Page 21 of Scourge of the Shores
“Look at me, Cain!” she yelled, seeing the red bulge from her last bullet, swollen on the yellow just below the black iris slit. This time, she’d blind him. Her bullet had to meet the black. The eye slit slid to her, and Danna cracked two bullets into his eye. The roar sent shockwaves through the air as its body yanked and pulled against the iron chain. The palm trees wiggled and loosened.
Danna shook her head. “Harpoons!” she yelled with all the air in her chest. A few went sailing and landed their target. “Cannon!”
“Cain will crush ye, Danna!” the shout came from across the way.
“Fire!” Danna said, glancing down at her bloody leg. “Kill him!”
But before the blast could run through the night, Cain ripped one palm tree from the ground, and the cannonball razed past his cheek.
Danna yelled again, “Fire!”
But Cain ripped the other tree loose of its root and howled in rage. Men’s shadows appeared from the jungle from the East, and they began blasting at Cain while another wave of harpoons flung through the night.
Slinging its head, Cain whipped the attached trees, plowing into nearby men and sweeping them across the beach. Cain threw Danna one last stare, then threw his head back and arched with a death dive, headed straight for her.
Danna drew her dagger. If she were going out, she’d slice Cain all the way down his belly. But a hand flew over hers, and soon she was in the air and back on the ground with a body atop hers, face-to-face with Robert.
“Don’t move,” he mouthed to her as Cain’s snout dug into the dirt beside them.
His body pinned hers, solid, warm—alive. The heat of his breath skimmed her lips. His eyes searched hers. Her pulse slammed against her ribs. Not from fear. Not entirely. She swallowed hard. A man had never been this close to her, nor had one ever lain atop her.
The sea dragon’s head bolted from the ground with a shriek of defeat. A harpoon landed in his neck, and the creature bolted toward the water, swinging the trees as he went. Robert pressed his body into hers as the swooping rush of air sounded over them and bits of bark fell atop them.
In the clear, Robert’s hand swept over her brow. “You well, matey?” he asked her with wide eyes.
Danna breathed in his spiced ocean musk, and for a brief moment, the pain in her body erupted into peace. His other hand pressed into her grip, which held the blade. His gaze locked with hers. Only a breath restrained the urge to lift her head and kiss him. He had saved her life, but in the instant of that realization, she knew Cain still lived.
Cain should be dead.
If Robert hadn’t rolled her to safety, Cain would be dead. Curse him.
The islanders’ blood had bought nothing.
Her stomach twisted. She shoved the thought down and tried to shove Robert off her with it.
“Get off me,” she gritted with a grunt. His weight bore down on her aching body. He rolled off. Danna inched her way up to her elbows next to Robert, who sat beside her.
Cain shrieked, the sound splitting the air like a death knell. The chains around his neck snapped taut, pulling deep grooves in the sand as he thrashed. The harpoon embedded in his throat pulsed with blood. He lurched toward the sea, dragging two palm trees like broken spears. His final bellow rippled across the night before his serpentine body vanished beneath the water.
The waves lapped the shore, returning to their natural rhythm, gentle as a lullaby, as if Cain had never come. Blood mingled with salt. The night quieted, except for the ragged breath in Danna’s throat—and Robert’s, just beside her.
Her heartbeat settled, and her ears stopped ringing until she noticed Robert lifting the flap on her torn pant leg. She flipped the knife and hit him in the shoulder with the butt of the handle. “What are ye doin’?”
He recoiled. “You’re hurt, and I think you’d be a little nicer to the man who kept you from being Cain’s dinner.”
“I would’ve been his last morsel,” she said, stabbing and slicing the air down to prove her point.
One corner of Robert’s mouth upturned. “I suppose I would expect nothing less of a Chadwick.”
“Go swim the depths,” she said and sheathed her knife. She bent her good leg to stand up, but her knees gave way. The sand caught her kneecaps—soft where everything else had been hard. Robert had reached for her but pulled back, tentative to help. She collapsed to her hands with a groan.
“You’re hurt bad, aye?” Robert asked, his stare intensifying.
“I don’t need ye, Jaymes,” she said, emphasizing his last name in a successful attempt to keep herself from saying “Robert.”
She narrowed her eyes and stood up with her muscles tight, stopping herself from showing any further pain. Rolling her shoulders down, she walked with a slow, steady gait. Warm blood oozed down her leg, and her side screamed as she continued where the men were gathering on the shore.
“We won!” Lucas said and threw his arms in the air. Blood dripped down his leg and cheek. His shirt had ripped open, revealing a fine hair-covered, sculpted chest and rum-round belly.
