Belle and the Pirate

by Vivienne Savage

  “I can give you what you ask for, but only for a short while. It will not be permanent, for such magic would have too dear a price to you.”

  “That’s okay! I only want to see what it’s like for a little while so I can do more things with James.”

  Hawk chuckled and followed her with his hazy gaze. “I see. I can grant you three days and three nights, but there will be a price.”

  Only three days? Her spirits drooped and she lowered to a perch on the table. Were three days long enough to learn what it truly was to be human? To spend time with James the way she wanted to?

  “What’s the cost?” she asked.

  Ghost Hawk’s smile faded, leaving a solemn expression on his wizened face. “For all magic, there is always something to be given in exchange. To make you human, even for so short a time as three days, will cost you some of the time you have remaining in this world. One year of your short life for each day. This is by no choosing of my own, but what fate has designed for miracles of this nature, to give you, such a small sprite, the body of a mortal woman.”

  Three days meant three years. Tink had never pondered her lifespan before. Until James, no one had ever given her any reason to question her mortality. Sprites lived fleeting, brief lives filled with happiness and play. She’d already seen double-digit summers when Conall saved her from a trap years ago. How long had she been with him since then?

  How old am I? How long will I be here? she wondered.

  As they were so little, even a short time seemed a great while to the peaceful woodkin.

  “Three years could be all I have,” she whispered.

  Ghost Hawk offered his hand and she climbed up onto his palm, allowing him to lift her up to his eye level. His opaque, unseeing eyes stared straight through her. “Very close I’d say, but of course, the choice is yours.”

  “What would you do?” she asked him.

  “Are you happy as you are now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you love yourself?”

  “I do.”

  “Then why do you want to do this? Why become a mortal woman?”

  “I…” She thought of all the experiences she’d longed to do. She wanted to hold little Kendric in her arms. She wanted to sit at the dinner table among her friends and hold their hands. To ride a horse. To swing a weapon. To spin the impressive wheel at the helm of the ship and leap joyously into James’s arms.

  She wanted him to lift her from the floor and spin her around the quarterdeck with her crushed to his chest, not because she weighed less than an ounce, but because she was a mortal woman of his own size.

  Closing her eyes, Tink imagined so many wonders humans took for granted.

  “I want to experience life as a human.”

  “The Wai Alei have a saying we teach our children. ‘Live each day as if it may be the last.’ There is truth in these words, little one. No one knows with certainty when their end will come, but it is up to us to enjoy each day knowing when it arrives, we will have no regrets.”

  Tink nodded. “Do you have any regrets?” He was old, certainly he’d lived a long enough time to accomplish everything he could possibly dream of doing.

  “Only one.”

  While tempted to ask, something in his sad voice and forlorn features dissuaded Tink. “I want to do it. Not only for James, but for me. I want to experience things before I’m gone.” She wanted to return to her homeland with amazing stories of climbing the mast, firing the cannons, and dancing across the deck beneath the full moon. And, most of all, she didn’t want to live the rest of her short life regretting a missed opportunity.

  “As you wish.”

  Ghost Hawk set her aside on the table and moved to his counter, sorting through an array of jars and pots. Tink lingered behind him, out of the way, too curious not to watch but half afraid of what she’d see him mix up. Hawk crushed herbs and pearls together in his mortar, adding unlabeled oils and strange roots she had never seen before. With each step, the shaman chanted in a language she realized she didn’t understand, which was a first.

  “Now it’s up to you to add the final ingredients,” he said, beckoning her over. “Come. Come.”

  “What do I need to add? I don’t know how to offer up my age.”

  He offered her a thorn, the tip of it as sharp and narrow as her lost dagger. “Three drops of your blood, no more, no less, and a sprinkle of your dust will do.”

  Tink drew a crimson droplet from her finger and made sure it dripped into the mixture, followed by two more. The magical concoction puffed out hazy pink smoke.

  “Now the dust, little one, and hold your intentions in your heart.”

