Page 99 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

The haunting image of Lincoln lying flat on his back with his hands covering the bloodied wound burned Nola’s mind. Ardley was last seen tearing a piece of cloth from his shirt to stop the bleeding.

Please don’t come for me, Lincoln. I’m not worth your life, she pleaded in her mind. Stay on course to the Eastland Forest and survive.

Nola flinched as Wentworth reached behind her head to remove the gag.

Once the pirate captain freed the knot and tossed the cloth and rope to the floor, a scowl grew on his sun-wrinkled face.

“I must warn ye,” Wentworth said, “Yer siren call only works on weak-willed men.” He smirked. “And that—I am not.”

Nola placed a hand on her right cheek, rubbing where the rope had burned her skin. “I—”

The pirate held up a hand. “And I ’old no affection towards anyone, not even me crew. Slaughter ’em all, for all I care.”

Dread crept up to the pit of Nola’s stomach. She turned away from him, not wanting to look into his cruel eyes any longer. Instead, she scanned the deck and saw the rowdy crew of buccaneers scattered about the ship. The vessel was quite different than the Sybil Curse—clean and lavish. An extra mast stood mid-ship; their flags were not frayed and tattered like Lincoln’s. His crewmembers were all men—large and burly, not much unlike Wentworth himself. The one called Russell, who had held his cutlass to her throat, stood near the front of the ship with a bronze tobacco pipe between his lips—black smoke drifted around his head. A menacing expression flitted across his lips as he sneered at the siren. A pulse jarred in her throat.

One pirate she had not seen until then stood at the mast, lowering to the ground one of the finely made pieces of cloth, while another turned the helm to a hard left, shifting the ship to head back West.

Wentworth huffed when Nola stood idle, her eyes still fixed on her surroundings—memorizing every part of the ship until it imprinted a permanent image in her mind.

“Hustle those damn legs of yers, siren.” The pirate yanked her by the elbow, but she put up a struggle, dragging her feet lazily against the deck. “I’ll haul ye over me shoulder if I ’ave to,” Wentworth warned. His voice took on a savage edge to it. “Move tha’ pretty lil’ ass of yers!”

Be the worst prisoner he has ever had,she told herself.

The siren girl tried to tug her arm away from his hold. “I will walk at my own pace, you filthy pirate!”

A quick flash of fury gleamed in her eyes, the iris changing color in a deadly warning. She hoped he had seen it.

“So,” Nola’s voice cracked before swallowing, “you can take those disgusting hands off me.” She attempted to pull away from his hold, but his grip tightened around her arm. Nola felt a tear slip from her eye, but she was too furious to wipe it away.

The pirate captain threw his head back and chuckled before whipping her around so she was facing the sea. He pushed his broad chest against her back, and his fingers dug painfully into her shoulders. Her heart thumped harder against her chest, nearly taking her breath away.

Nola glanced at the horizon. I can’t go back there, she said in her mind, nerves rippling low in her stomach.

The Sybil Curse was falling far behind them. Her breath quickened. It was the same feeling she had when she left Zemira.

This cannot be happening to me, the siren girl thought, more tears trickling down her dirty face.

When Nola glanced over her shoulder, Wentworth’s eyebrows pulled into a sardonic glare, right before he slammed his forehead against hers. She felt a rush of blood tinge against her skin. Her hand flew to her forehead.

What the hell was that?She thought, rocking her head back and forth in utter disbelief. Oh, you bastard. You are going to pay for that one.

“Let tha’ be a warnin’,” he breathed into her neck. “I don’t like feisty, lil’ dove. What I desire is respect and absolute obedience. If I don’t ge’ it, I am not opposed to harmin’ a lady.”

Nola froze, contemplating how far he would go to hurt her.

Wentworth turned her fully to face him, flashing a jaunty smile.

She continued to rub her head while examining his every move. He appeared on edge as if she alone made him nervous.

Excellent.

Nola dropped her hand to her side. “What does Elijah want from me?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not a bloody clue. Nor do I care.”

When she gave him a scowl, Wentworth gripped her jaw and lifted her face up to meet his. Once their gaze locked, he loosened his grip on her chin but did not release her.

“Ye seem to be an invaluable piece of some grand scheme of his. That I know,” he answered. “He ’as already set sail to meet us halfway in the middle of the sea. He ’as no plans to ’and ye over to the king.”

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