’s wiping her hands on her dress. "Not really. I've been... distracted." My eyes leave her body to meet her eyes.

  She smiles at the look I give her. The shelter is only half complete, but I approach her until we’re only inches apart. I look her straight in the eye. "I don't know about you," I tell her as I reach up, running light fingers over her collarbone, up to her neck. "But I'm not actually eager to leave this place." I take another step until my lips are just grazing hers. She smiles again and my stomach summersaults. It's a feeling I've become used to since I first laid eyes on her. At first, I hated it. Now I can't get enough.

  "Everything is so simple here. Just you and me. Nothing else to get in the way."

  "I suppose here isn't so bad," she says, as she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me into a deep kiss.

  I push her up against a palm tree, my chest against hers, and relish the gasp she lets out and kiss her harder. A few moments later, I pull back laughing. "You are such a distraction."

  "What?" she asks drowsily.

  "We're supposed to be working on the shelter." Right on cue, lightning brightens the sky in the distance followed by a small rumble. I'm not used to witnessing many storms on the sea, as fair weather is a sign of welcome whenever I'm sailing. On land, I don't get the same treatment, and I suppose this tiny island is still land, technically. But considering it’s surrounded entirely by ocean, no civilization in sight, it hardly feels it. The sea is mere feet from us. I would have thought that would mean most of the same protections I get on a ship.

  Apparently not so much, because those black clouds are approaching rather quickly.

  Either that, or this is some kind of warning.

  "Quickly," I tell Whitley. "Pile the palms onto the top of the structure." The top is tilted down so that water will mostly run off. The bottom is lifted off the ground a few inches so that even if the ground puddles a bit, we'll stay dry. Now I'm just hoping it doesn't rise more than a few inches, because I didn't prepare for that.

  While Whitley covers the canopy, I work on finishing the bottom. Then I aid her and make sure as many of the palms are tied down as possible so the wind won't blow too many away. We finish just as the first rain drops fall.

  For a moment Whitley tilts her head up towards the s
ky, letting the water hit her face.

  I watch silently. I find it amazing how every simple thing is magical to her. New. So much of her life has been suppressed. It makes me regret how I thought of her when we first met.

  The splattering of rain raises to a crescendo, pounding on the leaves above.

  We sit in our little shelter, just watching the sky darken into night, listening to the thunder as it rises louder and louder. A few drops of cold water flow through our makeshift ceiling here and there, but so far it’s working out well enough. I don't know how comfortable of a night it will be, though. We have a long time until the sun rises.

  I consider the beautiful woman next to me and realize I know exactly how to make the most of it. I grab Whitley's waist and pull her onto my lap. She gasps and then giggles as she falls into my kiss.

  The storm rages around us, but so long as we survive the night, I would be an idiot to complain for even a second.

  Whitley

  The air was chilled the whole night. Water dripping through the canopy grew heavier and colder as the night went on. Bluff and I lay together, my head on his chest, arms twisted together, keeping each other warm. Or maybe that was just the excuse.

  Either way, I was warmer touching him.

  The sun rises early in the morning and I still find myself exhausted, not really wanting to get out of our makeshift bed.

  "The sun is out now. We can warm up on the beach," Bluff tells me and pulls me up. We walk out towards the water and sit in the sand. The sun casts its light on our skin, warming us quickly.

  "Well, we survived our first storm."

  I nod and look down at my tattered dress, now more brown than white. "I wonder what my father would think of me."

  "Do you care?"

  I shake my head. "Not at all. He'd call me a barbarian. Dirty. Worthless. I don't even know what else."

  "His words are worthless," Bluff spits out.

  I nod. "He'd never realize, or care, how happy I am. He only ever cared how we looked to others. My happiness didn’t hold any value."

  Bluff grabs for my hand. "My mother never cared either. It's rare in my world to find someone who does, actually."

  I pause, thinking of the things the crew implied about Bluff and his lineage. Was it true? Could it be?

  "You've never talked about your family before."

  Bluff goes totally still. Even his expression is icy cold. "I don't like to."

  "Right. Sorry," I say, pulling my hand into my lap.

  His sad eyes turn towards me. "I didn't mean that I wouldn't tell you."

  "I know. I didn't... You don't have to tell me. I won't be mad. I'm not." I put my hand back into his.

  "It's complicated."

  "Are they human?"

  Bluff doesn't react to this. "My father was. He didn't live past my conception. I often wonder what kind of person he was. My mother wouldn't have cared one way or another."

  My heart aches. "She's a siren?" It only makes sense, after everything I know and what he just said. It explains his connection to the sirens, why the crew would fear him so much, and think he could be capable of calling them....

  He nods, looking out at the sea. "She has no heart. Not like a human does. Dropped me off on some ship as an infant and let me figure it out from there."

  "It’s surprising you survived at all."

  He shrugs. "She probably made sure it was with people who would take care of me. But she never wanted to raise me. She's only tried to use me for her own gains."

  "I suppose I can relate to that."

  He gives me a sad smile.

  "I know we're not eager to get off the island." I give him a side-eye. I understand what he means— it is incredibly liberating to be here alone. No one to judge us or get between us. Nothing to stop us from just being together. But I'd also like some actual food. Perhaps a bed with sheets? Some kind of future would be nice. "But what will happen once we do? Where do we go? What do we do?" Another question hangs on the edge of my lips but I'm not sure I want to ask it. Is his future mine? Does he plan to stay with me? Build a life with me? Or does he want to board another pirate ship, and sail off without me?

