by Dee Garcia
“Oh my God,” she pants, head lolling back, granting me access to the smooth column of her neck.
My fangs elongate of their own accord, vision hazing over in a tantalizing red, focusing on that one spot—the throb of her pulse.
“Why does this feel so good?” Her query distracts me, bring my focus back on the fact she’s grinding all over my cock with hypnotizing rolls of her hips.
“Because,” I grit, barely withholding myself from slipping a hand beneath her dress. “Everything is heightened, remember?”
“I want you in—”
“Captain?” A deep voice suddenly rings out behind us.
I recognize it to be Leandre just as Tinksley yelps, snapping her attention toward the booming source. She tries to move, but I hold her in place, unwilling to let her go. Cutting my gaze over my shoulder, I meet his sheepish, brown-eyed stare and raise an eyebrow.
“How can I help you?”
“Uh...Armand asked me to come find you. There’s someone here to see you.”
“What are you doing here?” I bark as I stalk into the foyer, hastily buttoning up my shirt.
Marlena’s expression quirks, eyebrow arching curiously. “Busy, are you?”
I scoff at her query and yank her into the parlor, locking the door after us. “Get on with it.”
“Guess you were.” She laughs. “Did I cut you so short you’re not even going to offer me a drink, Captain?”
Goddammit.
My jaw locks so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. “Apologies. Can I get you anything to drink,” I question, placing emphasis on the k.
“Please.”
“And what would you like?”
“Whatever you have.” An amused, satisfied smile stretches her face as she drops into one of the armchairs.
I don’t return it, beyond irate my time with Tinksley was cut short for her and likely one of her antics. The only reason I’m even getting her that drink is because I need one, too, before my balls explode.
Takes me all of a minute to serve us both a swig of bourbon and join her. I hand her the glass and fall into the chair at her side. “There, you’ve got your drink. Now, tell me, Marlena—what is so important that you've shown up, not only announced, but at this hour.”
Marlena swirls the amber liquid in her glass for a beat, then tosses it back. “I need your help.”
Can’t help being intrigued, but again—Tinksley. And said antics are definitely at play, usually is whenever Marlena “needs my help.”
“With what?”
“Persia.”
My head ticks a fraction. Now I’m really intrigued. “And why is that?”
The siren doesn’t appear as amused anymore. Her face has fallen, molded to a more serious degree. “Because…” I can sense her nervousness, how badly she wants to wring her fingers together. “Because we have N’Isabelle and I need you to convince Persia to let the girl cast the spell.”
The spell. The one where they’ll no longer be bound to the water. A spell so powerful, most witches would die after expelling that much energy.
And Marlena’s been talking about it for years.
My blood runs hotter than the sun. “You what?” I hiss.
“We have N’Isabelle,” she repeats quietly, palms rushing up in a way that begs me to listen before reacting. “She’s in the cove and she’s safe, unharmed. We may have Persia, too.”
“You may or you do?”
“We do.”
What in the actual fuck?
“How?” I press. “Was she not venturing to Lapiz?”
“She was and she did. But she returned for her daughter after the message made it across the ocean.”
I can’t believe this.
I’m so shocked by the information she’s imparting, I can’t remain in my seat. This isn’t good, not by any means. It’s grounds for a mutiny, a full-blown mutiny at that.
“Christ, Marlena! What were you thinking?” My hands fly to my hair. “You’re both on the council, supposed to be civil with one another!”
“I am! I think Persia’s great, but I want to be free, Cal—”
“Watch yourself,” I snap, jerking her head back in disbelief.
“Seriously? You slept with me how many times and—”
“I said, watch. Yourself. I don’t care if I fucked you to hell and back. Our arrangement is over, it has been for quite some time. You address me just as everyone else.”
The siren doesn’t speak for quite some time, clogging the room with a tense lull. I don’t speak, either, just stand there, regarding her, waiting.
“Fine, whatever. I want to be free, Captain.”
Last thing she’ll be now.
“How did you even get the girl?” I pace the same track before the desk.
“Pan.”
The sound of his name seizes every last bit of my attention, snapping my head to where she sits. “Pan? That’s not possible. He’s been—”
“Gone?” She sounds more amused than she should. “Wrong. You see, when he made the decision to leave, he found himself unable to access, much less find the portal. So he came to us—well, to Sabine. You know she’s always had a thing for him.”
I nod. Marlena and I had spoken about it in passing, but I didn’t declare it useful information. Pan didn’t give a fuck about that siren. They may have been friendly, but the sicko only had eyes for Tinksley.
“Anyway, we all found it rather interesting Pan wanted to leave so suddenly. He wouldn’t tell us why, but I, personally, didn’t care. We’re starving out there.”
Ah, the sympathy card. Should’ve known she’d play that. Not that it’s going to do much for her. “There’s only so much I can do.” The genuine truth. “Equality, Marlena. This land deserves that.”
“Because you’re so fair to the Fae, right?” she counters acerbically, narrowing her sky-blue eyes.
Mine, in turn, do the very same. “Do you really want them roaming free? I know you like to think you’re indestructible, which clearly is a facade since you’re, how did you word it? Starving. But you’re not immune to them.”
