by Hazel Grace
“Yes,” I gush. “So good.”
“You feel amazing against my cock,” he groans, picking up his pace. “I love that I can hear your voice.” I can hear him start to lose control. His fingertips digging into my skin, his breathing picking up in sporadic discharges of air.
I smile to myself, things that would be so normal for other people aren’t so usual for us. How things have shifted from where I was sliding a blade against his face to see what kind of man laid under his flesh just for him to be plunging into me now against my bedroom door.
“Dagen,” I whimper, knowing that the sound of his name out loud will help to his downfall. “Harder.”
He kisses the back of my shoulder blade. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Now.” I cry. “Own me.” He doesn’t wait for anymore encouragement, picking up speed, our grunts and moans mixing together in the room, and I’m about there.
My lower stomach clenches, listening to him in pleasure as he continues to possess every inch of me.
Until there is a loud knock on the door.
“Davina!”
My eyes widen, my next intake of oxygen—it’s gone.
“Fuck,” Dagen curses, letting me down gently. He makes sure my skirt is covering my ass before he takes his hands off my waist, and pulls up his pants then lets me open the door.
Tobias stands on the other side with brows knitted together, his white shirt untied at the top to show off his tan chest when the door opens further, and my best friend’s eyes fall on the Viking behind me.
“The fuck are you doing here?” he snaps. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dagen rest his forearm off the door while stepping closer to me.
“Could ask you the same question,” he deadpans.
“You belong in a cage,” Tobias snarls. “Preying off the kindness of—”
“Tobias,” I urge, my heart in my throat. “We can talk outside the room if you’d like.”
His eyes broaden. “Did you just—your voice.”
I give him a weak smile. “Just happened.”
“But, how did—” I gently push him back so I can walk out of my bedroom, just to turn around and face Dagen with a raised brow.
“I’ll be—um, back.”
“You better,” he replies then slowly closes the door. The moment it clicks, Tobias is on me. His body inches from mine, towering over me.
“What is he doing in your room?”
“Well, he was there to make sure—”
“Are you fucking him?” His use of words makes me outwardly flinch along with the harsh tone in his voice.
I can hear it all perfectly, every syllable and feeling that he’s adverting—pain, hurt, embarrassment.
“Really?” I snap.
“How are you speaking right now?” he presses onward. “It’s been years since I...I remember it like it was yesterday.” My hand finds his arm, but he quickly withdraws it from me.
Swallowing my hesitation, I say, “The veil is disappearing and so is the spell.”
“And you’re—” He looks back at the now closed door. “You’re with him.”
“I’m not with anyone,” I retort. “I mean, I don’t—there hasn’t been any talk about—”
“Did I not hear you groan ‘own me’?” I can feel my whole face blanch. The numbness that takes over my entire body because it’s not mine anymore.
I’ve changed over the course of weeks, and the old Davina, the sweet, naive one, she’s gone.
Right along with the veil. And Tobias has always waited and served me with every action he’s ever made.
“Tobias,” I begin. “You know I love you. There isn’t—”
“But you love him now,” he cuts in. “Isn’t that what I just heard?”
“I never said the word ‘love’. You’re making this—”
“Worse?” He shakes his head and gives out a disgusted scoff. “No, you did that.”
It’s over, but it did begin—a long time ago when she was still a young girl who swam under the ocean and I was a young idiot that was smitten by her beauty.
Everything that is beautiful fades, I just didn’t think it’d be because of a stranger who wanted to invade her land and steal something that meant the world to her—something that belonged to her mother. I never thought I’d see Davina get starry-eyed and foolish to the point where she’d put herself and her sisters at risk when I’ve spent years keeping Hunters off her trail.
It’s pathetic really, how I thought things would change. How one day I thought she’d see me again and not past me. And within a span of ten seconds and the gravelly “own me” that slipped through the cracks of her bedroom door, my heart plummeted, hit rock bottom, and shattered into a million pieces.
“Psst.” I glance up to the empty hallway to see one of the girl’s men standing guard at Vlatka’s door and her head peering around the door frame.
“What are you doing up?” I ask, shoving my hands into my pant’s pockets.
I’m in need of a drink, my ship, and the open fucking sea to erase Davina out of my mind, almost forgetting about the stowaway I saved that now I needed to rid myself of.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she whispers loudly as I continue toward her room. “I’m taking it that you couldn’t either?”
“Something like that.” I stop along the guard’s body and give him a curt nod. “I’ll take responsibility for the guest.”
“Her Majesties have stated I stay around her at all times,” he deadpans.
I shrug. “Then follow me down the hall to my room I guess.” Jerking my head for Vlatka to follow me, the padding of her feet rhythmically sound through the night air. The ocean’s breeze sifts through the stone pillars, the wide-open spaces giving a perfect view of the shoreline below.
When we get to my bedroom, the guard does what he stated he was going to do and plants himself outside of it. Thankfully, I’ve left enough brandy in my room for special occasions, and this would be one of those I-want-to-burn-every-memory-of-this-place-within-my-head kind of moments.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I ask, making my way to the small hutch.
