Page 26 of Shiver Me Satyr

Something about the sparkle in his eyes and the intimacy of the moment makes me want to believe someone will swoop in and reverse my mistakes. I want my wish to come true for once. When was the last time I allowed myself to wish?

When Richard smashed my dreams and took what I loved most about myself.

“I wish I had the carefree life I had when….when…when I had my tentacles.” A tear slips from under my eyelid, tracks down my cheek, and lands on my thumb. Damn Richard for ruining who I used to be. And damn myself for allowing it to happen.

When my eyelashes flutter open, I find Hybris staring at me with his jaw dangling from his face.

“You heard that, didn’t you?”

“No, I’m just agog you actually did it.” He recovers quickly, but I’d be a fool to believe him. The damage is done, but what’s oneOtherknowing their captain was anotherOther? “Are you okay?”

“Well, I’ll beagogif you find a way to make it come true for no other reason than to prove it works.”

14

Flint

Like boats circling in Magda’s journals, the pieces of the mystery of Captain Betts fall into place. After our moment on the bowstrip and almost falling into the black abyss, I understand why she’s frosty. I’d guard my heart, too, if someone took away what makes me anOther. Nightmares of my horns falling off or my hooves detaching when caught between the planks of the deck kept me away half the night. The other half, I lusted over Bettina’s face tilted toward the sky, stars shining on her skin, her eyes closed as if waiting for a kiss, the breeze caressing her face with tendrils of fiery hair, and a serene smile curving her lips.

At that moment, she wasn’t with me; she was deep in the black water as a creature—wild and unbothered by the silly problems of the civilized world. I longed to join her in her fantasy. Damn, I’ve got it bad for her.

When the sun peeked through the peepholes of the orlop deck, I knew what I must do. If I want to break the icy shell around her heart, I must restore the tentacles Richard took. Pastor Dick. I don’t know what magic made the switch—doesn’t matter when I’m not a magic user. What I can give Captain Betts is the strategy from studying Magda’s journals.

Magda wrote about a few magic users. I’m still unclear whether Branko is a magic user, but his sister, Chevelle, definitely is. Chevelle has the power to restore Betts’s tentacles,I know it. I roll over in my hammock to retrieve Magda’s last journal, where she wrote about her parley with Chevelle on the mysterious island.

Yes! Here it is! Chevelle even beat the yellow fever that rocked the Caribbean a few years ago. None of my father’s boats would sail south of Carolina, then, for fear of the yellow death. The virus attacked people of European descent exclusively, as if Mother Nature were showing her displeasure at the growing slave trade. Strong men the size of mountains died, bleeding from their noses, mouths, and eyes. Chub, Teeth, Magda, and many others of the original crew ofPatricia’s Wishapproached Chevelle with the fever…and somehow, they all survived.

The stories are written from a very sick Magda’s point-of-view, so much of the magic is left out. I couldn’t duplicate the magic if she wrote the herbal recipes and incantations down anyway. However, I’ve shaken hands with Teeth and Chub, who are still with us…in one form or another. That’s the last piece of Betts’s puzzle. Teeth is human in the journals, but now he has tentacles longer than I am tall. Something in the Kraken sisters’ magic must extend to someone they give their love—most likely their first love.

Teeth chose tentacles and a life with Sabs. Pastor Dickhead chose to live up to his title. He crushed Bettina’s heart, changed her indefinitely, and created the frosty Captain Betts. He never saw the damage he caused. I could rip his head off with my bare hands if Catalina hadn’t already with her spinnerets.

Betts won’t be happy when she discovers my plan…until it works…

Will making her wish come true be enough for her to open her heart to me?

If she would give me half a chance, she would see I’d choose what makes her happy. If she wanted to continue on the boat, I’d be her quartermaster with my talent for strategy and accounting at her disposal. If she wanted to return to the sea with her family, I’d enjoy learning about her eggs…oh Lord in the heavens above…

The journal falls to the floor, interrupting the snores of the drunks around me. Anyone could get up at dawn, rushing off to do twice the chores to cover for those slumbering around me. If I were quartermaster, I’d have to get up and supervise—maybe even get my hands dirty.

As I am nothing to this boat—yet—I can get my hands dirty right in my bunk. I cup my cock through my trousers before sliding my fingers beneath the gaping laces. With Bettina’s taste on my lips and the sweetest expression behind my eyelids, I grip myself, tugging and pulling like I imagine her internal muscles would consume me. Locked together, we’d smother one another in kisses flavored with promises of love and forever. Bettina’s tragic tale is one of passion. Her fiery love would threaten to scorch my frayed heart, burning away my soiled reputation, making me ready to become a better man for her.

I’d be the one she turns to for help…the one who protects her…the one who pleasures—

Ding, ding, ding.

Fuck!

The all-call bell on deck wakes my companions at the worst possible moment. I spill with one hand around my cock and the other stuffed into my mouth to keep from groaning. There are no secrets on board, and I’ve witnessed more than my fair share of men wanking their planks, but something about my fantasy of Captain Betts makes it more private. Nobody canread my mind—except maybe Chub, who seems to be able to do everything else—but I don’t want them to see the fluids I expelled for her either. Is this what happens when you care for your partner? You get possessive?

No wonder all those husbands threatened to kill me. If one of herheartieswanked to fantasies of her, I’d kill him; if one of them had a no-strings-attached affair with her, I’d…

Be a hypocrite.

Dammit.

Feeling lower than dirt, I piss in the communal bucket in the corner and use one of my shirts to wipe my hands. Bath day should be coming up soon, by the rank smell of the galley; I can do laundry then. The midday sun smacks me harder than the realization that I’ve been an ass my whole adult life. I moan with the rest of the hungover and half-drunk pirates as we reach the main deck.

Betts is at the bell. She’s piled her hair on her head and wrapped it in a green fabric that matches her eyes. I can’t believe I missed her working in a tiny scrap of fabric instead of her usual, oversized shirt. She’s swapped her typical leather pants for linen shorts that leave her legs and belly bare to the sun. The crew may laugh and tell her to put her dairy away, like they would a little sister, but I have the urge to return to my bunk for another round…or maybe drag her into the captain’s quarters and lock the doors.

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