A Pirate's Dream (22 page)

“You be nice to my dragon before I knock you silly, you whale. He was only trying to help.”

He closed his eyes, and her anger dissipated under the weight of his obvious strain.

“Nimue, if anything were to ever happen to you, I do not think I could—”

“Shush,” she placed a finger against his lips, silencing his words. “Like I said, I am fine.”

“Thank the Goddess.” Then his hands were rubbing her arms, and she melted into his touch, as she always did. “Did Jian see to all your healing?”

She should say yes, so that the lumbering oaf would leave her be, but that would simply be petty. Truthfully, Nimue liked having him here with her and liked feeling cosseted and pampered.

“Nay. He missed my legs.” Her lips turned into a hint of a smile. She knew very well how her beluga loved to play with her legs.

His eyes danced. “Then perhaps”—he slid his palms beneath her skirt, and she sighed at the delicious sensations coursing through her, turning her body molten and weak—“I could help you with that.”

Being the Sea King’s favorite toy had its perks—like the fact that he could do much more with his mouth and tongue than simply give her air. She spread her legs as his lips replaced his hand, giving her a slow trail of teasing kisses along the inside of her thigh.

But there was no healing in this kiss; she’d been injured at her shins, though she certainly wouldn’t tell him so. Just yet.

“Here?” he rumbled, laving his tongue along the tip of her knee.

“A little...higher, I think,” she answered, breathless.

His laughter caused her flesh to tickle and made her fidget, but his grip was fast—the king was feasting and not to be disturbed.

It crossed her mind that her door was still open and that should anyone wish to, they’d be able to spot their king on bended tail, giving glory to a legger.

Drugged half out of her mind with need, she had just enough breath in her to mumble, “Door, beluga. Shut the door.”

Snapping his fingers, it slammed shut. The lock clicked into place an instant later.

She gasped, arching her spine when his devilish tongue licked the spot where her leg and center met.

“Good Gods,” she moaned, clutching at his skull with her nails as she tried to force him closer.

Chuckling, he nuzzled the side of her thigh. “Such meaty, delicious things these legs of yours. I think I should want them as my nightly snack. What say you, barracuda. Can I feast on them always?”

“Gah.” She wasn’t exactly sure what sound she’d just made. A mixture between a grunt and a groan, it seemed to tickle his fancy.

“No underwear,” he said. Then his finger slid down her wet heat, and she jumped. “Expecting me, were you?”

He glanced up at her, and seeing the big, powerful male who ruled all of the seas with an iron fist kneeling before her with his mouth mere inches from the very center of her, she spoke the words into being—the very ones that had hammered away in her heart these past many months. “I love you.”

Simply.

Easily.

Three words.

But they encompassed a wealth of meaning and devotion. And even if he didn’t say it back, she could not regret it, because they’d flowed from her heart.

He jerked, sitting up, his lips shimmering from his kisses, and awe reflected in the cool waters of his metallic eyes.

Framing her face, he held her as though she were precious and all things to him.

She melted into his touch, knowing that in all of Kingdom, she would never find another like him. Nimue knew of his great love for Talia and that he could probably never give her back what she’d given him. But her love was a gift with no strings attached.

“Nimue”—he breathed her name like a benediction—“do not leave me. When the six months are gone, stay with me always. Choose me.”

Her heart fluttered in her throat. Could he possibly mean that? Covering her mouth with nerveless fingers, she was lost for words.

He could do that—he was king. She’d never known a legger to choose to stay. Even her father hadn’t been able to stay for Talia; instead, she’d chosen to leave her people for his.

But Sircco could never leave.

His jaw tightened, and his fingers grew lax.

“Wait.” She clamped her hand to his. “Do you mean it? You want me to stay here? You will not grow bored of me? Regret my intrusion after a time?”

Each of her questions was met by a hard shake of his head.

The last part, she did not want to say, but she had to because it was the only way she could decide.

“I cannot stay for anything less than love.”

He trembled, lashes flickering. Then a great booming peal of laughter shook the rafters above, causing the bell flowers to release jets of gold powder through the currents.

