Page 79 of The Noble's Merman

“I suppose so.” Kent managed to smile back.

Soon enough, Seth joined them again, glad to be out of whatever situation was happening above deck. Kent thought it prudent to tell him of their encounter with Young, and so he did. Seth was sickened by the words of his captain. He held his hand flat on his chest in astonishment as he sat down, continuing his conversation with their trio.

“I know you all may think I’m vulgar with my own language,” said Seth, “but I would never threaten to violate someone. Why would the captain say such a thing?”

Kent let out a warm sigh. He was glad that out of all the pirates, it seemed they had made a friend on their side. “Is there anything you can say to perhaps make him back down? You are one of the crew. He’d listen to you closer than he would me, and even Allen.”

Seth chewed on his tongue, looking down at the floor. “Captain will only change his tune and listen to the crew if a majority votes on a subject. With the words I’ve heard from the other mates above deck, whispers about you, things they don’t believe are loud enough to be heard… I’m afraid my opinion would be in the minority.”

Kent’s stomach lurched. Seth really was a good man. If only there was something he could do to not only save Allen off this ship, but Seth, too.

“I’m also afraid,” continued Seth, “that if I were to speak out of turn, what Young would do to all of us. I don’t hold any doubts that if he were angered enough, he’d let go of any promises and act on his own whims. He’s a ruthless man when he can be, in truth.”

Kent’s breath hitched in fear, but was quelled by the gentle touch of Allen’s hand on his shoulder again. “We must play it safe,” said the redhead. “You will return to England unharmed. You will see your merman again. We’ll do what we can, right, Seth?” He turned his head to the pirate.

“Right.” Seth nodded.

Kent nodded as well. Lord, if only he could see Mo. He missed his gentle touch, he missed the comfort of holding him, he missed his reassuring kisses. While Mo likely had no more power than the humans had to protect him, that didn’t matter. He knew his beloved would do whatever it took to ensure Kent’s safety.

But would he even go as far as using the Siren’s Song?—?

Kent schooled his face so Allen and Seth wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

No, he’s not a siren. He wouldn’t lie to me, right?

The sentiment had toyed around in his mind ever since Allen had brought it up as a possibility. If Mo was lying to him, what would that mean? If he was a siren, what was he capable of? What had he done in the past—had he really killed other humans using some otherworldly power? Could he really have done something so horrific, so terrifying, so monstrous?

How would that make any sense, when Mo wanted for his own life amongst humans, and loved a human—Kent himself?

A lump rose in his throat, threatening the taste of bile.

Yet the magic that connected him to his merman pulsed in his chest. Mo was nearby. He could sense it; he could feel his presence even if he couldn’t see him. The lump dissolved away almost as quickly as it came.

He put his hand over his heart and felt the magical warmth, comforting him enough to let him shoo away those nagging thoughts.

TWENTY-SEVEN

The next day rolled in, and surely, they must be close to England now. Kent supposed it had been at least a week since he’d seen Mo, right? He could hardly wait, as he sat on the wooden floor singing to himself, Allen nearby resting in the hammock, Seth once again above deck. He’d done quite a bit of singing this past fortnight, as there was not much else to do either way, and none of the pirates ever complained of the noise. But singing was always something that made him feel better, even in his darkest of moods.

It reminded him of Mo. Of course, because that was exactly how they’d met. Kent had sung to the sea and Mo heard his voice, telling him how beautiful he thought it was. Magic pulsed within him as he thought of his beloved, a calm steady beat, enhancing the sweet emotion in his voice as he sang the same lullaby he’d sung on that very day.

Though that calmness was short-lived when the door to their small room flung open with force.

It was Captain Young once again?—

—digging his eyes into Kent like daggers, smiling like a fool, licking his lips as if there were a banquet right in front of him?—

—as if Kent were his feast.

Allen swung himself out of the hammock, standing upright. Kent followed suit, getting to his feet—barefoot at the moment—and took to Allen’s side, standing slightly behind him. Thankfully, unlike last time, Kent was mostly dressed: breeches, shirt, cravat, and waistcoat.

“Good morning,” said Young with a peculiar twang of glee in his voice. “I am pleased to inform you two that there has been a vote amongst the crew.”

Appearing right behind the captain were two more pirates—the same tall, menacing, muscular men who Kent remembered as the ones who escorted Allen into this room in the beginning.

A vote? He remembered Seth mentioned that a vote would have to occur for the captain to change his mind on a subject, however… if it were for what Kent wanted, Young wouldn’t be appearing before him pleased. He wouldn’t have that disturbing, hungry grin on his face, as if he were graced with the news that they’d found a King’s fabled buried treasure.

“What sort of vote?” asked Allen, holding his arm out to the side and keeping Kent behind him.

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