Beneath Black Sails

by Clare Sager

  A fae mark. No wonder it was so bright and precise.

  He cocked his head. “You’re not the only one around here who’s fae-touched.”

  Fae-touched. His strength, his charm – yes, it made sense.

  Of course he’d assume she was touched rather than blooded. So few people outside the royal family were descended from fae, it was a natural assumption. Most people who had magic had been blessed by the fae for their own mysterious reasons. Like him.

  She glanced at his white streak again and snorted, shaking her head. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises tonight?”

  Grinning, he lifted one shoulder. “Hopefully this one will impress you more than my singing. But, I need to touch the wound to heal you, so, show me.”

  Great. Alone with Knigh in a breathtakingly beautiful cave with his hand on her bare flesh. There was definitely no way this could escalate.

  She swallowed, throat suddenly tight, and lifted the hem of her shirt until it revealed the bandages covering her from bellybutton to breasts.

  For a second, he just stared – perhaps he’d realised the same thing about this situation – then he blinked and nodded. “Do you mind if I…?” He pointed at the bandages.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  He stepped into her space, just as she’d done to him during the weapons check, and again his scent touched her nostrils – soap, worn leather, and cinnamon.

  She had to stop that – his smell wasn’t important. His closeness wasn’t important. He was only doing this to heal her with his gift. That was all.

  She held her breath as he unwrapped the bandages. A low growl sounded from his throat as the layers grew redder.

  Closing her eyes, she braced a hand on his shoulder as he peeled the last layer from the wound. As careful as he was, her stomach roiled with the tugging motion and spreading pain.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, then ducked to look more closely. “Wild Hunt take you, Vee – this is far worse than you let on.” Scowling, he shook his head. “You’ve eaten since the battle, yes?”

  Teeth gritted, she nodded. If she opened her mouth, she’d only end up whimpering, and no way would she make such a pathetic sound.

  “Good. My gift will consume some of your energy as well as mine. Now, this will hurt a bit, but then it’ll be gone – I promise.”

  “Just hurry up.” With the bandage freshly peeled away, the wound throbbed, making her knees weak.

  His warm palm pressed over the streak of red, lighting up the pain, and she gasped, fingers knotting into the hem of her shirt. But it was bearable.

  He closed his eyes, a frown of concentration lining his brow.

  A warm, golden glow lit up his hand, glistening off the cave walls. It sparkled and refracted from floor to ceiling, glittering and throwing flashes of light onto the pool’s surface. The sight distracted her for a few seconds before agony lanced through her torso.

  She flinched, but his free hand caught her waist, holding her in place.

  “Wild Hunt damn you, bloody bastard, you –”

  She clamped a hand over her mouth, gritting her teeth.

  A thousand hot needles jabbed through her flesh, and a moan still escaped her grip, echoing around the cavern.

  Closing her eyes, she bit on her knuckles and held her breath. It couldn’t go on much longer. It would be over soon.

  But the needles lit up fresh pain, as bright and pinpointed as the glittering walls, for one, two, three seconds … Four … Sweat beaded her brow … Five … Deeper darkness pushed at her …

  Then it faded, and warmth bloomed in its place, as welcome and glorious as the sun on a wintry Albionic day. Sighing, she sagged, catching herself on his shoulder.

  Then the warmth, too, faded, leaving just his hot skin upon hers.

  When she opened her eyes, his chest was heaving in long, deep breaths, and the way he watched her, eyes at once dark and hot, made her heart stutter.

  His fingers flexed on her skin, firm, strong, sending her pulse surging, and his gaze fell to her mouth.

  She gave a brittle laugh. “Captain Blackwood …” Somehow formality felt safer, but damn it, did she want to be safe? “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re looking at me like you want to kiss me.”

  His fingers twitched against her. “I do.”

  The Cave

  Pulse far too loud in her ears, Vice swallowed. This was … he was a pirate hunter and she a pirate … but after all that had happened today, the argument fell flat.

