“Same as usual?” she asked, flicking strands of sandy hair out of her face to meet Zak’s eyes.
“It looks like it could be a huge haul…” said Zak. “Better take a deep breath before going under.”
She rolled her eyes. It was good advice, but so commonly given as to have become almost a throwaway statement, run into the ground on every fishing ship upon which Zak had served.
“We have to time this just right,” continued Zak. “I’ll nip at the edges of the school until it’s good and bunched up, and then push it your way. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Alright,” said Hachia. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Zak held up a hand, waiting while their captain, Under Prince Demetro, slowly turned the ship around. The water was crystal clear, and it was no trouble for him to keep the fish in view. He could just barely see the faint blue reflection of Methrakia, the middle moon, in the water, larger than Krexellious and faster moving.
“Almost,” murmured Zak. “Get ready!”
He took several steps back, giving himself room. As the ship started back toward the fish, Zak charged, running forward at the railing. He hopped onto it without losing speed and hurled himself into a dive, sighting the spot on the water directly in front of the school’s path. A thrill went deep through him as he twisted and turned through the air.
He hit the water with only the slightest of splashes. To the fish, it may as well have been a skystone impact, all of them rushing away from the source of the disturbance. Zak’s momentum carried him through the water on one side, sending them against the ship and toward where Hachia would be with the net.
The world under the surface of the water was defined by a cool, blue silence. Zak loved it as much as anything, from the way his body moved, slowed and subdued by the water, to the almost limitless extent of the unknown presented by the deeper depths.
One of the fish veered off slightly to the right, as if testing the safety of that path of escape for the entire group. Zak kicked his legs and shot up next to it, steering it back into the greater group.
He could see Hachia ahead, having tethered one end of the net to the ship and holding the other in her hands. She had a graceful swimming style, her midsized breasts loose in the shirt she wore, not having had enough time to put on her usual swimming tunic. Speed swimming was not Hachia’s specialty, which was why Zak so often had her holding the net.
The fish didn’t realize what was about to happen until it was almost too late. Unfortunately, Zak had underestimated the size of the school, and overestimated the size of their net. Hachia closed around the fish in a slow circle, but even kicking at her hardest, fish were beginning to bleed out from the openings.
Zak pumped his arms and legs, cutting through the water over to where the other end of the net attached to the ship. They usually left it like that. Too many hauls had been lost by an accidental break in the net or clumsy handling. Prism fish were far too valuable to risk catching freehand.
But they were also extremely mobile, and that was all Zak had on his mind as he watched them rushing out of the net by the dozen, moving faster than Hachia could contain them. He undid the knot, taking the far end of the net in his hand, and swam toward her.
It pulled their trap closed almost immediately, faster than most of the prism fish could react. The saro vines woven into the edges of the net automatically looped into each other, sealing it up into a bundle held tightly enough to keep the fish from escaping.
Zak looped back down, swimming backward and bumping into Hachia as he gave the job a final look over. She rubbed one of his shoulders affectionately and flashed a tiny, secretive smile. Zak couldn’t resist. He grabbed her and pulled her against him, stealing an underwater kiss. She responded by pressing her body against his eagerly as both of their lungs began to burn.
They parted after a second or two and Zak nodded toward the surface. Hachia waited, watching him and turning the moment into another contest, another back and forth of egos.
Zak didn’t take the bait, feeling as though the kiss and the prism fish were victory enough. He kicked his legs and took off toward the surface first, getting his head out of the water a half second before his lungs began to actively revolt. Bartrand was at the edge of the ship, along with Demetro, and both of them watched him expectantly.
“Probably about two hundred, maybe more,” said Zak. He grinned up at both of his crewmates, meeting Demetro’s gaze for long enough to read the suspicion in the eyes staring back at him.
I still can’t tell if he knows about the two of us, even after months of me and Hachia sneaking around.
“We’re near one of the unclaimed Lower Islands,” said Bartrand. “Makes sense for the two of you to swim out and see if there are any around the shallows.”
Zak nodded. Hachia surfaced next to him and he shot her a look, feeling as though a bit of her competitiveness had spread into him.
“Race you to the island,” he said, kicking off the ship’s hull before she could answer.
“You ass!” Hachia splashed water in his direction, and followed after him.
CHAPTER 2
ZAK
They swam into the shallows and walked the last stretch onto the sun heated island. It was a tiny thing, maybe two hundred feet across, just large enough for some trees and overgrown bushes to have sprouted up in its center.
Hachia looked expectantly at Zak as they slowly did a lap around the island’s circumference, searching for more prism fish. She made it obvious in her expression what she wanted, and seeing her like that, lips pouty, looking for every excuse she could find to slowly bend over to pick up shells, or pull downward at her tight, wet shirt, made it hard for him not to ogle her.
That’s how it all started to begin with. Me stealing a look at the wrong time… or exactly the right time.
“Come on,” he said. He took her hand into his and silently led her into the trees, waiting until they were on the other side of the tiny forest, and Demetro and Bartrand’s views were sure to be blocked.
She was against him in an instant, before he could say what he wanted, before he could say anything. Hachia kissed him with enough passion for two women put together. Zak felt himself hardening as he shifted, dropping down onto the sand with her.