“Sure,” she replies, stepping deeper into the room. It’s padded in a deep red, the only room in the house without blues and teals decorating the walls and furniture. Davina had this room done specifically for me. Pine bed frame and chairs with cushions of red velvet. Deep dressers to hold all my clothes and a hutch to store my belongings. A perfect view of the back garden that also allowed a nice breeze to waft through my room.
I need to get out of here.
“Do you often walk around at night?” Vlatka inquires behind me.
“No.”
“It must be your sea legs that make land uncomfortable,” she continues.
I pour a generous amount of brandy into my chalice. “Something like that.” Finishing off my glass and then hers, I offer the drink to her before downing mine in one gulp.
“Is something wrong?” she asks with perfectly shaped brows that descend in worry.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I smack my lips together, letting the bitter taste hit my tongue and sink into my empty gut. “We’ll be leaving here tomorrow.”
She takes a small sip of her liquor, which immediately makes her face twist from the pungency of it. “Okay,” she squeaks, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “I haven’t been feeling too well here. I think it’s the air.”
I snort. It’s more than that. It’s fucking magic that shouldn’t be here.
Pouring myself another glass, I turn around to see Vlatka give the drink another try, but she purses her lips again.
I reach for her glass and gently pry it from her fingers. “You don’t have to be polite. It’s not for everyone.”
“Thank you.” She starts fidgeting with her fingers as I rid myself of her beverage.
“Are you uncomfortable? Would you like me to walk you back to your room?”
She shakes her head and tucks a piece of her dark hair behind her e
ar. “No, not at all.”
“Then what is it?”
Her green eyes glance up at me from the floor, slamming into my chest because they are almost the exact shade of Davina’s.
“I’ve been having difficult thoughts.”
“Difficult thoughts?” I raise a brow, lifting my drink back up to my lips. “About what?”
“You.” She bites down on her lower lip, and it’s then that I notice how plush and pink they are. How her breast fit snugly in her mint green dress and the curves of her hips.
“Me?”
She nods. “I was wondering how it’d be if I—” She stops immediately, a faint blush creeping up her cheekbones.
I gesture with my brandy for her to continue. “Please, go on.”
Taking a timid step toward me, she hauls her eyes back to meet mine—innocent, shy, and completely human.
Maybe that was the problem all along.
Building myself into a fantasy when I knew that they didn’t exist in the real world. The island was my getaway to be free from the reality of not being able to find Lorne and how many times I’ve failed.
“I want you to kiss me,” she blurts through my thoughts. I begin to choke on my drink, pounding my fist into my chest to relieve the shock of her words.
She rushes to me, hitting my back softly with her palm like it’s going to do anything. My mind replays her declaration again in my head as I clear my throat, hastily downing the rest of my second shot of liquor.
“Are you okay?” she frets, still patting my shoulder.
“Yes,” I croak, the moment the liquor hits my head. Turning on my heel, I begin to make my way back to the small hutch that holds all my alcohol, but Vlatka’s hand comes up to brush my upper arm.
“I’m sorry,” she claims, removing my glass from my hand. “That was inappropriate and—we can just talk. I just needed to get out of that room, I was going crazy.”
I wave a dismissive hand in the air. “It’s fine.”
“How about we get you to bed and the guard can walk me back to—”
“We can just...talk,” I offer. “Tell me more about your—”
“I don’t want to talk about my husband or the fact that I ran away from home.” She tosses my cup on my bed. “I want to talk about new adventures.”
“Alright, what do you plan on doing after I drop you off at Port Royale?”
“I was thinking more of right now.” She grazes a nimble hand over my chest. “I’ve never done anything like this before but...adventures, right?”
My cock agrees to it, strains against the button of my pants to lose myself in entirety to the beautiful woman in my room.
But all I can see is red.
Red hair and green eyes. Lush lips and years of memories linked to it.
My eyes flutter back the vision of her. The urgency in her tone within the throes of passion with him. I left her here while he worked his way into her bed, and there was no coming back from that. I don’t even know if I’d be able to let it go, forgive her, for things to go back to being the—
Lips press into mine, slightly dry and hesitant. I haven’t had a woman in so long. I never could get Davina out of my mind when I was off to sea to even delve into someone else.
But now, she picked the Viking over me, and I have to start removing my heart from her small hands.
Opening my lips wider, Vlatka follows my lead, letting me burrow my self-pity into someone else. Her arms wrap around my neck, begging me to keep going, all while I have a civil war within myself to stop and just let me drink myself into oblivion.
A faint moan escapes her lips, and I imagine it being hers. My fingertips clutch on to the woman in front of me, pulling her into my chest, like my mind has played a million times in my head.
“Take me to bed,” Vlatka encourages. “Erase the bad memories with something worth holding on to.”
Guiding her to it, I don’t hedge over anything—I can’t. I keep pressing forward until her back hits the mattress and my body collides with hers.
We all experience heartache, pain, but mine started with a dream at sixteen years old when I saved a girl from death, and she just butchered my life into fragments of nothing.