“I never said I was. I’m just reminding you that you like to act all high and mighty, but your circle of trust doesn’t actually go full circle.”
She’s not wrong, but the Fae essentially locked themselves up and she knows this. It’s not up for discussion, especially not right now in the midst of the debacle she’s thrown at my feet.
“Can you just get on with the story? It’s quite clear you helped the boy out. How?” I demand.
“Well...we may or may not have told him a little white lie.”
I motion for her to continue with an impatient hand, at my wits end with her pussyfooting around the damned bush.
“He believed he needed a sacrifice to access the portal.”
Silence.
Complete and utter silence.
As much as I detest Pan, I can’t blame him. He knew nothing about the portal and how it works. Marlena, however, did. She played him like a fool, and while she claims the girl is fine, I can’t ignore the sick feeling now lurching in my gut. “What are you saying?”
Setting her glass onto the rounded table between the two armchairs, Marlena rises to her feet, throat bobbing through a swallow. “Tinksley, apparently, made a deal with Persia to care for N’Isabelle through her voyage. The girl was to be left in Aester’s care until Tinksley could come pick her up.”
“Talk. Faster,” I grit, hyperfocusing on every move she makes now that she’s uttered my girl’s name.
“I told Pan. Pan agreed. He laid low in the cove until the day came around. Once Persia had made it on the ship and was out at sea, he did exactly what we told him to do; kill Aester as his sacrifice, and give us the little witch.”
Takes every godforsaken molecule of self-control I possess not to rush her and rip her throat out. All I see is red. “Do you understand the words that just came out of your mouth? Do you realize who you’re talking to?” I snarl, downr
ight fucking scandalized she’s just admitted this to me so brazenly, so nonchalantly.
Is she stupid, or does she want to die?
“I need to be free! I’m dying out there, Captain. We all are!” she stresses, holding her ground. “Finding sustenance is becoming harder and harder. Not a soul dares to sail our expanse of the ocean and—”
I'm on her before she can so much as blink, shoving her back into the door, my hand all but strangling her throat with such force her eyes bulge. “You want to be free? YOU WANT TO BE FREE!” I roar, boring every ounce of my rage into her. “I should kill you—then you’ll really be free.”
Sputtering.
Pale, flawless skin slowly turning blue.
She can’t breathe. Can’t do a thing about it, either, other than paw at my hand.
That’s the only good thing about sirens on land: their magic is useless. Well, no, it’s not their magic actually, it’s them. Sirens exert a great deal of energy when they’re free of the water. Their time is limited and they have to be fully sustained to even make the transformation. If they were to use their magic, their time would be cut short...by a lot.
That’s why she’s just standing here, taking it.
Because she can’t exhaust me.
Please, those blue eyes plead. Please, don’t.
I won’t. I should and I very well can, but I don’t. I wait just a smidge longer and, right as fear peaks, I loosen my grip and set her down on her feet. I want to know the rest of this story.
Gasping, Marlena grabs her throat, chest heaving through ragged breaths as she glares at me in disbelief.
In betrayal.
I lift my chin.
Don’t give a fuck if she feels betrayed. She’s gone and betrayed me—all of us; let her feel it. Might be good for her anyway. There’s still lingering feelings on her part, and I don’t have the time for that.
Tinksley is my time.
And time is precious.
“You have less than five minutes to wrap this up,” I growl. “Make it quick, Marlena, before I decide to drag you to the dungeon and let the brood show you how unfair I can really be.”
“Fuck you,” she spits, inhaling breath after breath in an attempt to calm her nerves.
“You did and you weren’t the best,” I toss back. “Now get on with it. Tick, tock.”
Oh the power my words have. They clearly sting given how she flinches, how she shakes her head. If I’m not mistaken, I note her eyes well with emotion, but she quaffs them down, pulling in another fortifying breath.
“He killed the witch and gave us the girl. We cloaked her to nullify any locator spells and put her in a slumber. She’s in the caverns, perfectly safe.”
“And her mother?”
“Same. But the spell won’t hold them both that long. I need you to be at Persia’s side when she wakes and convince her to—”
“Ehhh!” I lift an outraged hand. I’ve heard enough. “Time’s up. You can go ahead and show yourself out now because I’m not doing shit. If she slaughters the lot of you when they awake, then so be it. Otherwise, I better not see your face around here until the next meeting. Your last meeting, I should add. You thought you could betray my trust because you’ve had my cock inside you? Wrong, very wrong, my dear.”
Her tears fall freely now as she storms up to me, beckoning me to see reason. “You’re really going to let her kill me?”
“You deserve it. You took her daughter. Killed one of her sisters.”
“Please, Callan...” she whines, gripping my shirt.
“Captain, Marlena. It’s Captain.” I rip her hands off me. “May God be with you.”
Her mouth is my own personal wolfsbane.
Somehow, I think I always knew that; those lips were too perfectly pouty to be anything else.
But now that I’m experiencing them first-hand, wrapped around my cock on the deck of my ship, I know it’s one-hundred percent the truth.
