Page 53 of Ship of Shadows
I peered at her with curiosity. “Do you know anything about that trident?”
She looked down at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “Not much. We’d heard rumors that the seafolk had a powerful object, powerful enough to fell an entire ship, sink it to the bottom of the sea, but we never saw any evidence of that. Now I wonder ...” She trailed off. “Maybe they’re in league with him?—”
“Sister,” Kara interrupted, and my gaze snapped to her as she stared down at Mia, eyes hard. “Ollie wants you to tell the story about the time you broke out of that prison using only the bandana on your head.”
Mia looked at me. “That’s a good tale. Excuse me.” She stood and moved to the end of the table with Kara.
Him. She’d said maybe they were in league with him. That interruption by Kara hadn’t been an accident. Mia had been about to reveal something Kara didn’t want me to know. But what? I sighed. I was so tired of all the secrets.
The sky was dark now, the moon overhead, big and bright. Bastian was still noticeably absent while almost the entire crew filled the little tavern.
“He gets like this sometimes,” Bartholomew said from behind me.
“Hm?” I asked, gaze focused on the window like I expected his large, leather-clad form to appear outside at any moment.
“Bastian,” Bartholomew said, drawing my attention. “Moody, withdrawn. He goes to the beach and walks for hours. You won’t see him tonight.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“It’s clear there’s something between you two.” He took a gulp of his drink. “Just don’t break his heart again.”
Right. Because the end of our relationship had been my fault.
I didn’t know what to say to that. I cleared my throat. “I need to get some fresh air. If you’ll excuse me.”
Leoni and Driscoll were busy gossiping about yet another couple in the tavern, not paying any attention to me as I stood and slipped out the door and into the warm night air, already knowing exactly where I wanted to go.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The ship bobbed in the water, the night calm, the dark sky stretching endlessly over the dark sea. Bastian had locked the trident away in his cabin, claiming that was the safest spot for it. Bartholomew had said Bastian roamed the beach on nights like this when he was in a dark mood, which meant he wouldn’t be in his cabin. I was going to get that trident, study it, and maybe find some clue as to why it was on the beach with my father. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that none of this was a coincidence.
I walked across the dock and nodded to a woman sitting in a chair, a sword across her lap. She must’ve been the night guard, her job to make sure none of the docked ships got stolen. That seemed like a tall order for just one person, but I doubted anyone would attempt to steal the pirate lord’s ship.
I pointed at it.“I’m just retiring for the night,” I said and flashed her my red bracelet, the one that we all received when we docked as proof that we could board this ship. It was a clever system, I had to admit.
She nodded, and I made my way aboard, climbing up the rope ladder and hopping onto the main deck. The door to Bastian’s cabin was closed, but I knew how to pick a lock. Mybrothers and I learned that trick early on in our lives when we wanted to escape the confines of our castle. I slipped a pick from my braided hair.
I crouched before the door, jamming the pick in the lock and deftly wiggling it until it clicked. The door swung open, moonlight slashing across the room.
The room that most definitely was not empty.
Bastian lay in bed naked, his hand moving up and down his large, thick cock, muscles constricting. All the breath left my body as I drank his sculpted body in, and a squeak escaped my mouth as Bastian shot up in bed, eyes wild.
“Fucking hell,” he said, pulling the covers around his waist, bare chest still exposed and still as glorious as ever.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, remembering all too well what it had felt like when it was my own hand stroking him, my lips around his hard length, the way he’d murmur my name as he came in my mouth.
He pushed a hand through his hair. “What am I doing here? In my own bloody cabin, you mean?”
Right. I forgot about that part. I was the one breaking in.
He jumped up, giving me a view of that perfectly sculpted ass, right below his perfectly sculpted back that was covered in tattoos: a skull that reminded him of his mortality. A snake that reminded him enemies were everywhere. A moon that reminded him there was always light, even in the darkest of nights. Then there were the silly ones, the ones he got on a whim: a black cat for good luck, a fish he got when he was drunk, a heart he’d got after losing a bet to Barty the Bard. He yanked on his pants and whirled around, a fire in his eyes.
The tattoos wrapped around his chest, and my heart constricted as I thought about all the times I used to trace them, and he’d tell me their stories. What each and every one meant. Unlike his back, the tattoos that worked up his front painted abigger picture: the sea foam, the coral and sea life, the bottom of a ship sitting atop it all, a thick rope dangling into the water. It was an ode to his first love: being a pirate.
“Well?” Bastian asked. “Would you like to explain yourself? I give you space, I stay as far away from you as I can, and yet you just cannot help yourself.”
“I didn’t ask for space,” I said. “Did you not hear me picking your lock?” I threw my arm toward the open door.