Every morning here feels the same—a dream. The sun is always bright, the faint chirps of birds greet the early day, and it’s promising. Regardless of the monotonous start, my mood is worse. I left Vlatka asleep in my bed, her legs tangled with mine, and the sentiment irritated me because she shouldn’t be here within my sheets with me.
Letting my irritation simper throughout my body, I head to the dining room for any sight of food so that I can get my energy up and leave. I can’t argue with Davina when she’s set on something, it’s like prying food away from a shark and telling them they can only eat plants while wishing them good luck.
She’s set in her ways, pulling her stubborn tendencies out each and every time, but this time, I’m not settling while sitting back to watch it happen.
I stride into the large room, overlooking the long dining room table only for me to falter in my steps at a woman sitting at the far end of it. Kind eyes and cocoa brown hair with some gray and green streaks line her head, she keeps chewing her food as she stares at me.
The air feels tight and congested, clogging my lungs for my next breath as I study the odd features of her face.
From her nose up, her skin is a shade of green that slightly sparkles with each movement of her jaw chewing her food. Her eyes are dark as they study me while I gape at her.
“You must be the pirate,” she greets, picking up a silver knife and cutting into a stick of butter. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Yes,” I manage to force out, but I stay planted close to the entrance of the room. The hairs on my arms stand on end, warning me to watch her and that something is off with her presence.
“You must be hungry—” She nods toward the various fruits and loaves of bread that lay on the table. “—help yourself.”
“I just came here to grab and go,” I reply. “I have to take off today.”
She nods, patting her chin with a maroon napkin. “Of course. Davina said you don’t stay for very long.”
The mention of her name out loud by someone else hits my gut. I don’t want to hear it nor do I want to even think about the shit I discovered yesterday.
“I’m Taysa,” she offers.
“The sea witch.”
She grimaces at the name but quickly recovers. “I’m called that, yes.”
“I apologize. The girls speak highly of you.” She smiles at that, looking down at her plate as though she’s recalling memories that she’s had of raising them.
“I consider them—” She looks up at me, and goosebumps shoot through my whole body. “—special.”
Movement catches my peripheral, and I glance up to see the Viking standing in the door frame of the other entrance into the dining room. A sharp “shit” escaping his lips as he tries to quickly exit but stops when my eyes pin him with a glare.
“Ah, the Viking,” Taysa beams, peering over her shoulder to discover the third body in the room. “Take a seat, we have much to discuss.”
“I’d rather not,” he retorts, mirroring my displeasure of him in this room with a scowl.
“But you need to,” Taysa counters. “Both of you.”
We share our focus on her, but she ignores it, popping a berry into her mouth as she continues to enjoy her meal.
Dagen doesn’t pry from his spot and neither do I, but I know we’re both thinking the same thing besides strangling the fuck out of each other.
“Quickly, boys,” Taysa urges with her hand. “It’ll only take a moment.”
Delaying for another minute, Dagen moves, rounding the table but stands a few feet away from me, waiting expectantly on her to speak so that he can flee the room where I’ll follow right after him through another exit.
Peering up into my eyes, she glances at Dagen then back to me and smiles. “Tobias, c
ongratulations, you found your brother.”
My brows immediately snap together as I watch her chew another berry, casually and collected as though she just told me the sky is blue.
“What?” I snap.
She points an index finger at Dagen. “Your brother. Dagen, meet Gathan, your younger brother.”
“He’s not my brother.”
“He is your brother,” she defends. “And I would know because I'm the mother to the both of you.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Dagen thunders. “My mother is dead. I heard her screams.”
“You thought you heard her screams,” Taysa notes with her fork pointed in his direction. “It’s amazing what magic can do to make the mind think one thing. Especially a small child’s.”
He violently shakes his head. “Bullshit. Both of my siblings were taken with her as well.”
She nods at me. “That would be him.”
“Then where is my sister, Kelaya?”
Taysa averts her gaze, lips pressed together into something I can’t put my finger on. “She’s dead.”
Dagen takes a lofty step forward. “How?” His tone is venom, shaking the tension in the room to new heights while my mind is reeling at her revelation that the man standing beside me is my Lorne.
“She was, in fact, killed by the Highlands while I was trying to get Tobias and Kelaya out of the village.”
A harsh silence fills the room, engulfing us together in some odd trance of truths, or lies, and I’m confused. I don’t believe her words. Not when there isn’t an ounce of authenticity in them.
Dagen the Blood Axe, he’s not my brother. Mine is lost to the world, and I can’t find him.
The woman who made me squirm the last time we met was mad. The tall, lanky little shithead that stands next to me is not my brother.
He isn’t Gathan.
Everything about him screams stranger. Besides the medium-brown hair and shitty looks we’ve been giving each other, we have nothing else in common.
I’d know if Gathan was alive, I would feel him. The first moment I laid eyes on the little fool next to me, it would’ve sent something coursing through my body. If he was my blood, I’d be fully aware that we were linked together—plain and simple. So this kook of a woman sitting in front of me is imagining shit and making up stories.