“Hagfish, do you mean to say that you really don’t know?”

Tears caught in the corners of her eyes, and she nipped on her bottom lip, knowing in her heart that he felt it, too. But she needed to hear it all the same. “Then say it, beluga.”

“I wish you to my bride and consort. I love you with all my heart and soul, you prideful, stubborn—”

She punched his chest. “Mind your manners, whale,” she said between happy sobs.

“Beautiful legger,” he finished, bringing her hand to his lips and planting a kiss onto the center of her palm.

Feeling as though her heart might soon burst from her chest, she smiled as he swiped the tears from off her face with the pads of his thumbs. “I will not shame you? My legs?”

“Shame me? Oh, my pirate, don’t you know your legs are the best part about you?”

It took many hugs, kisses, and rapturous words of adoration before they settled down enough to remember the task at hand—namely, pleasuring her pains away.

She should have probably told him she’d long since stopped feeling anything other than joy, but then... he may not have finished, and everyone knew that pirates were a greedy lot.

S
tygia swam out from behind a row of swaying kelp, startling Cook so that she screamed, dropping her basket full of sea grass and clutching at her ample chest.

“Goddess blast it, woman!” she snarled then shook her head. “I am sorry. Only you frightened me. What on Seren are you doing in the queen’s garden at this early hour, Stygia?”

Stygia had timed her visit just so. Brushing her hand down her fin, to clean the sand off her tail. Patting her hair into place, she gave Cook a remorseful nod.

“I am sorry, Cook. Only...” Sighing heavily, she whipped the basket she’d held behind her back before her and pointed to the twin loaves of sea cake. “I wished to bring Nimue a peace offering. I acted poorly with her, and I can see now the error of my ways.”

Word had spread quickly through Seren that the legger had been spotted wearing a crown jewel. Specifically a ring made up of fire pearls—rare and precious jewels that were only worn by royalty or future consorts.

Time was running out for her.

For two weeks, Stygia had studied that vial, vacillating between a need for vengeance and the overwhelming but painful surety that there was naught she could to change the course of what’d been wrought between her king and his chosen.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she thrust the basket into Cook’s hands. “I had Maiven bake them, as I am a terrible cook. But”—she shrugged—“I did not think I’d be accepted back into the palace just yet.”

Frowning at the basket of cakes, Stygia could see Cook waging an internal battle. All knew that Maiven made the best cakes in all the realm, but Cook was right not to trust Stygia.

“For what it’s worth”—Cook finally looked at her, warm brown eyes full of sympathy—“I think the queen and king would receive you at court again, if you learned to approach them with kindness.”

Clamping down on her tongue, she glanced at the tip of her tail fin. “Nimue would never forgive me. Without that, neither would Sircco.”

If he only knew what she’d done, her king would obliterate her. Stygia trembled, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation and swim away.

“I think you’d be surprised what that tiny legger would do. She is not so bad as you may think her. She might be cursed to bear legs, but she’s the heart of the folk.” Cook dipped her head. “Thank you for the basket, I shall see to it that she receives it promptly.”

Stygia turned, swimming for home. There might not have been much time for her to make things right between her and Sircco, but she had to try. The only way to do that was by going through his legger.

*

A
knock sounded at Nimue’s door. Frowning, she flicked at Sircco’s nipple. “Beluga, were you expecting someone?”

The only person who ever knocked at her door was Sircco, and even he’d stopped that as of late. Now he simply tossed her door wide and entered. Good thing he was so adorable.

Stirring beside her, he squinted open an eye. “I am expecting no one. Come back to bed,” he growled, wrapping his arm around her waist and dragging her to his chest.

She giggled, rubbing her toes against his.

Every night still, he turned himself into a human. And though she loved the sex, she was more than ready to experience the fishy kind. Still, she had no idea how to exactly tell him so.

His teeth nipped at her left breast, and she moaned, wrapping a leg around his waist. Then another more powerful rap sounded at her door.

“I hear you in there,” Cook bellowed. “Open up, or I shall knock it down.”

“Bloody hell,” Sircco groaned, burying his face between the pillows of her breasts.