  Please make me big. Make me human, she wished as she held her hands to her heart and fluttered over the potion. Fine golden motes of dust sprinkled down and disappeared into the mixture, turning it from murky brown with pink steam to a pearly hue laced with gold.

  Hawk gave it a final stir then scooped it all into a tiny glass vial as big as she was tall. It had shrunk and cooked down to a fraction of its original volume, filling less than half the vessel.

  “Now what?”

  “Take this back to your ship and drink it all down. Every little bit.”

  “Will it taste bad?”

  “Potions are rarely sweet, little one. It might upset you some, but you must drink it all. If you do not drink it tonight, the potion will lose its potency, but your years will still have been given.”

  “Thank you, Ghost Hawk.”

  “Go, and be happy.”

  Chapter

  TINK TOOK THE potion back to the ship as instructed and gobbled the vial down once she was within the privacy of James’s room. The amount bloated her belly and left her curled in a fetal position on the floor. Nothing had changed except for the addition of a sour stomach on top of her anxious nerves. The drink hadn’t been pleasant, as warned, and she thought she might be sick.

  One moment she was darting for a little bowl to vomit in and the next, instead of flying, she was running. On feet. Two big and awkward feet, stumbling over a bunch in the floor rug and pitching her naked body to the floor. The little bits of her favorite flora dress floated down to the floor as mere scraps, although the leaves and grass had been wilting anyway and long overdue for a replacement from the new feather wardrobe she’d made.

  The shaman hadn’t mentioned that bit, although she should have realized the magical concoction wouldn’t affect her clothing.

  Nausea gone in an instant, Tink stared at herself in disbelief. Everything looked so much smaller, and the carpet under her feet had become soft and squishy, ticking her toes instead of swallowing her in the fibers.

  “Oh no!” she realized, a hand flying to her throat. The fragile strand securing her pearl had popped, too, but the little pink pearl wasn’t in sight. Fretting for her pretty trinket, she searched the floor on her hands and knees.

  James’s voice carried through the closed doorway. Panicked, Tink jumped to her feet and spun in circles while seeking clothes, unable to find anything but James’s tidy wardrobe closet filled with breeches and tunics. The door opened.

  “Honestly, Peter, do you never grow tired of climbing into the crow’s nest?” James asked, though he was shouting for his voice to carry up to the young man.

  “Noooooo,” Tink silently screamed, no sound leaving her. He wasn’t supposed to return yet, but he also hadn’t stepped into the room or looked inside. He stood at the threshold, talking over his shoulder.

  With nowhere else to hide, she leapt into the bed and burrowed beneath the covers, pulling them up and over her head.

  The door thumped shut, and James’s steps traveled from it to the trunk where he’d placed her dollhouse. “Damn. She’s not back yet. Where could she...” After a moment of silence, and a low groan, his steps drew nearer to the bed. “I’ve told you before, I’m not interested.”

  Not interested? Oh goodness. He must have seen her, but when had he ever expressed his disinterest bef
ore?

  He must have thought her to be one of the other ladies on the island who had become fixated on him, although they had seemed too numerous for Tink to count. Planning to flee the bed and dart away, until she remembered her missing wings, she continued to cower, with only the sheets against her bare skin, and nothing between them. “My wings!”

  The shaman had warned her, but it hadn’t clicked, and James had come in so soon after her transformation, the reality hadn’t set in yet. She bolted upright, only the thin blanket held against her chest between them, her hair a tumbled mess around her pointed face.

  * * *

  The first mate of another pirate captain who frequented the islands had made it abundantly clear that she wanted to be in James’s bed a year ago. So clear, she’d waltzed onto the deck of his ship, into his cabin, and actually crawled into his bed. Not a man on the Jolly Roger’s crew had stopped her.

  And why should they have any reason to suspect their captain would be disinterested?

  Now that the Scarlet Brigade was moored nearby, she had done the exact same thing again.

