Page 8 of Shiver Me Satyr

“Those are herbs. I’m talking about spices.”

“Oh? I’ve worked with chillis, chocolate, herbs, and salts—all of them spices. What exactly are spices that come from rocks? Will you throw this into the oven? It will bake while we get the next batch ready.”

“Sure,” I reply, turning to the fiery inferno in the corner will give me time to imagine what spice rocks look like in the wild and where they would be found. Why do I lie? They fly through my lips with ease from years of practice. The women I seduce want my looks and stamina in our first encounter, but if I want a second, I must insinuate that I have the wealth of my family. Nobody knows I’ve never left Boston, let alone New England.

This oven isn’t more than a stone box full of fire. Flames roar when the logs split from their perch on coal piles. There’s not enough room for the large square pan, so I must use the scoop to push the glowing embers away from the door. The scoop sits next to the oven and is hot to the touch. I blink backtears as my delicate skin blisters on my palms. The sunburn on my cheeks and nose tingle when the heat kisses them.

“Push it back further, or the biscuits on the edge won’t be as baked as the ones on the inside edge of the pan,” Catalina scolds.

“Oh yeah,” I reply as if I were getting to it instead of cowering from the flames taller than Catalina inside the stone mouth. It’s like staring through the gates of hell at the demons within. Gulping hot air in shallow pants, I reach tentatively to push the pan with two fingertips. My lacy shirt cuff is usually held in place by my woolen jacket, but it’s too hot for that on the boat. The dainty weave droops from my wrist and brushes the coals.

“I’m on fire,” I whisper. Then, louder, I say to Catalina, “I’m on fire.”

She springs into action when my limbs won’t cooperate. She pulls me backward by my shoulders and thrusts me aside. A few orange rocks of coal tumble out of the oven. I fall on my ass behind the frantic cook. My hands break my fall before my head hits the wooden floor. Catalina scoops the glowing coals from the floor with the shovel and tosses them into the oven before stomping out the floor’s fire with her boot.

Tears flow down her cheeks.

She’s screaming. Was she screaming the whole time?

“Catty, my love—” Chub appears at the doorway. A bell rings in the distance. He pauses for a split second before grabbing his wife and sending her on deck. “You’re on fire, you puddingheaded idiot.”

“It was my sleeve,” flies out of my mouth like someone else said it. His head swings, so I follow his gaze to the ring offire that surrounds me. My lips pull apart to scream, but nothing comes out.

“The floors are oiled. Water won’t put out the fire. Don’t do something stupid like try to jump overboard. You will fan the flames. Just don’t move.” His calm, strong, sure voice hypnotizes me. I nod in time with his nodding.

“Move!” Betts yells as she shoves Chub aside. She carries a heavy woolen blanket. My vision goes black as she drops it over me and knocks me flat. My head hits the floor again. Pain explodes through my skull. Smoke fills my lungs. Someone pats me everywhere on the other side of the blanket while a weight rests across my thighs.

“It’s out,” Chub says. “Quick thinking saved the boat. Well done, Captain.”

“Are you hurt?” A wild-eyed Betts pulls the blanket from my head. Her red hair lies over us like a sheer curtain. She leans on her elbow against my ribs, but our pelvises are aligned in the most delicious way. “I asked if you are hurt, Hybris. Are you in shock?”

“He’s had his daylights scared out of him, Captain. Should I get some mateys to carry him to his bunk, or do you have somewhere else to put him out of his misery?”

The fog lifts. Is Chub suggesting I go to her bed in the captain’s quarters? Because my cock agrees with that assessment. For once, the quartermaster and I are in complete alignment. A tumble with Captain Betts in her quarters will make me right as rain. The first stirrings of desire course through my veins and swell my marriage rod as she rubs those slender fingers over my arms and up my legs.

That’s it, baby, check out the goods before you buy.

“Disgusting,” she sneers and rolls off my body. The loss of heat and pressure jolts my lust-addled mind back to the present. Too bad my arousal doesn’t deflate in the slightest. She takes the cloth with her when she jumps to her feet, leaving my tented trousers for all to see. Half a dozen people stand over me, wearing matching scowls. “He’s not on fire. His clothes are ruined, but he’s got trunks of them. Chub and Catty, I trust you will clean up this mess and educate this man about the dangers of a fire at sea. I’ll be at the helm for this shift. The rest of you—back to work!”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Thankfully, nobody looks in my direction after she gives them their orders. They march out of the galley after Betts storms from the room like a cluster of thunderclouds after a hurricane.

“You know, I got my nickname in a similar predicament,” Chub says as he squats beside me.

“You set your boat on fire and shoved your marriage rod at your captain when she tried to rescue you?”

“Avast ye, no! Nothing that bad,” he says with a hearty laugh. “Blackbeard gave me the nickname Chub because my whippersnapper self pitched a tent like yours in a brothel. Aye, I wasn’t the only hearty to chub up, but I was the youngest. Old Crockpot noticed and made a mockery of me on the stage. I survived and learned to identify with the nickname. You will survive this, too.”

“Do you think I’m about to earn a nickname from Captain Betts?”

“Not one that you want,” he says, raising to his feet and offering me a hand. “Go to your bunk and lick your wounds.”

“As long as you understand the dangers of setting fires aboard,” Catalina adds as she enters the kitchen.

She wraps her soot-coated arms around Chub’s shoulders. Huh, she’s almost half a foot taller than him. With his big personality, I considered him as tall as Eze and Greenhorn, even though I knew better. A short king wouldn’t be out of place on the high seas like they would be in Boston. Hell, on this boat, I’ve met a bearded woman, a woman with lizard skin, a man with four arms, a man with a lion’s head, and manyOtherswho would conceal their differences on land.

Could there be a place for a satyr? Is that why my father sent me to this boat? Was he trying to get out of leaving his legacy to anOther? One thing doesn’t fit though…Captain Betts. Why did they elect her as their leader? She’s notOtherthat I can see, but they fall in line behind her. What am I missing?

“He’s not listening to a word you say,” Catalina says as the soap bubbles of my thoughts pop.

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