“Where’s the tavern?” I ask the first man I see.
He narrows his eyes, puffing a pipe at me. “You’ll want the Rusty Ridge, down alley to the right. Old red door. No sign.”
“That the only one?”
“No. But it’s the only one that ‘ll serve the likes a you.”
Well, that sounds promising. “Thank you,” I say and follow his direction.
THE TAVERN IS DARK and musty, with billowing smoke that hits me in the face the moment I open the door. Inside it’s quiet. A few unsavory bearded fellows turn their unfriendly eyes to me as I enter.
“What’s your business, boy?” the barmaid asks. She’s heavyset, the shadow of hair under her chin.
I approach, eyes darting around to keep up my part. If I’m a twelve-year-old boy, I’d be unaccustomed to this kind of place. Probably.
“Looking for someone,” I say quietly.
“Who might that be?” she asks, annoyed. She gives a look at the pair of men at the nearest table, then smiles.
“A young woman. Pretty. Dark hair, dark skin. Don’t mess with her.”
Her eyebrows raise. “In a place like this?”
“This is where she’d be.”
She shakes her head. “No one fitting that description been here for weeks.”
I purse my lips as my stomach turns. That’s no good.
“There’s a blonde though,” one of the men says, then both of them snicker.
“Blonde?” I ask, blood running cold.
“Spends her time up town, though. Might find her in the Red Hornet.”
“I’ll try it. Thank you,” I say then run from the dark bar. My breathing is heavy as I stop in the alley. Could it be Whitley? Is she alone? I’m certain this is where Rosemera would be. She’s not with her father’s crew, so it’s possible Robert and Whitley would prefer the nicer tavern in town, but she knows this is where I’d coming looking, so at the very least, she’d leave them a message.
Maybe it’s not Whitley at all. Maybe they didn’t make it. Had to change course for some reason. Maybe they were attacked and I just haven’t heard yet. My hands shake. I hate this anxiety. I’m so close. So close to finding her. Touching her. Holding her.
Please. Please. Please let them be all right.
I rush up town, scurrying through the buildings, zigging in and out until I’m out of reach of the fish smell at the port. The flowers are planted and taken care of.
“’Scuse me. Where’s the nearest tavern?” I ask a woman selling roses from a basket, hoping she won’t turn me away for my size and hygiene.
She looks me up and down. “What you want with a place like that?” she asks.
“I’m looking for someone.”
She tilts her head. “Mama?” she asks.
I bite my lip. “Pa,” I say because it’s more believable.
She nods knowingly. “Around the corner.” She points to a hill to the right.
“Thank you!” I say, rushing down the road. Almost there. Just let it be her. Let them be all right.
I push my way through the solid oak door decorated with clean glass. It’s still darker than outside, and smoke smacks me as usual, but the laughter and chatter are much warmer.
Inside, a few glances turn in my direction, but most patrons mind their business. A group of older women in bonnets sit in the corner playing cards. A group of bearded men in tailored jackets smoke cigars and chuckle heartily. Several young men eye the bar maids.
There, in the corner of the room I see the back of a slender blonde woman’s head. My heart lifts. But it drops all the same as I study her— she’s wearing a cotton blouse, leather vest and pants and hefty boots. Nothing I’ve ever seen Whitley even consider wearing.
But, then again, she did spend several days with Rosemera. She is on the run, so perhaps she decided to dress the part? Seems wise, but it’s also such a foreign concept. Whitley in pants with a sword at her belt. I smile at the thought.
She’s still a huge mystery to me. What will I get when I find her? Will she know who I am? Will she hate me? I pull in a long breath, reminding myself I have a lot to make up for. No matter what I get when I find her, I will fight for her.
I walk closer, still unable to get a good look at her face. There’s a muscular young man leaning against the bar beside her, and easy smile on his face. Flirting.
I narrow my eyes and sneak closer. Listening. Watching.
“I told you, I’m waiting for someone.”
“You been here three days and he ain’t shown yet.”
She smirks and my stomach squeezes, her lips just barely coming into view. Lips I know. They smile. I swallow.
“You need something?” a woman at the bar asks me. I blink and look up at her forgetting that I’m still in ratty twelve-year-old boy’s body.
“Oh. Um.”
Whitley gives the man a look, her glistening eyes piercing. Sharp as nails.
She’s incredibly beautiful, but only a fool wouldn’t be terrified.
“Whoa there,” the woman at the bar says, waving a hand at me to get my attention. I ignore her. Watching.
“Shove,” Whitley says in a near growl, “off.”
My stomach sinks at her tone. For a moment it crosses my mind that she’d kill him right on the spot. She’s not in the water, but she’s a siren just the same.
The man flinches, leaning back. Instinct finally kicking in. He stomps away in anger and I can’t help but smile. “Who’s she?” I ask the annoyed barmaid. My heart soars, my head spinning in the best way possible.
“Not sure. Been here a few days. Brings in lots of customers, and then sends them all packing.” She shrugs.
I raise my eyebrows as I watch her. She still hasn’t noticed me. But then again, why would she?
“What do you need, little one?”
I blink, turning back to the barmaid with a smile. “Nothing. Looking for my brother. Doesn’t look like he’s here.”
