“Sounds like you been eating some of Cookie’s stew, then. That’d give anyone a peculiar feeling in the gut, ’specially what with these rocky seas we’re having. You’re lucky you’re not tossing it all overboard.”
Kalder laughed at a very true statement.
An ill wind blows ill things.
His humor died as he recalled one of his mother’s favored sayings. It was something she whispered often in his father’s court. Most often because she was the source of the bad tidings and maleficence.
And his father had reacted swiftly and with an equal measure of rancor. Stop that, Bron! You’ll be calling down bad humor upon us. The universe has ears and it listens to the words you speak. Careful what you say, woman! Hex us and I’ll see that you pay for it with your tongue! And your life!
His father had believed that wholeheartedly. As a boy, Kalder had thought it the greatest superstition.
Now, as a man, he wasn’t so sure. Like his father, he’d seen a few things that made him wonder if perhaps the universe didn’t listen and set into motion the very things that people spoke out loud.
The very things their minds whispered in fear.
Almost as if the universe was sick that way and took perverse pleasure in manifesting the very things that terrified people the most.
There was whisper magick, no doubt. Powerful and undeniable. This ship was proof of that.
As was Sallie’s fate.
His own. The captain, and all those who lived here. So why was it so hard for him to believe in his father’s proclamation?
But then, he knew. And it was something he really didn’t want to face. Because at the end of the day, the thought of the past coming back to harm him was the most terrifying thing he could imagine, indeed.
The universe shouldn’t have ears.
It shouldn’t be listening. And it damn sure shouldn’t be vindictive or spiteful.
Yet what if it actually was?
What if it could?
That thought drew his stomach even tighter and made him want to heave.
* * *
Cameron froze as she met Kalder in the cramped hull. His eyes widened as he took in her new pale hair color.
“Are you all right?”
She felt the heat in her cheeks rise the moment he reached to touch its awkward paleness. Clearing her throat, she quickly explained before he asked about the matter. “We’ve no idea what caused it to do this. But at least I finally got me wings to recede.”
Guilt simmered in his steely eyes. “If I’m the cause, Miss Jack—”
She shook her head to cut off his words at the guilt his tone betrayed. He had nothing to feel bad about, and she couldn’t stand the thought of him suffering for it. “You’re the only reason I’m here, Mr. Dupree. Make no mistakes about that. Or apologies, either. I won’t have it.” Smiling, she took his hand into hers. The strength of that one member was absolute and undeniable. He was a creature of utter brutality. Paden hadn’t been mistaken about that, and she knew it for a fact.
Still, he was also a creature of compassion. One who never hesitated to protect what he cared about.
“I don’t know why you did what you did for me and me brother, Mr. Dupree, but I can’t thank you enough, and I’ll never forget that kindness.”
Kalder couldn’t think straight as her fingers danced idly across the flesh of his palm. Most likely, she thought nothing of the gesture. A simple act of friendship or nervousness that was common in her world. But in his, it was a rarity to be touched without pain. To be offered even this small token of kindness. It was why he’d always been partial to human women. They liked such trivial gestures of affection, even when there was no real feeling behind them.
At least that was true of strumpets.
Ladies like Cameron and Sancha, Belle and Janice and Valynda, Elyzabel, and Mara …
They were a different breed. Ladies placed a great deal of meaning behind the slightest bit of touching. A man didn’t lightly caress one.
Kissing was off-limits completely.
A harsh lesson learned his first day on dry land, when his father had demanded a public beating over a stolen kiss that would have meant nothing in the underwater city where he’d been raised. That degradation and mockery still rang in his ears. Barely fifteen, he’d known nothing of the human world and had been captivated by the blond lady whose flaxen locks had been unlike anything he’d ever seen in Wyñeria, where they were all dark-haired.
More than that, the human woman had smelled of sunshine. So to kiss her had seemed the most natural thing for him to do.
To share breath in Wyñeria was the highest form of a compliment.
In the world of humanity, it was a gross insult that had resulted in first the lady slapping him, then shrieking in outrage.
Stunned, he’d looked to his older brothers, who’d laughed at his mistake. The bastards had failed to warn him about human customs, and instead had been the first to tell their father of his innocent transgression.
Varice had immediately stepped forward with a dubious smile. “Let me be the one to whip him, Father. ’Tis a lesson I’m sure he’ll never forget.”
A promise his brother had well delivered on.
It was why Kalder didn’t understand Cameron’s kindness toward him now. It was such a foreign concept for him.
While he was used to loose women throwing themselves at him anytime he ventured near one, women of standing tended to stay away because they knew nothing of his social status. All they saw was a dark, mysterious loner who avoided others. An intriguing puzzle they wanted to explore—at least for a few hours, until he’d sated them. As a rule, those women thought him a ruffian of low character and little prospect.
The truth was, his father had been a warlord and king who ruled a vast empire of immense wealth. Had his mother not killed him, he would have stood to inherit the southern borderlands and lived a life of privilege that would make the kings of England, France, and Spain weep with jealousy. Never mind what his brothers had taken.
