Page 97 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

Nola wiggled back, her feet pressing against the wall. He tugged and pulled her wrists, yanking her from under the bed with his grimy, elongated fingers, and wrapped his bony arms around her waist. The tall pirate whirled her around, flashing a self-satisfying expression across his face. She recoiled, and the pungent smell from his clothes drifted under her nostrils.

He smiled, and she immediately eyed his crooked grin revealing more missing teeth than Nola could count. A patch covered his left eye, and a thick pink scar stretched over his right eyebrow, causing the side of his face to droop. As he let out a laugh, his breath made her gag. Nola tried to turn away, but he gripped her jaw, pulling her gaze back to him.

“Well, aren’t ye pretty!” The pirate lowered his gaze down her body. “Me captain is goin’ to have fun wit’ ye,” he said, running his tongue along what was left of his yellow-tinted teeth.

“Oh, you reek of trash!” she ranted. Insulting the man was a bit mindless. Saying nothing was better. However, Nola thought if she was going to die, she might as well give it everything she got.

The pirate chuckled and gripped her jaw harder, and she watched his veins bulge from his neck.

“Ye know? I reckon I’ve changed me mind. Looks like ye ’n I will be havin’ a party afore I hand ye o’er.”

The man’s hand flew to the front of her neck while he wiggled his fingers around his crotch.

Nola scrunched up her nose before she spat in his face.

Right after he placed his hand against his nose to wipe it off, his eyes bulged, and blood spewed from his mouth. Nola quickly backed up as his grip released. She looked down. Her then-white eyes went wide. A knife stuck out from his back—blood began coloring his dirty shirt.

Nola quickly pulled her hands back to her mouth to stifle a scream. The pirate fell to his knees, drowning in his own blood. Mazie stood behind him, holding her knife. The black-haired pirate lifted a finger to her lips.

“Shh,” she said quietly, pointing to the stairs, and signed with her head to follow.

Mazie grabbed Nola’s hand, and they ran up to the deck, creeping around the corner to the back.

“We’ll take the rower boat, but we need to—”

Heavy footsteps stomped towards the women. Mazie turned and held out her knife.

“Grab the sword in my sheath,” she barked quickly. “Do it. Do it. Do it!”

Before Nola could grip the hilt, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and hoisted her in the air, pulling her away while Mazie was fending off her attacker.

The siren felt the sharp, cool metal of a cutlass against her throat as they reached the center of the deck.

The moments that followed seem to slow as the muscular freebooter dragged her closer to where Lincoln’s former captain stood.

Nola was entirely benumbed to everything happening around her; she was beyond terrified. Not because a pirate had her life in his hands, but because she realized what a damn fool she was.

This is over before it even started,Nola thought. How could I ever convince the Fae Queen to fight with us to protect Zemira, and the magical creatures in their world, when I cannot even defend myself?

Nola felt anything but gallant or courageous. She felt weak, defenseless, and even embarrassed.

The pirate holding the siren girl whistled. Lincoln came to a screeching halt the moment he saw Nola trapped within the pirate’s arms. The other buccaneers pulled their weapons high to each of Lincoln’s crew.

Nola opened her mouth to call for Lincoln but was met with a piece of rolled-up dirty cloth being stuffed inside her mouth. The man’s fingers felt greasy against her cheeks as he tied a thick rope around her head and over her mouth to keep the cloth inside. Her scream was muffled—she could not sing to summon her powers.

The siren heard another pirate rush up the steps behind them, but she did not see his face.

“’Tis not down there, Captain. I ransacked each room.”

Nola narrowed her eyes on their big-bellied captain.

What are they looking for?She thought.

“Aye.” Their captain stroked his long beard. “We shall leave without it.”

Nola lowered her brow; an unsettling feeling hit her while observing Wentworth’s intimidating appearance. The man looked to be in his late forties but somewhat handsome for his age, aside from a few wrinkles under his eyes, a bright chestnut brown. His hair was as black as coal, wavy, and reached to the middle of his back. A bandana wrapped around the top of his head and tied off on the side, with a thin gold chain hanging to the end. His shirt was tucked tight into his trousers under a black vest.

The mysterious pirate locked eyes with Nola and flashed her a lopsided grin.

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