  “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand bloody times, Patricia, stay out of my cabin and off my—”

  The woman sprang up, defying his expectations of red curls and ruby lips. Belle gazed at him, instead, her face surrounded by disheveled golden waves of waist-length hair tumbling over his sheets and a body far too large to make any sense. If she could grow, she’d have told him, wouldn’t she? Staring at her while willing his voice to cooperate with his brain, he realized when he saw her bare toes on the rug that she wore nothing but the steel gray linen.

  “Uh,” he said, normally so articulate, now struck dumb.

  “My wings are gone. He said they’d go away, but I didn’t realize how strange it would be,” she blurted, making no sense to him whatsoever, because all of the blood necessary for nourishing his brain had promptly flooded to intimate southern regions.

  “Um,” James replied again, bewildered. “You’re…” The sweeping gesture of his hand toward her woman-sized body failed to communicate his concerns.

  “Big?” she finished for him.

  “Yes. That.”

  Belle smiled in a bashful, adorable manner and patted the bed beside her. “Lie with me. Then I can tell you everything.”

  The invitation, as innocently as it was offered, brought his mind to the wrong places. He took a step closer to her while wiping his damp palm against his left thigh.

  “Erm...” Something about the suggestive nature of her words after finding the woman of his dreams naked in his bed broke him, like a child’s toy. A wrinkle furrowed his brow. Below his belt, he throbbed with an intense and sudden surge of arousal. “I don’t think… How did you?” He ripped his gaze from her modest bosom to her face. She had freckles. “You’re big.”

  “Is it okay? Do you like it?” Her smile dimmed. “Maybe you want to sit on the chaise instead?” She twisted, misjudging her meager covering, which gave him a glimpse of her slim, pale body. She was a flawless canvas of ivory, hair more golden than any blonde he had ever seen, eyes as bright and deep as emeralds. But there were no wings. No glow.

  “No—I mean yes, yes it’s okay.” But why, was the better question? Why had she changed herself, and how had she done it? If she’d been able to change her size all along, why had she waited so long and until now? He approached her slowly but didn’t move into the vacant spot beside her. “Why were you in my bed, Belle?” he asked gently. He tugged the sheet to cover the long length of bare thigh and exposed hip.

  “Oh, well, when I changed, my clothes didn’t. So…” Her lips pressed together, and a flush swept into her face, but it wasn’t the same as the red glow he’d become accustomed to when she was angry. Belle stood, and the sheet fell away. “I’ll go then, if you’re unhappy.”

  “Go? And where the hell do you plan to go, naked as the day you were born?” Were fae even born naked? He knew nothing of them but what his sprite had told him, as there were none in Eisland, their magical creatures only ice elementals and stone nymphs in the mountains. And the latter were terrifying, horrible, and wicked she-beasts who dragged men into cavern walls to devour them. Nothing like her, with her radiance and innocent smiles.

  Catching the edge of the sheet with his hook, he drew it back up and attempted to cover her again.

  “Am I ugly?” she blurted. “I must be an ugly human.”

  “What? No. Far from it, and there are men aboard this vessel who haven’t had a woman in months. While I’d like to think the best of them all, I’d prefer not to have to shoot anyone and toss his corpse into the sea for disrespecting you.” That was a half-truth, since most of those men had a woman of their own or had visited the island’s brothel by now. If James was honest with himself, he wasn’t prepared to share her beauty with the world.

  “Oh.” She sat down again and allowed him to cover her.

  Unprepared for the conversation required by their situation, he gingerly sat beside her. His hand fell to her thigh. “Now, let’s start over again so you can please tell how you came to be this way.”

  “I wanted to do things with you,” she mumbled, looking down at her feet rather than up at his face. “The shaman said it would only last for three days.”

  “You did this for me?” His chest became as tight as the constrictive trousers, and he shifted, grateful her eyes hadn’t dropped to his lap.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “For us both.”