She claims I’m her first encounter with fellatio, but I don’t know if I can believe that. She’s too skilled—the right amount of tongue and teeth, even the subtle, languid use of her small hand, how it travels between pumping what she can’t accommodate and caressing my balls.
“So good, baby girl—so fucking good. Keep going,” I groan, threading my fingers into her snowy white locks.
She hums at my encouragement and hollows her cheeks further, almost as if she’s determined to—
Fuck, she is. She’s trying to take me deeper.
No, not trying. She is.
Pushing me against the wheel for support.
Hand snaking up my abdomen.
Taking every solid inch I have to give her to the back of her throat.
My head falls back, the wooden spindles of the wheel digging into my back as I melt against them. “Fuck!” I hiss.
I’m not going to last. There’s no way.
I don’t even want to risk a glance down at her. It’ll ruin me. I’m a goner as is, but that imagery would do it for sure.
I literally can’t believe this is happening right now.
Tinksley Bell—the little halfling I’ve watched grow up over the years is on her knees for me, with my dick in her mouth.
And soon, I’ll be inside her.
Defiling her in a way even Satan himself would blush over.
Pan the little pansy, too. He might have been ill for her, but he never fucked her like I will.
I guarantee it.
“Come here.” I’m yanking her onto feet, crashing our lips together. My arms swallow her, forcing her legs around my body as I nearly devour her whole. Relish every singular, delicate note of her taste. “Can I have it, Tinksley?”
“Have what?” she breathes. The smallest, devious smile twitches her lips as I lick up her neck, shooting a thrilled gasp free.
I chuckle against her skin.
Saucy minx. She knows exactly what.
“You. I want you,” I rasp, pivoting in place with my damned pants at my ankles to set her against the wheel.
“Why do you keep asking permission? Just take it like you take everything else,” she quips.
“Because I don’t want to take it. I want you to give it to me.”
Except she’s not going to give it to you, my subconscious blares, sucking me out of the vortex of my fantasy.
No.
Hand still stroking my cock, I try to hold onto it just a little bit longer, but it’s gone—long gone.
Just like she will be in days time.
I deflate into my bed with a frustrated groan, dick throbbing, mind whirling with that vision, amongst other things. If you thought I was adamant on keeping her alive before, realize it’s only going to get worse now, more insistent. I know I told her I’d quit it, that I’d quietly respect her decision and let her do what she feels is best.
But I can’t. I just can’t. That’s not to say I won’t continue trying to keep myself in check, but I’m not making any promises.
Fantasy aside, that kiss was intense. I’ve never felt such ferocity with a simple co-mingling of lips. I want to feel it, to do it again and again and again. I want to devour her, consume her, possess her, fucking own her.
Bury myself so deep inside her there’s no deciphering where I start and she ends.
This need for Tinksley, it’s manic, driving me closer to insanity by the second. And if she does, in fact, leave me, I fear the worst for our realm.
I can’t lose her.
Have waited far too long for her.
For this moment where Pan no longer existed and I could sweep in to claim her as mine.
You may not have the chance though, my subconscious blares a second time. And it’s right, I might not.
I had hope she might be on the fence after what happened in the garden, after I confessed just how long I’ve been waiting for her, but Marlena burst that bubble in the mere blink of an eye.
Now, I have to deliver the news, a twist of events I’m sure Tinksley didn’t think p
ossible. There’s no telling how she might react, what she might do as a result.
A thought that, quite honestly, frightens me.
But I have to do so regardless.
She has the right to know.
♫ Moonlight Sonata No.14 -
Ludwig van Beethoven ♫
It’s getting worse.
Falling apart right before my very eyes.
And I’m useless to stop it.
I woke up to the tips of my wings consumed by darkness. From the looks of it, won’t be much longer till it overcomes at least half of them, either. I’d say another week and they’ll be engulfed completely. There’s an ache, too, one that wasn’t there before, almost like an inflamed throb coming forth from where my wings once expelled and retracted. It’s not unbearable, but they’re definitely tender, which has made it harder to sleep.
As if that wasn’t hard enough already.
My markings have continued their mutation as well. The balls of my shoulders hold not even a glimmer of their previous golden luminescence. They’re black, permanently, and it’s creeping downward along the rest of my upper arms. I keep wondering if it’ll stop at the edges of the last swirls, or if it’ll develop a mind of its own and continue the same pattern down the rest of my arms.
Wouldn’t surprise me.
Only time will tell, I suppose.
What’s worse still? I fear my hair is next. Just yesterday anyone would’ve classified me as a blonde. But today? My tresses, while still long, are white, all the more dull and untextured than before. Not silvered like that sweet, old woman, Violet, or that man I remember from my first night here. No, they’re a pale white, and right in the center, where I’ve always had a natural part, is now a dark line—as though my roots are suddenly coming in the same ominous shade that’s distorting my body.
What kind of monster will I resemble when I finally take my last breath?
I try not to think about it, to dwell on it because, if I’m being honest on any level, I’m terrified out of my mind. It’s hard enough to remember what it was like to die the first time, to jump from that cliff and realize there was no going back.
No saving me.
Now I have to do it again, and in an entirely different fashion. One where I don’t know what to expect.