She nods. “Best get out, then.”
I nod and scurry from the tavern. I rush around the corner, find a spot behind a stack of firewood where no prying eyes will see as I shift back into my true self. My clothes match hers: traveling leather boots, pants and white cotton shirt, a pistol in its holster slung over my shoulder.
Then I reenter the tavern. I approach the bar nearest the door and sit.
“What’ll it be?” the barmaid asks without another glance in my direction.
“Whatever ale you have available. Make it two. One for me. One for her.” I nod at the beautiful woman across the way.
She raises her eyebrows. “She’ll take your drink, but you won’t get nothing else. Too many have tried to expect anything different.”
I shrug. “Money well spent.”
She nods and pours our two drinks and sets them both in front of me. “Would you like to do the honors?” she asks with a flat voice and bored eyes. I wonder how many times in the last few days she’s been doing the same thing.
“I’ll do it.” I smile, taking the drinks and leaving three coins on the bar, crossing the room towards Whitley.
“Yeah right,” one of the young men says as I pass them. “If he gets anywhere, I’ll eat my shoe.” I’m almost tempted to make that bet. I’d love to see it. But my eyes are only for her.
I set the drink in front of her. She stares at the drink for a long moment, her expression as bored as the barmaid’s, before turning to look me in the eye. She freezes. Blinks.
“Ahoy there,” I say, not able to hold back my grin. God I’ve missed her. And damn if she isn’t the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. As much as I’ve been given a pretty shitty lot in life, right now I can’t help but feel lucky as hell that she’s mine.
If that’s still true, that is.
“Where the hell have you been?” she says, her piercing eyes still menacing, but I don’t wince. I won’t. I’m too happy to be here.
“It’s been an interesting few days.”
S
he smiles. “It’s been an interesting few weeks.”
I laugh at that. “Isn’t that the truth?”
“Everything all right?” she asks.
I nod, eyes not leaving her. I lean in closer, pulled in by her gravity. Her cheeks grow warmer, red speckling them.
Her eye soften, lips part. “I’ve been waiting quite a while.”
“So I’ve heard. You have this place in a tizzy.”
She rolls her eyes. “Lads won’t leave me alone.”
“Would you like to make them?”
She swallows and looks down at her drink. “I’ve been trying to... resist.”
I nod slowly, not liking that implication. But then again, it’s a very good sign she hasn’t killed when it would have been easy.
“I had something else in mind,” I tell her.
She raises her eyebrows.
I step forward as she twists to face me. My hands settle on her waist, I pull her forward until her feet hit the ground, and I press my hips against hers, leg hitched on the bar beside her. She gasps. My nose touches hers, gently.
She closes her eyes and breathes in long and deep.
God, she’s beautiful.
I run my hands up her thighs, and she sucks in a breath. Finally, my lips meet hers, softly at first. Then she reacts, pushing into me. Open mouth, inviting me in.
“No way,” someone says behind us.
The barmaid laughs.
Everything else falls away as I’m lost in Whitley. The way her body reacts—back arching, her moans of pleasure I missed so much—has my mind spinning. I’m not usually one for public kissing, but this was too much fun to pass up. And the excuse to pull her into my arms right her and now is rather welcome.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she says again in a gasp. Her hand tangles through my hair.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I tell her.
She bites my lip, and I taste blood. No one ever said kissing a siren wasn’t a dangerous affair.
Whitley
I can’t believe he’s here. Bluff is here.
My mind spins, body moving on instinct. His lips are on mine. His body pressed into me.
Mine.
Then I taste blood and my heart seizes. I rip my body away and wipe my bottom lip. My finger comes away red.
He grins, though, as a thin line of blood pools on his bottom lip. “Sorry,” I say sheepishly.
“Don’t be.” His eyes have not lost one ounce of their fire, and it raises another blush. Making your lover bleed isn’t supposed to be part of the deal. But it doesn’t seem to bother him, so I take a moment to taste it. I lick my lip, savoring the flavor.
“The hell is this?”
One of the idiotic boys from earlier steps forward, chest puffed out. They’re all larger than Bluff, in height and weight. They approach, towering over him. Do they somehow think that matters?
“This is who you’ve been waiting for? Or did you just settle for whoever was nearby when you gave up?”
Bluff rolls his eyes, but anger burns in them.
“Don’t be pissy just because you lost,” Bluff says.
“You really think she’d choose you over me?” big boy says, chest puffed out.
“I think I already did.” I say, not missing a beat.
“Come on, sweat pea,” he says to me. “I can give you way more than he could.”
My lip curls as I strangle him with my thoughts. You. Don’t. Own. Me. You have no right to me. I choose who I want. And I want him. “Sorry, sweet pea. You’re not my type.” I growl.
The big man-boy places his hand on arm, and everything stops. My blood goes ice cold, rage filling everything that I am. But it’s not me that acts first.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” Bluff growls. I pause, raising my eyebrows at his reaction. I find I quite like it.
Bluff’s fist flies into his jaw. I spin away from the fight, shocked at how quickly it escalated. Bluff twists behind him before he stumbles back to throw his own punch and shoves his foot between his feet and pulls. The arrogant fool falls to his knees with a grotesque grunt.