But Kalder had never cared about such things. Perhaps because he’d been raised with servants fawning over his every frown and seeking to please him, and more wealth than anyone could ever spend. It held no value whatsoever.
Nay, the only things he’d ever craved had been the most elusive and precious of all.
Friendship. Loyalty.
Kind words.
And, most of all, the look on Cameron’s face as she stared up at him right now.
It humbled him, the son of a king. More so because she had no idea who and what he really was. Where he came from. She knew nothing about his past at all.To her, he was just another sailor. Same as Sallie or Roach or Simon. A commoner no better than the bilge water they pumped from the hold.
Yet she treated them all with the same deference she would show a king or emperor. Total kindness and open friendship and warmth. Never in his life had he met her equal.
In the clothes of a common, poor man, she was a grand lady in every sense of the word. And while she might not know his origins, she knew him better than anyone ever had.
Because she alone actually saw him.
Cameron cleared her throat nervously. “Are you going to say anything, Mr. Dupree? Or just continue to stare at me with that unnerving intensity?”
He softened his gaze and fought against the urge to laugh at her chiding tone. “I can’t seem to help meself, Miss Jack. Your beauty and grace always leave me awestruck.”
She let out an adorable scoff. “You flatter me, sir.”
“Only if the truth be flattery.”
And still doubt shone in the crystal depths of her eyes, toying with him and making him harder than a full-on caress could. He’d never understand how she could seduce him so easily when she didn’t even try for it. Yet there was no denying the way he craved her every time she came near. It was madness, truly. Recklessness of the highest magnitude. And yet he was helpless before her.
She wrinkled her
nose. “You’re the only one who thinks it, Mr. Dupree, I assure you.”
He savored the scent of her hair on the breeze as it stirred him even more. “Then the rest are fools not to see what’s before them. I can’t imagine how any could miss seeing the gem that is uniquely you.”
Cameron bit her lip at words that brought a lump to her chest. More than that was the hot look in his beautiful, pale eyes that made her throat go dry and her heart pick up its pace. Goodness, it was difficult to be near him whenever he teased her so.
But she knew it was just his way and he meant nothing by it.
How could he?
So she sought to make light of it and chase him away. “Do you always charm women like this?”
Kalder leaned down as if to impart a secret to her. “How can I when I seldom speak to any?”
He had a point.
More than that … the warmth of his breath fell against her skin and sent chills over her entire body. The contradictory sensation titillated her, and left her limbs shaking and weak.
Seeking some smidgeon of sanity, she forced herself to any topic other than those delectable lips that hovered far too close to her own. “Why did you rescue me?”
“Because I more than earned me damnation, Miss Jack. You didn’t. It wasn’t right that you should suffer when you’d done nothing to be punished for.”
How strange that those words wrought disappointment in her breast. They should bring her happiness. Yet a part of her had wanted something else. She wasn’t quite sure what, but there was no denying that in her heart, his answer hurt. “Is that the only reason?”
“Honestly?”
She swallowed in expectation before she nodded. “I prefer it to a lie.”
“Then nay, ’tis not the only reason I saved you, for I’m a much more selfish bastard than that. Thinking of others has never come easily for me.”
Her heart quickened again as her mind went to a place it shouldn’t and she warned herself against hoping for something that was ridiculous and foolish. Something that could only lead her to more hurt and disappointment. Still, she couldn’t help wanting the impossible. Dreaming of things she knew she didn’t deserve. Things that were beyond her reach. Things not meant for lowly tavern wenches who’d been kicked down by life since the hour of their births.
“Why then would you risk yourself for me?”
Kalder hesitated as every last vestige of decency inside his vacant and hollow soul screamed for him to walk away and leave her in peace. To do what was right and not taint her by words or actions.
It was what he should do.
But never once in his life had he done what he ought to do. Never once had he lived his life by anyone’s expectations or societal rules. Such things weren’t in him.
Now he was too old to change his ways.
Fuck it …
His most commonly uttered phrase and thought before making any life-altering decision.
And with that, he lowered his lips to hers and tasted the one thing he’d been craving above all. The one thing he’d never known. Not even as a child.
Pure, sweet innocence.
More than that, Cameron’s unique flavor that was sweeter than any bit of cake or heaven. Her warmth that fed a part of his soul he hadn’t even known was cold until she’d touched it and made it thrive. It was like that summer day as a boy when he’d first discovered his legs, and had learned to run. Before that, he hadn’t missed what he’d never known.
How could he?
Yet once he’d learned to run, he’d needed that freedom with a madness that still coursed through his blood like wildfire. It was as intrinsic as breathing.
And a part of him needed her that way.
Aye, this was crazy. But then so was he. He’d died for her, for no real good reason, other than he’d wanted her to live more than he’d craved it for himself. Against all common sense, really. Against his true, surly, contrary nature.
Was it so much to ask for this one wee bit of comfort, when nothing else in his screwed-up life made sense?