  He was her betrothed, though – or had been. That could complicate things.

  Lords and Ladies, did it matter? He didn’t know who she was, and she didn’t care who he was. He could just be a body fulfilling her body’s need, and she could be the same for him. Gods knew he needed to let off steam after today’s fight.

  Besides, cool, restrained Knighton Blackwood wasn’t some foolish boy to lose his heart after a kiss … or more.

  She lifted her chin, an invitation. His breath brushed her lips.

  “Then,” she said, “why don’t you?” All he had to do was lower his face a few inches.

  “Because,” he replied, voice husky, “if I start, I don’t know where it’ll stop.”

  So he felt it too. The tension that had been building since that first time they’d met, humming like one of Perry’s high notes on her fiddle. When it broke, it wouldn’t just be a brief kiss in a cave. Her body throbbed, calling for it, for him. Irresistible.

  “Maybe you should start and find out.”

  Two beats, a slow blink, then his fingers plunged into her hair, and he pressed his mouth to hers.

  Warmth surged through her at his touch, highlighting every sensation. The cave’s chilly air on her hands and face. The solidity of his shoulder under her hand. The rough linen of her shirt still gripped in the other. His hand at her waist, fingertips of the other trailing across her scalp.

  All that from a lingering union of lips.

  They parted an inch, and when she opened her eyes, their gazes collided, as staggering as a pistol shot. She blew out a shaky laugh. A shiver raced through him, lifting goosebumps on his forearms.

  Just one kiss. Definitely not enough.

  In unison, she tiptoed back to his lips, and his arm circled her waist, crushing her against him.

  Lords, he was firm and strong, and his pulse pounded under her fingertips as her hands slid over his shoulders and around his neck.

  That pulse – he was alive, she was alive. They’d survived. And this was the reward they’d earned.

  With bodies flush together, the heat coursing through her built, pushing her mouth open and inviting his eager response, tongue brushing hers.

  At that touch, a boundary crossed, the kiss grew raw, hungry, frantic, his skin burning under her hands, their breaths mingling and echoing through the cave.

  This was what she needed. Gods, this was exactly what she needed. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, and a groan rumbled in his chest – the louder cousin of the sound she’d felt when she’d checked him for weapons.

  Maybe this was what he needed, too.

  His hands sank to her backside, kneading, pressing, and with a surge of muscles, he lifted her from the floor, bringing their faces level.

  She huffed a soft laugh – damn it, she didn’t need encouragement, not in this. Pirate hunter or not, this was what she’d wanted to do that first time she’d seen him in deLacy’s ballroom, all tall and broad in his uniform. And the want had only built the more he irritated her, the more he flirted and teased, and the more he was simply in her presence.

  It didn’t mean anything, only that she wanted him. That was all.

  Trusting in his hold, she wrapped her legs around him, creating an unbearably perfect angle between his hardness and her core, sending pleasure streaking through her.

  Too many damned clothes, though, but … what if he didn’t want this? Not really. The last thing she wanted was his regret, his awkwardnes
s tomorrow back on The Morrigan.

  Bodies were just bodies to her, but not to everyone.

  She wouldn’t take advantage of him.

  Hands on his shoulders, she pulled away, leaving her lips tingling.

  A frown flickered on his brow, and he cocked his head, panting.

  She caught her breath and swallowed in an effort to make her voice box remember how to work. “Do you – do you want to?”

  Teeth flashing, he scoffed and nodded, his eyes wide. “Do you?”

  “Oh, yes. Gods, yes.”

  His chest heaved in a long breath, then their lips crashed back together, all tongues and gasping and a nip to her lower lip that wreaked havoc with her spine.

  In that case, they needed to do something about these pesky clothes. She scrabbled at his shirt, tugging it up until she was forced to break off their kiss to pull it over his head.

  When she threw it to the floor, he went to continue, but she pressed her fingers to his lips, grinning. “Just a second,” she murmured and let her gaze rove over him at leisure as she hadn’t been able to before they’d swam the coral reef.