Smothering a laugh, Nimue cried out, “Hold your horses, harridan. Let me get decent.”

“No you don’t,” he said, twisting her around so that he had her plastered onto her side, and immediately wrapped one of his legs around her hip, pinning her fast.

Knocking Sircco’s leg off, she struggled up to a sitting position. “Stop it now, you officious whale, or so help me, you’ll live out your days missing one of your precious jewels.”

He hissed when she clutched him in her palm.

“My, what sharp teeth you have, my barracuda.” His eyes danced.

“Oh, bollocks.” She growled, tugging at the sheets. “Get off.”

She pulled so hard that she exposed him in the process. Growling, he reached for part of the sheet when Cook had obviously had enough of her waiting and shoved the door open.

She took one look at the king and arched a brow, staring not at his penis, as any sane woman might, but at his legs. She huffed then tutted with a curl of her nose.

Nimue choked on her laugh while Sircco glowered at the presumptuous cook.

“Cook,” he warned, “speak of this, and you shall not live to see the next sunrise.”

“I know not of what you speak, my king.” She sniffed. Then, turning toward Nimue, she said, “My lady, I had chance to run into Stygia this morning. She has brought you treats as a peace offering.” She wagged the basket in her hand.

“And you saw fit to interrupt our coital—”

“Sircco!” Nimue clamped a hand over his mouth, blood rising to her cheeks as Cook fought to keep from laughing. “You may place the basket on the vanity, Cook. Thank you.”

Sircco nipped at her hand when Cook turned, set the basket down, and promptly left, closing the door behind her.

“You, awful, odious—”

Laughing, Sircco snapped his finger, locking the door, then wrapped his arms tight around her and dragged her back down onto the bed. “Hush your face, hag, and kiss me.”

And she did.

*

S
ircco had planned to bring Nimue to the star pool several weeks ago, but he’d become rather obsessed with his legger as of late, and plans had fallen by the wayside.

But not today. Thanks to Cook’s interruption, neither of them had been able to fall back to sleep.

Today was warmer than it’d been in some time, and she’d seemed restless enough that he’d suggested the diversion, to which she’d readily agreed.

Floating gracefully down from Thunder’s back, she smiled as she stared at the entrance of the underwater cave. This part of Seren was imbued with wild magic thanks to the hundreds of glittering folk souls that enriched the sands. He saw the cave as though for the first time as she flitted toward it, a smile lighting her lovely features.

The cave was made of a type of silicate rock that gleamed an almost unnatural shade of white so startling, it appeared bone like. Blue glow illumined the entrance and the outer rim of the carved doorway. It rested upon a colorful array of sea coral that stretched for as far as the eye could see. And down here, in a place untouched by humans, Calypso tended to her own garden. So that it burst with flowers unknown within any other part of Seren.

The garden was a wild amalgam of sea and land and lovelier because of it. Nimue smiled as Jian swam from her hair toward a thick brush of seaweed and began snacking delicately on them.

Moving to the side, Sircco admired her silhouette. The sharp profile of her chin, the pointy, upturned nose, and the mouth that brought him to his knees when she suckled him.

His heart was full. Complete.

In all the years he’d craved Talia, he’d never known this depth of peace. Talia had been like an unremitting itch, painful and unyielding. But Nimue was his calm center. His lady of the lake meant everything to him, and he hoped she truly knew it.

“This place is so beautiful, Sircco.” She clasped her hands to her breast.

“This is nothing. The true beauty is inside. Come.” He held out his hand to her.

Walking toward him, she slipped hers into his, and his heart trembled. Would he ever get enough of her? Was there an end to love? Or was it something endless, without void, that only grew and grew until it consumed its host?

He rather hoped for the later. There could be no better way to die, surely.

The moment they stepped through the arched opening, the phosphorous glow brightened to a near-blinding intensity. Mingled with the utter darkness of the void, it truly looked as though they walked among the stars.

And then the song began.

The mermaid song.

The voices of the dead, who were not truly dead at all, but merely sleeping, singing now of their lives, their loves, who they’d been, and who they’d wanted to be.