But then another set of arms is around Bluff from behind. Three more men are on him. No! Panic seizes me, and before I know what’s happening, magic soars from my body.
The only thing I can think is that no one touches him but me.
He’s mine.
My vision goes as black as my anger rises to a crescendo.
Bluff
Here I am, enjoying a good old-fashioned bar fight—I’m outnumbered, but I’ve been there more times than I can count—when a siren song blasts from Whitley’s body. Not soft and beautiful, but shrieking. Exploding.
Several bodies fall to the floor. Screams echo. Those unaffected by the initial wave of power scramble to escape the bar. I leap to my feet and grab Whitley by the arm, pulling her from the building.
Magic ripples off of her in waves, but her feet move as I prompt her. I run, with her behind me, until we’re at the edge of town. The screams have faded into the background, and I press her against the wall of an alley, hands gently on her cheeks.
“Look at me, Whitley.”
She blinks, her eyes clearing into a bright blue. My shoulders relax. The euphoria of seeing her again sends every fear to the back of my mind.
“What happened?” she whispers.
“Ahh, well, you went a little siren back there.”
“Did I kill anyone?” she asks. Her voice is steady but the look in her eye tells me she’s concerned. Guilty. She’s certainly changed since her time in New York.
“No.”
She swallows and nods. “So what happened?”
“You knocked a few people to the ground with your magic, and I pulled you away before anything else happened. But, well, there are a lot of people looking for us, and that was exactly the kind of mishap they’ll certainly hear about.”
“Right,” she says in a whisper. “What do we do now?”
I suck in a breath. “For now? We run.”
I CHANGE MY FORM INTO that of a grey-haired man and steal new clothes for Whitley. A simple blue dress and matching bonnet. I stand watch in our little alley while she changes. I find I miss the pirate look on her, but know with a little luck and some time I’ll have the chance to see her like that again.
We rush to the northern reach of town and book a carriage. Whispers fly through the streets of the brawl in the Red Hornet. It apparently isn’t the sort of place for such distasteful things to happen. But still, no deaths helped the ripple of rumors remain small. Contained. Life continued as normal. This aided in us staying undetected by the average citizen, but I don’t for a second think were safe.
The mob is coming. Stede is coming. I can practically feel them closing in.
Within the hour we’re on a carriage travelling west.
Once we’re settled and my heart has slowed to an easy beat, I ask a question I should have asked the moment I saw her. I was simply distracted. Which is a terrible excuse, making me an awful friend.
“Where is Rosemera? What happened?”
“They sailed ahead without me.”
I open my mouth, shocked. She wouldn’t have done that. Unless... “What did you do?”
She turns quickly, rage in her eyes. “Nothing. What do you think I would have done?”
I swallow and look away. I don’t want to accuse her of something and don’t feel at all inclined to remind her of her deeds before we separated. “I’m just trying to understand why Rosemera would leave you behind.”
There’s a long pause. Thick with tension. She’s mad at me.
“She was drawing off the sirens so I could still meet you.”
I bite my lip. “They were following you?”
She nods. “She helped in an elaborate scheme for me to board a Navy ship and stowaway back to port without the sirens knowing. Then they sailed farther south in hopes the sirens would continue to follow.”
“Did they?”
S
he shrugs. “So far as I know. I haven’t seen any evidence they’ve followed me since.”
“Good,” I whisper. Though an ache sweeps through me as I think about Rosemera and her haphazardly tossed together crew with a band of sirens following them.
“I assume they’ll be following us now, though.”
“I suppose so. But we won’t stray too close to the water. It’s the pirates and mobsters I’m more concerned about. They don’t have physical limitations to exploit.”
The silence is thick between us for a long while. Whitley stares out the window with her arms crossed. I bite my lip and consider saying something. I should say something, right?
My tone was... harsh. And I don’t have the best track record of reacting to her siren magic. It still eats away at me, that she’s one of them, but knowing that I’ve hurt her is so much worse.
I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.
“Where are we going?” she asks in a quiet voice.
“A few towns over. We’ll be riding all day.”
“We’re near to the Forks of the Tar River, are we not?”
“Yes,” I say slowly, assuming she’s thinking of the town we first met. “We are very near to there now. But I’m not it’d be wise to visit. Stede has infiltrated that town once before, I don’t see why we’d press our luck a second time.”
“I have a friend there.”
I tilt my head. “You were there a day or two at most. Whose friendship did you gain that quickly?”
“A young girl, recently married. She was kind, and a bit over eager. I’d trust her well enough, if we found ourselves in need of someone to trust.” Her eyes meet mine as she says the last word with an added emphasis that causes a knot in my stomach.
She thinks I don’t trust her? I pause, considering my next words. “There is a town just north of there we can head to instead. Your young friend will be close enough that we can reach out if we run into more trouble.”
“Very well.”
I update the carriage driver of our destination change. I don’t have any intentions of trusting some young matron we hardly know, but I don’t want to ignore Whitley’s first suggestion. I don’t want her to think I don’t trust her.
Treacherous Love Page 5