Cameron trembled as she felt Kalder’s tongue sweep against her own. She’d never tasted a man’s passion before. Never known a man’s embrace other than that of family. While she’d suspected Kalder was well experienced, this left no doubt to the extent of said expertise. He was a master of the craft and she was helpless in the face of the overwhelming desire that raced through her entire being.
Every part of her turned hot and molten. Alive. Breathless, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and delighted in the way his muscles bunched beneath her hands in a wicked symphony.
When he finally pulled away, they stood nose to nose so that he could stare down with that piercing steel-gray gaze that defied her best attempt to define its true stormy color.
A teasing grin spread across his face as he cupped her cheek and placed a much more sedate kiss to her lips. “Well now, me phearse, not sure what it says about either of us that me kiss turned your hair back to its normal hue. Think I’ll take it as a good sign, though.”
Gasping, Cameron looked down to verify that he was right. Her hair was again its true chestnut shade. “How is that possible?”
“Not sure. Me guess is that me evil ways rubbed off on you and took away some of your pure Seraph blood from you.”
She scoffed at his reasoning. “Doubtful.”
“You think not? I’ve corrupted … well, I can’t really say better souls than yours, as I’ve never met your equal in me life, but they were decent enough before they took up company with me sorry hide.”
She shook her head at him and his deprecating humor. “No one can be tempted to anything that isn’t already in them. You can trust me to that. Good or bad. There are lines that no one will cross, no matter the seduction.”
Sadness returned to his gaze. “Wish I could believe that, me phearse. But too often I’ve seen much proof to the contrary.”
“And I respectfully disagree, Mr. Dupree.” She folded her arms over her chest, then cocked her head to scowl at him. “By the way, what is that, that you keep calling me?”
“What? Phearse?”
“Aye. ’Tis a term I’ve never heard before.”
That wicked grin returned to tease her. “It’s Myrcian. Our term for our queens. The word means a ferocious wise woman or counselor.”
His words caught her off guard. “Why would you call me that?”
“’Tis how I see you, me lady. For that’s what you are to me.”
She would think he was using it to mock her, but there was only sincerity in his gaze. Even so, she found it impossible to believe that a man like him would see her as someone so special. “I’m not so fierce.”
“You think not? A woman who crosses an ocean alone to track down her errant brother and wrestle him from the hands of the devil himself to get him back alive? How is that anything else?”
“Well, when you put it that way … it sounds more akin to stupid, if you ask me.”
He laughed. “I would never say such about you.”
Suddenly, they heard the faint strains of music drifting through the boards.
Cameron grinned as she recognized the familiar voices that began to accompany it. “Sounds like Roach and Will found their fiddle and flute.”
“And Kat his drum.”
From the distant sounds of it, they were playing a lively jig. The kind her parents used to play to entertain her and her brother when they were children.
Kalder didn’t miss the longing in her eyes as she savored the strands. “Would you like to dance, Miss Jack?”
His offer surprised her. For some reason, she wouldn’t have thought him the sort of male who liked to partake of such things. “Are you obliged for it?”
He shrugged. “Well, it is ‘All for Me Grog,’ after all. You’ve got to dance to that. The gods might rise up from below and strike us down if we don’t. Only thing more demanding of our respect would be ‘Whiskey in the Jar.’”
Biting h
er lip in sudden enthusiasm, she couldn’t resist his offer. “Well, I am Irish and French, and raised up in taverns and inns. There be nothing more I love to pass me time with than dance and music.”
Before she could blink, he led her up to the deck, where the others had already begun their gaiety that they’d oft break into for no apparent reason whatsoever. It sprang up as regularly and unexpectedly as crew fights and vicious preternatural attacks.
Cameron wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because they were a crew of Deadmen who appreciated the brevity of life, or because, having been betrayed by those closest to them, they knew to appreciate what little happiness could be found in something as simple as a song. Whatever it was, the crew never failed to play as hard as they fought. To laugh as deeply as they brawled.
And the sight of their merriment made her own heart light.
Elyzabel and William were already dancing together while Kat played his drum in time to Will’s fiddle and Roach’s flute. Meanwhile, Simon and Sallie sang the tune in a harmonized round that was quickly being taken up by the others as they swapped drinks and laughter.
Kalder turned her around with an unexpected grace and expertise before he led her into a flawless jig. Her jaw went slack as she watched him keeping pace with her. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the man was as Irish as her father had been. He didn’t miss or hesitate at a single step.
“You’ve been keeping talents hidden there, Mr. Dupree.”
“I hide a lot of things about meself, Miss Jack.”
That was true enough.
As they spun about the deck, Cameron froze at the sight of Paden and the fury in his eyes while he glared utter hatred for Kalder. It sucked every last bit of humor from her.
The moment he caught sight of the blistering venom, Kalder let out a tired sigh and stopped their dance. He straightened his clothes with a sharp tug then cleared his throat. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Jack. I should get back to me brother, and you should see to yours before I give in to me urge to beat him for that undeserved glower.”
Fury scalded her cheeks as she struggled not to murder her brother for him.
Death Doesn't Bargain: A Deadman's Cross Novel Page 8