They’d known each other for three years, and spent the better part of the first two flirting and testing each other, letting the tension build until it had finally spilled over during an argument about whose shift it was, the two fucking it out instead of fighting.
Zak ran his hand under the bottom hem of Hachia’s shirt, pulling it off her and tossing it away. Her breasts were nicely sized, with large, cute nipples. He leaned forward and kissed each one, feeling Hachia slowly pawing at his crotch, working the tie of his trousers loose.
Relationships among deck families were uncommon and typically frowned upon. The Arkaian Ocean was no place for children, or love, for that matter. The storms took a yearly toll in blood, and losing a deck brother or sister was already price enough to pay, let alone a lover, or someone even closer.
Hachia stared at Zak’s hard cock as he moved to finish undressing her. She always insisted on wearing the tightest pants she could, and he smiled at the cute wiggles she was forced to do in order to get herself out of them.
He slid in between her newly naked thighs, both of them stripped bare, and let his erection press into her tight, wet hole. Zak felt the same familiar thrill as he began to move. They could be discovered by Demetro and Bartrand as easily as one of them deciding to come and check out the island. It was always like that, him and Hachia sneaking around to find time to get each other off, and sometimes he wondered if that, more than any real attraction, was what brought them together.
“We have to… be quick,” Hachia whispered, cupping her hand against his cheek. Zak pushed deeper into her, hearing a tiny squeal in return and feeling delighted by the girlishness of it.
He pumped into her hard, luxuriating in the passion of the mo
ment. If Hachia wanted a different life, she could find one for herself, leveraging her looks, fertility, and heritage to get off the Sand Angel. But here she was, with him, at least for the moment.
Zak felt primal emotions surge through his chest as he pushed forward, enjoying the sensation of her soft body and modest breasts. Hachia was always a tease right up until the action began. Her body melded into his, submissive, eager, and quivering in response to his movements.
It was a struggle to stay quiet, with the pleasure as raw and vivid as it was. The noises they did make sounded lewd and illicit, even against the naturally romantic background of the noise of the ocean and waves. They were eager and young, full of passion, hormones, and lustful needs.
Zak let himself enjoy the sensation of her tightness and warmth. He slowed his movements until Hachia began to arch her hips up toward him, desperate for what he had to offer. He pushed into her, kissing her neck and only barely resisting the urge to whisper dirty things into her ear.
“Oh… Zak!” Hachia tensed up, her legs wrapping around him. Zak thrust deep into her, only remembering at the last second to pull back and find his release somewhere that would keep their lives simple and uncomplicated into the future.
She cuddled against him for a minute or two, resting her head against his chest and saying nothing. Zak ran his hand through her sandy blonde hair and emptied his mind of thoughts and worry.
“Zakarias…” whispered Hachia.
He frowned. She only ever used his full name when she was being serious.
“Yeah?”
She hesitated for a long moment before continuing.
“Demetro is still smitten with me,” she said.
Zak did his best to shrug with her still pressed tight against his side.
“So what?” he asked. “Are you saying we should be open about… this?”
Hachia found his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze.
“I have to think of my family,” she whispered. “And of their future.”
…And Demetro is one of the Under Princes. Not exactly high on the social hierarchy compared to the Malnians, but above almost any Arkaian. Above me…
He didn’t say anything, and it was clear enough that Hachia took that to be a response in itself.
“This was just fun, Zak,” she said, softly.
“I know.” He took a deep breath, forcing out words even as he feared betrayal from the emotion in his tone. “Of course. I knew that.”
Hachia stood up, walking naked across the sand to collect her clothes. Zak looked away from her, sensing somehow that it could quite possibly be the last time he’d ever see her naked. He dressed alongside her, neither of them saying anything else, and then swam back to the ship alongside her. They were greeted by a grinning Bartrand, leaning over the railing.
“You two were gone for a while,” bellowed the big man. “Strange. Any sign of more?”
Zak ignored the insinuation. He gripped the rope ladder hanging over the side of the ship in one hand and started up it.
“No, that’s it,” he said, with a sigh. “But still, this is a better haul than any we’ve had in weeks. My extra five percent alone will be enough to feed me for a month.”
“Hachia gets the finder’s fee,” said Demetro. The youngest of the seven Under Princes of the Arkaian Isles slowly walked onto deck, eying Zak and Hachia with more confusion than suspicion. His clothes were only marginally less ragged than anyone else’s on the ship, but there was something in the way he walked and the look on his face that suggested authority.
“What?” shouted Zak. “I spotted them. The finder’s fee is mine, by right.”
“Let it go, Zak,” muttered Hachia. “I’ll split it with you.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” said Demetro. “I want you to have it for yourself, Hachia.”
And this is how it begins. Or rather ends, for me and Hachia.
Demetro flashed a perfect smile and leaned back against the wall of the middeck cabin. Zak gritted his teeth and tried to contain his scorn, still hanging from the top edge of the ladder. Demetro’s royal blood was only worth enough to grant him rights to the Sand Angel and one of the uninhabited outer Arkaian Isles that the rest of his brothers had left unclaimed.