  He missed her wings. It felt a petty, ridiculous thing to want back, but it was such an integral part of her that she seemed almost different. The lack of pointed ears changed her entire face, though her curves were as sumptuous and delightful. Only bigger. He’d have to sacrifice his bed to her, of course, as was the gentlemanly thing to do. “I’ll fetch clothes for you from Eliza. You’re about her size now. Would you like that?”

  “I suppose so.” She wriggled her toes into the soft carpet and giggled. Shyness melted away and she looked up with a big grin. “Does this mean I can wear a dress? Something pretty so we can take a walk together on the beach.”

  “You can wear whatever you like, Belle. Perhaps we can even acquire a few pretty dresses from town.” Bartering a wardrobe for her wouldn’t be difficult, as they were always weaving beautiful silks and dyeing them for the young women. He imagined her in them, and the relentless, merciless throb worsened. “I should find you something to wear in the meantime.” Having the restraint to resist her didn’t mean he wanted to continue punishing himself.

  “You’re not happy, though.” Her brows scrunched together. “I wanted… I thought you liked me. So I went to the sea witch, but she wanted to chop off my wings.” She shuddered, her whole body trembling, while his own stomach dropped and a chill crawled up his spine. “But then the shaman said he could help me, and all it cost was my time and help. He said I’d get my wings back when I go small again, but for now I could enjoy being big.”

  “I am happy, Belle.” Albeit horrified when she mentioned Caecilia. He was always happy whenever his sprite was near, and he’d begun to dread the return trip to Cairn Ocland because he didn’t know how he could survive her not sleeping in his quarters at night. He’d miss her singing in the morning, her cheerful twinkling whenever he shared a new wedge of cheese from the pantry, and he’d... He struggled with his emotions.

  Belle raised his left hand from her thigh and pressed their palms together, the same way she’d done a million times when her entire body was smaller than his pinky. With a larger hand, she laced their fingers together. “Your hand has rough spots,” she said in wonder.

  “Indeed,” he murmured. She still smelled like his Belle, despite her larger size, feminine and sweet, with a hint of floral fragrance.

  “Mine don’t. Is that bad?”

  “Not at all. Mine are rough from a lifetime of working on boats.” Despite himself, James raised her knuckles to his lips and delivered a gentle kiss. “You’re very beautiful like t
his, but I’d never want for you to lose your wings,” he finally told her before fixing his gaze on her face. “And I also don’t want you to go near the sea witch again.”

  “Oh, I won’t.” She leaned close and lowered her voice, face serious. “She’s scary.” She gave a solemn little nod and inched closer, until their thighs touched. “Do you really mean it?”

  “That you’re beautiful? Have I ever lied to you?”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  A disconnect occurred between his brain and aching arousal, urging him until he ended their handhold and curved an arm around her waist. Lifting her onto his lap was easy, both of her slim thighs together, the sheet still bunched around her front. He touched his nose against her hair and breathed her in, hating himself for being weak.

  She settled in against him and laid her cheek on his shoulder. “James?”

  “Yes?”

  She turned her head, breath feathering across his neck, one hand settling on his chest. “Do you think you’d ever want me to stay like this?”

  “Stay like this?” Once more she had reduced him to a state of babbling and repeating her like a fool. He groaned when she wiggled against him, seeming too innocent to realize what she’d done—what she was still doing to him—and for that reason, he tried to still his fingers without pawing her up and down.

  “Big, I mean. Like you.”

  “You’re meant to be a sprite, Belle. The better question to ask is whether you’d be happy to stay like this? Would you be happy to sacrifice days on the wind, flying from flower to flower?” He took one of her small hands and traced her palm. “Would you miss your magic?”

  Belle wiggled again, albeit gently, and any theories he had related to her innocence shattered. His fae knew exactly what she’d done, because she did it again, urging a low groan from him.

  “I would miss flying,” she admitted. “But when I’m small, I can’t do this.” She kissed his collarbone. “Or hold your hand. Or share a proper meal.” She leaned back so she could look in his face. “I only have a short time like this. A short time left with you.”