  Hells and damnation, it was far worse than she’d feared. His taut muscles gleamed in the dying light that glinted through the cave’s crystals and flickered upon the pool. She ran her fingers across those broad shoulders she’d so admired in deLacy’s ballroom, then along the line of his collarbones. She planed her palms down over his firm chest, precisely over the route she’d taken during the weapons check. Except now there was no uniform in the way and no battle of who could turn the other on more without succumbing.

  This was exactly about succumbing and damn well enjoying it.

  He watched her, breathing hard, as her touch lowered, and she finally let her thumbs and the heels of her hands explore the rippling muscles of his stomach.

  She bit her lip. With him looking like this, it was more a surprise this had taken so long to happen.

  Smiling, she lifted her hands to his face, tracing her fingers over the high cheekbones. “You are gorgeous, you know that, right?”

  His eyebrows shot up, and he blinked. “I – I – thank you?”

  She chuckled and pulled his mouth back to hers. Clearly, not enough women had said that. A travesty. Men told women they were beautiful all the time and yet women so seldom repaid the compliment.

  There was the dim sense of movement, then her bottom landed on something cold and hard, such a stark contrast with the pounding heat surging through their paired bodies it made her gasp.

  With a grin, he palmed her thighs and pulled away just far enough to slide his hands to the hem of her shirt. His eyebrows rose in question.

  “Bloody get on with it, Knigh.”

  A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, and he tugged her shirt off, then dropped it to the floor.

  She looked down, touching the place she’d been injured in this morning’s fight. “Not even a scar.”

  He scoffed and pulled her hand away. “That wasn’t where I was looking.” One eyebrow raised, his lust-darkened gaze raked over her exposed flesh.

  Shoulders back, she lifted her chin and watched his survey. Some felt ashamed of their bodies or hid them or compared them to others – too big, too small, too fleshy, too muscular for a woman, not enough curves. Not her. Just like the reef, beauty came in hundreds, thousands of different forms, and she’d never seen one that wasn’t beautiful. Her body, like his, was not something for modesty.

  The pad of his thumb circled the silver scar on her shoulder, and he nodded with a frown of understanding – he could tell it was a pistol wound. Dipping his head, he kissed it, confirming what she already knew.

  It wasn’t a flaw, an imperfection on her tanned, smooth skin.

  It was something she’d survived. It said she was tough – she wouldn’t break.

  With a shuddering breath, his hand went to the spot where he’d healed her, where there was no scar, and skittered up to palm her breast.

  Her breath caught, and she arched her back, pushing into his touch, seeking still more.

  As if goaded by her response, he gripped her thigh and bent, catching her nipple between his lips.

  She gasped, closing her eyes and letting her head hang back. Even bolder than she’d anticipated. He really had fooled her with that mask of control and restraint, hadn’t he?

  His thumb grazed her other nipple just before he nipped the first playfully, pleasure-pain striking through her like a lightning bolt and making her jerk upright, legs tight around him.

  He looked up at her with a wicked grin and licked the spot he’d bitten, soothing the hurt in a way that made her squirm. “What?” He raised an eyebrow again. “Did you think just because I was in the Navy, I hadn’t learned anything useful beyond sailing?”

  She swallowed, breath quaking, body burning in anticipation. “Clearly, I misjudged you.”

  Smirking, he kissed his way up her chest, hands fiddling with the buttons of her breeches. “Clearly. Let’s see just how far …”

  As his mouth landed on hers again, he tugged off her boots, then her breeches.

  Gods, she really had misjudged him, hadn’t she? Knighton Villiers was not the gentle lay she’d expected.

  Cool air caressed her skin, a relief from the overpowering heat coursing through her veins, making her sigh against his lips.

  With a firm hand, he pushed her back against the flat stone he’d propped her on. His fingertips glided across the tattoo on her hip, giving it an appreciative look before lowering to his knees.

