Page 81 of The Noble's Merman

“Keep your hold on him, standing for the moment,” Young said to his crewmen. “You can let go and have your turn with Fareham once we’re done.”

“Aye.”

Another couple of pirates who were standing around suddenly came close to Kent and his captor. Young let go of one of Kent’s arms—but it was quickly snatched by one of the other men with forceful, rough hands. There must’ve been a silent agreement they’d had with their captain—perhaps claiming first dibs on Kent and discussing it with Young beforehand—and Kent’s gut twisted.

Is there truly nothing I can do to stop this?

As the crewman who wasn’t holding onto his wrists started unbuttoning Kent’s waistcoat, his mind swirled in a dizzy frenzy. There had to be something, anything—and he thought of his most beloved, the one who’d sworn to protect him at all costs, no matter what. His chest pulsed with that same magic—even more intensely than before, clutching him, caressing him, holding him. If his merman’s head was above the surface, perhaps he could hear him?—

“Mo! Are you out there?! Help me!” he shouted.

“Shut up!” Young yelled at him back, and Kent flinched. “He can’t help you here. He can never have you as long as you belong to us.”

Kent could no longer shout, as his lips were forcefully sealed by Young’s mouth on his own.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Mo’s heart pounded madly. It felt like he was being stabbed in the chest with how intense the magic coiled around. It wasn’t just that, his stomach rolled with nausea. His head felt heavy, weighed down by stones. He clenched his jaw tight.

As he was swimming alongside Noon and Wenta, trailing the sloop John Beaut above them, the immense sensation boiling under his skin made him halt. The mermaid turned her head to look at him?—

“Mo, is something the matter?”

He held his temple with one hand, clutching at his hair, digging his blunt nails into his scalp. But each pulse of magic threatened his claws to come out. He couldn’t respond to her, not yet, not when every essence of himself was being consumed by the overwhelming feeling.

He heard a voice shouting, muffled through the water, yet the magic enhanced it clear enough so he could understand the words?—

“Mo! Are you out there?! Help me!”

“Kent!”

He quickly straightened his back and looked up, up to the ship floating on the surface.

“Kent is in danger!”

Wenta blinked, then covered her mouth with one hand in shock. “Are you certain? How can you tell?”

“I’m not sure exactly how, but I know in my heart what is true. I heard him shout… it must be the magic that connects us.”

“Then you must go to him,” said Noon next to them, low voice booming. “He needs your help.”

“But how can you get to him?” asked Wenta. “The pirates won’t let us on board!”

“If Kent is in trouble, I don’t need their permission.” Mo held out his hand in front of him, extracting his claws. “I’ll get up there one way or another.”

Wenta sucked in her lips, brows furrowed with concern. She took in a deep breath through her gills, and exhaled, nodding once, slowly. “All right. Please take care. Good luck.”

Mo nodded back, extracting the claws of his other hand. “Thank you.”

“I’m starting to feel something, too. I’m worried about Seth.” She put her hand flat in the middle of her chest. “I’ll keep watch from the water’s surface.”

“All right.”

“I will keep watch too,” said Noon. “As long as the water remains safe.”

“Thank you both.” Mo managed a smile. He took his carry-bag off his shoulders and set it atop Noon, knowing it would only slow him down if he kept it on. It didn’t matter if he lost it. None of its contents mattered more than Kent’s safety.

As quickly as his tail would allow, he kicked and kicked, swimming up to the surface. He flicked his hair back once out in the open air, gulping in a deep breath, and gazed up at the ship—looking for any trace of Kent, and where he should enter from.

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