Page 81 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

Once the sun began to set, Nola headed into the kitchen to help with dinner. There was a bit of chaos as she looked around. Kitten rushed from each side of the kitchen, pans and silverware scattered over the counter, food laid out and not quite prepared. Hill and Ardley sat in the corner of the kitchen, tossing back their mugs. But Nola’s eyes focused on Mazie slumping forward and staring down at the empty plate.

What is she thinking?Nola wondered.

“Need help in there, my love?” Boots asked while descending the stairs, securing the buttons on his breachers after returning from the loo.

Kitten placed two cooked sea turtles on the counter, steam rising from the meat. “Not unless ye wash those filthy ’ands of yers,” she said, looking up with a smile.

“Is the captain joining us?” Nola asked, turning to Mazie, who looked up, expressionless. “Does he not dine with the crew anymore?”

Mazie pulled her cup to her lips and smirked at her. “Oh, he’s been entertainin’ our siren guest,” she said. “I’m actually quite surprised you haven’t asked about her yet.”

Nola glared at her.

A sardonic smile flickered on Mazie’s lips and slammed her mug on the table. “My guess is that you haven’t told the captain that you’re a fish?” Mazie accused, not even trying to hide the volume of her voice.

Nola squinted her eyes. “One cannot speak with another who does not want to be spoken to.”

The floor creaked next to them as Kitten walked up to the table. “What are ye two jabberin’ ’bout?” she asked, placing their food in front of them.

Right then, the door swung open and entered Lincoln, visibly drunk, and staggered to the table. He gripped to the edge and stopped, his eyes glossed over Nola’s, and for a moment, despite his drunken state, she saw that same man who cared about her. She saw kindness but also sadness. Something was wrong.

The captain gave her a cocky smile and plopped on the chair across from her. He reeked of booze and cigars. His masculine jaw was marked by a light scruff, and his hair untamed and slightly greasy.

Damn, you are one handsome man. Even when you look like rubbish,the thought ran through Nola’s head.

“Hey!” he said as he looked up towards Kitten, who was still preparing their supper. “Dinner not done yet?”

Pompous bastard,Nola thought.

She had not noticed him behaving so rudely towards any of his crew members since she had stowed away on his ship.

Lincoln snapped his fingers at Kitten. The golden-eyed pirate rushed over a plate of food, but instead of placing it in front of him, she held it there and looked at him with a stern, accusatory glare.

“Someone ’as ’ad a bit too much rum. Eh, Captain?” she said. “How ’bout ye take yer own damn plate.” It was bold to speak to a captain that way, she knew that, but by the looks of it, she did not care.

After a moment of awkward silence, he slapped his knee, throwing his head back and letting out a hearty laugh. “Aye,” he said, then took the plate from her and placed it in front of him.

Lincoln stared at his meal.

“Again?” he said.

Fish and white rice had become the main dish on the ship since they had one more mouth to feed.

Nola watched perplexed as he devoured his food without a fork, using only his fingers. It was a bit distasteful and strange to see such a good-looking man eat like he was a wild beast.

He is humiliating himself,Nola thought.

“Pardon me,” Nola said, moving her seat back and standing, staring down at him. “I need some fresh air.”

The siren girl rushed out of the dining room and climbed the stairs to the main deck. She took in the cool evening breeze. She went to close her eyes, but a white robe blowing in the wind caught her attention. Nola’s eyes spotted the woman she had seen earlier. She was leaning up against the balustrade, looking out into the water.

“Hello,” Nola shouted. The woman turned and looked back at her while Nola took a few more steps towards her, cautiously, of course. She did not recognize the woman, but the closer she got, an odd feeling grew in her chest. It was like they were connected in some way.

The siren’s hair was a bright, coppery red. It fell gorgeously down to her hips. Her eyes were a glistering white, almost as if they were translucent, like tiny little opals sparkling around her pupils. Nola was intrigued by the woman and her beauty.

The white-eyed siren turned away to look out at the full moon; it had created a beautiful glow above the surface.

Once Nola stood by her, she turned to meet her eyes.

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