Even Lord Richtor, the Under King of the Arkaian Isles, was a man of limited authority. The Arkaians had been vassals to the Malnians for almost a century. Many of the nobles of the Emperor’s court and even some of the more influential songstresses held more political power than the entirety of the province.
“Let it go, Zak,” said Bartrand. “We’ll all eat well tonight, and five percent is nothing to be splitting the sinking mood over.”
“Oh, blood and thunder, Bartrand,” said Zak. “I’d sink more than the mood if that’s what it takes to get my—”
Hachia was behind him on the ladder and announced her presence by giving him a hard slap on the butt.
“Knock off the language,” she said. “You’re in the presence of a lady.”
“You’re about as much a lady as I am a qyss,” said Zak. Hachia made a face at him, and he made one back.
He pulled himself over the railing, and then with Bartrand’s help and Hachia lifting from below, began to pull up the bundle of prism fish. Demetro watched them, stepping in to take Hachia’s hand and help her up the last few ladder rungs.
“She is a lady, and a beautiful one at that,” he said, smiling.
He’s clueless. And I’m an oceanfoot, with as much say and sway as one of these fish.
Under Prince Demetro had taken command of the Sand Angel three months ago, after the death of their last captain, old man Dagon. Zak still had fond memories of him, even if he’d been drunk most of the time, and had finished himself off on a batch of bad ale.
“Thank you, Demetro,” said Hachia. “It’s nice to know that someone still understands what it means to have good manners.”
Zak groaned, splitting off from the group instead of speaking his mind and saying something he would probably regret. He made his way up the main mast, climbing the old hardwood slats up to where the flag hung high above the deck. He switched out Demetro’s family banner for the fresh catch flag, which would alert any nearby and interested ships to their haul.
Bartrand whistled, drawing Zak’s attention while he still stood in the crow’s nest. He looked down at the deck to see the big man waving up at him, a mischievous grin splayed across his face.
“Give us your best dive, Zak!” he shouted. “Show us the one that won you the diving contest at the First Season Festival!”
Zak leaned his head to the side and smiled. He remembered the festival well enough. He’d spent a bit of time each day during the lead up practicing different flips on land, and different diving angles off the Palmian cliffs while they were in dock.
Hachia said something to Demetro that Zak couldn’t hear from his perch. Demetro made a boisterous gesture and immediately began taking his shirt off. He’d been there for the diving contest, too. A twisted ankle had kept him from participating, but Zak had seen his form before, and it wasn’t half bad.
“I’ll throw a dive,” Zak shouted, grinning down at Bartrand. “Under the condition that I get my finder’s fee.”
“You throw a better dive than me, and it’s a deal,” shouted Demetro. “Hachia will judge.”
“Hachia and Bartrand,” said Zak.
Demetro shook his head.
“Just Hachia.” He smiled at her, and Zak felt a sudden intense urge to vomit down onto deck.
The diving path from the crow’s nest of the Sand Angel down to the water was at a far less than ideal angle. Zak had thrown plenty of dives from the top of the mast before, and while it was doable, the forward momentum required to avoid slamming into the edge of the deck limited his acrobatic potential.
Demetro was already on his way up the mast by the time Zak had stripped his shirt off. He tossed it down to the deck below, and felt oddly pleased to see Hachia reaching out to catch
it for him.
“Don’t get it dirty,” said Zak. “It’s the only clean one I have left.”
Hachia stuck her tongue out at him and waved the shirt around her head, as though considering whether or not to throw it into the ocean. Zak cracked one of his knuckles in her direction, a gesture which by Malnian standards would have merited a prayer to the Worldmaker on behalf of anyone unlucky enough to be watching.
He stepped up onto the crow’s nest outer railing. The wood was thin and ill-suited to bearing the weight of a person. Zak only needed a single step, however, and he began prepping for it while plotting his path into the cerulean waters below.
Hesitation had never been a hurdle for Zak when it came to diving. He felt the fear in his chest, even only twentyish feet up, but it was the same fear he felt at the top of the highest Arkaian diving cliffs, with a hundred feet of open air beneath him. It was nothing he couldn’t handle.
Diving, like many things in life, was all about that first step. Once over the edge, all of the potential outcomes and possibilities narrowed down into a single strand, a single thread to hold onto and follow to the end.
Zak launched into a confident, twisting dive. His knees pulled up toward his chest, committing his entire body into several flips. He saw blurs of the sun, Krexellious, and Methrakia as he twisted upside down, and then the water as he came around.
One, two rotations, and then he untucked for the final stretch. The edge of the ship’s hull was only a few feet away from him as he sped by toward the water. There was good reason for why so few island divers ever attempted complicated tricks from the crow’s nest.
Zak hit the water smoothly, sinking down a dozen feet and taking a moment before doing anything to feel the last of the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The rush of a high level dive, at least to him, was better than being drunk off ale, or spirits. It was better than sex.
He took his time surfacing, even though his lungs ached for oxygen, his fast-beating heart running through the supply in double the normal time. When he finally took that first breath, the air tasted salty and sweet, and the sun felt good on his face.
Chaste Widow (Vanderbrook Champions Book 4) Page 17
