Page 42 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

She opened her mouth to speak to break the silence, but he said, “I was tellin’ you the truth at the tavern when I called you beautiful, Nola.” He paused, a grin reaching his lips.

Nola’s cheeks turned pink as she remembered how she felt at the tavern when he spoke to her. Her body reacted to that one word. Beautiful. Her stomach muscles fluttered.

“Actually, you didn’t,” she said, watching his brows knit together. “You said my name was beautiful.”

It did not matter to her; the words still made her feel something she had never felt in her life. Desire.

“Did I? Hm, well, I guess I didn’t say out loud everythin’ that came to my mind that day.”

If she only knew what I really thought, Lincoln said to his insides.

His dimples creased as he smiled at her.

“Thank you,” she said, looking at the sincere look in his eyes.

It was as if everything he had done to her earlier had not happened. She would not forget it. But the way he was treating her then, like a foe and not his enemy, gave her hope. Maybe her time on the ship would not be as scary and life-threatening as she believed it was moments before he came into that room.

Though difficult, she willed her eyes to look away as an uncomfortable feeling took over her.

Don’t, Nola,she thought. Focus on why you are here.

“Very well, um—” Captain Lincoln said, looking flustered like he was not sure what to say next. “—we should give you a pirate’s name.”

She giggled softly. “As much as I appreciate the gesture to include me among your crew,” she said politely, “I do like my given name. And besides, I don’t believe I truly need a pirate name. I’m only on the ship for seven days.”

He flashed her a playful smile. “I’ll think of somethin’,” he said, ignoring her protest. His smile broadened. “Don’t worry, the name I choose will fit you beautifully.”

He winked.

She mulled over the idea. “Very well,” she said softly, “Captain.”

“Lincoln,” he corrected. “Please, call me Lincoln when we’re alone. In front of the crew, address me as Captain. Understood?”

“Understood,” she repeated.

He stepped back, sizing her up one more time, and a playful smile reached his lips. “You look like a pirate now.”

“Not ruthless enough,” she said.

He dropped his smile, his expression taking on a more serious tone. “May I ask you a question?” Lincoln said.

“Sure.”

He walked to the back wall, folded his arms, and leaned backward, pressing his shoulders against the wooden paneling.

“What did you mean by stories back at the tavern? Say, the stories your father told you?”

She shifted. “What made you think about that?”

Lincoln shrugged. “I know I haven’t treated you kindly since you broke onto my ship.” He raised a brow. Nola pressed her lips together, feeling guilt tug at her again for coming aboard uninvited.

“They were just stories, Lincoln.”

She wanted to say, but could not, that her father told her to be wary of pirates. He painted them as bloodthirsty thieves. However, that was not what worried her the most; sirens feared the pirates sailing above them, and the pirates dreaded them equally. She was more an enemy than a mere stowaway girl.

“Very well. Perhaps you can share with me those pirates’ tales on another night.”

She gave him one mute nod trying to quiet her thoughts, but as the captain turned to head back up on the deck, she called out.

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