  "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

  My eyebrows pull down. "What does that mean?"

  He smiles. "My whole life, I've only ever thought about weeks ahead. I don't have a life plan. I don't even really have goals. I just live."

  I frown at this. "You don't have dreams? Things you want?"

  He shrugs. "I want adventure. I want freedom. I want friendships. But those can come in so many different ways."

  I purse my lips. Should I think more like that? Maybe my desire for structure, a specific plan, comes out of fear. This world isn't exactly set for a young girl to do whatever she pleases. I need some place to go, some purpose in order to survive—don't I?

  "What do you want?" he asks me. "Some kind of life like the one you last lost? Or something else?"

  I shrug. "No. I don't know."

  "Do you... want to be a pirate?" he asks, a smirk playing at his lips.

  I can't help but smile back. "Do you think I could be?"

  "Why not? You're strong enough. Brave enough. That's all it takes, really."

  I consider this. "What ship? We couldn't really go back to The Freedom, could we?"

  “Perhaps we could make our own crew. Together."

  My heart flutters at that thought. "Really?"

  "Why not? If it's something you think you'd want."

  I smile. I don't know if it's the permanent future I'd want, but I love the idea. The power. The fact that Bluff and I would do it, start something new, together.

  "Sure."

  "It's a plan, then."

  We sit there, fingers intertwined for several more minutes. I picture this new dream: tossing my corsets and dresses in the middle of the ocean and sailing away on a ship with Bluff.

  "I should head back farther on the island and see if I can get us some fresh water. We'll need more than coconut water soon. Wait here for me?”

  He leaves me alone on the beach, off to the jungle to ensure our survival. My heart is full. Stranded on an island in the middle of the nowhere. No food or water. No one even knows where we are. I'm pretty sure this is a worst fear for some people. I've never been happier.

  The sun is rising higher now, its rays stronger and hotter than before. Amazing how we can nearly freeze overnight but be boiled alive during the day. I look out at the cool water rushing up to the sandy beach, imagining it over my skin.

  Bluff mentioned something about not swimming alone, but perhaps just a quick dip of my feet wouldn’t hurt.

  I enter the water slowly. Salty miniature waves rush over my toes, and I delight in how it chills my body instantly, even making me shiver. Then I stop, just watching the water ripple in the distance.

  I remember once thinking the water in Carolina was incredible, but it was nothing compared to this. The color is somewhere between blue and green but still crystal clear. My mind drifts, peace washing over me until I hardly remember where I am. Who I am.

  The crashing of the waves transforms into soft song. Beautiful. Alluring.

  I blink back a haze over my mind and realize I’m waist deep in the water. When did I go this far? Just a moment ago I’d simply put my feet in. Why don’t I remember stepping forward?

  A large shadow shifts through the waves and I shake my head. My heartbeat accelerates, and I struggle to focus. What was that? Had I imagined it?

  I look around from the surface but only see the sun glinting off the ripples in purples and pinks and oranges and other colors I can't even name.

  A sweet melody floats through the waves, with the waves, pulling me forward. Panic fills my chest for only a moment before every muscle in my body relaxes.

  Bluff

  Sweat pours from my face as I dig a hole beneath the trees, hoping if I go far enough, I'll find water. I don't actually know how deep that will be. While I also know if I dig t
oo far, I'll likely come to salt-contaminated water. Not drinkable. I've never been stranded on an island like this before, so it's all theory to me. I'm just hoping it works.

  The only other time I found myself on a small island, I was much closer to larger land, with an entire crew—our ship had run aground—and was able to get a message to another ship via a siren. I'm not exactly on friendly terms with sirens at the moment, nor do I trust them. I don't know what their role is in all of this, but they've implied they too find value in Whitley, so I don't even want them to know where I am. Which makes getting off this island much trickier. How do I get a message somewhere without also signaling the wrong people?

  The dirt turns to mud as I dig, and I can feel victory just on the edge of the thin stone I'm using as a shovel. I just hope it's fresh, not salty.

  Wind wisps through my hair gently—a familiar feeling that makes me pause. I listen. Leaves rustle around me. Waves crash in the distance.

  Bluff, the wind whispers into my ear.

  "What?" I ask harshly. Not in the mood for siren games today.

  Tsk tsk. Salty, are we? It’s halfway between a wisp and a solid voice now. I thought you'd be happy to hear from me.

  I swallow and clench my jaw. "You thought wrong. How are you even here? We're in the middle of an island." My mother is very old—hundreds of years, I’d guess. Her siren magic is powerful, her human blood weak. It’s impossible for her to take corporal form on land. Even just this is a risk. One I’m surprised she’d take.

  "Just small enough for me to reach you." Her form is still mostly transparent, but I can see her hair flowing like it's under water, her coloring like a rainbow glistening in the sun. That's as solid as she can get, I'm sure, this far from the sea. She can't touch us here—that much is a comfort to me.

  "Wonderful." I wonder about the storm then. If sirens can reach me this far into the island, why was a storm raging here as well? It means my theory of being close enough to the sea is correct. The other option isn't a good one.