  “What” – she half sat up, but his palm on her solar plexus stopped further movement – “what are you doing?”

  “I thought the Pirate Queen would appreciate a man kneeling for her.” With a flash of a grin, he nudged her thighs apart and, Wild Hunt, she was not about to stop him.

  Scoffing, she lay back, heart pounding in her ears. “Badly misjudged.”

  “You have no idea,” he murmured before his tongue laved against her.

  She gasped, back arching out of her control, now responding only to his sweet torment, his ravenous touch. Eyes closed, she focused on each point of contact – his grip on her thighs, his smooth strokes against her, the scrape of his stubble.

  A low moan rumbled through him and into her core, saying he enjoyed this, too. As his tongue worked on her sensitive pearl, his finger circled her entrance with teasing pressure.

  She writhed, and a pathetic sound echoed through the cave – gods, that was her, near-begging. She needed more, craved more, wanted more. But her voice wouldn’t cooperate to ask for it, to demand it. Instead, she bucked her hips and whimpered.

  With a chuckle he obeyed her wordless command, dragging her into a sea of sublime pleasure from his silken touch.

  It was unbearable … delicious … surging … incredible …

  It was rapture.

  Wave upon wave consumed her, building, building, building, each cresting higher than the last. With fingers and tongue, he strummed her, playing her as expertly as he’d played that guitar at the bonfire.

  Lights sparked across the inside of her eyelids, and at last, the highest wave rose. It lifted her, carrying her away and crashing her upon some unknown shore in a thousand incandescent droplets.

  He held her through the cries and the ebbing waves until she gasped for breath and fell limp against the rock.

  Lords, Ladies, gods, whoever was listening – she had needed that. So badly. And bloody hells had he delivered.

  Half-sitting, she pushed the hair from her face and blinked into the cave’s gloom.

  Except that while the last of the sun had almost disappeared, motes of blue light dotted the walls, fresh ones glowing into existence even as she stared.

  She’d peaked plenty of times but never had a partner made her see actual lights before.

  With a smile that wouldn’t have been out of place on a sabrecat, Knigh rose, his body gleaming, all shadows edged with light. “Glow-worms,” he murmured and bent ove
r her, pulling her into a long, slow kiss that tasted of salt and herself.

  She cupped his face, scraping her teeth against the fullness of his lower lip.

  He pulled away, expression suddenly serious. “Are you sure you –”

  “Wild Hunt, Knigh, if you make me wait any longer I might explode.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he made no move to act.

  “Let me illustrate,” she said and flicked open the first button of his breeches, “just how sure I am.”

  His breath hitched as her hands brushed against the hardness straining at the fabric. She couldn’t help but smirk at holding that influence upon him when he’d just exercised such devastating power over her.

  Enough anticipation, now was the time for speed. She’d done this enough times that the buttons were all undone within a matter of seconds. Then with a manoeuvre over that sizeable bulge at the front, she slid the breeches down his thighs.

  He certainly wasn’t at half-mast.

  Huffing out a quick breath, he nodded. “Message received and understood.” He kicked off his boots and let the breeches fall the rest of the way to the floor.

  Heels hooked around the backs of his legs, she pulled him closer, biting back a moan when his hardness glided over her. Pleasure throbbed in her belly and tightened her thighs.

  This was it – the point of no return. She wanted it – she’d been sure the moment she’d invited him to kiss her.

  But him … Earlier, she’d doubted his resolution but after what he’d just done – no, that wasn’t the action of a man purely letting his desire lead the way. He’d made the decision to do this.

  With a hungry kiss, she guided him to her entrance, but the blasted man just paused there, tucked against her. His hands glided down her back until they gripped her hips, then his tongue plunged into her mouth, and he entered her slow inch by slow inch.

  This was – she shook her head – unbearable. She grabbed his arse and tugged him the rest of the way with a groan. Stars burst across the black of her eyelids, forcing her eyes open – she wanted to see him, to watch that magnificent body of his.