Page 53 of A Pirate's Pleasure

Lief winced. “That pissed, eh? You must have really grown on him.” An edge to Lief’s voice spoke of questions he wanted to ask, but couldn’t because he knew it wasn’t the right time. No doubt Lief’s imagination had gone into overdrive about what might have happened over the past weeks.

“Mother fucking shit!” West shouted. “I nearly had it then.”

“Nearly isn’t good enough,” I said, stating the obvious.

I could see the outline of Lucretius’ wings now. If we let him get close enough, he’d land on the deck, and then it would be open season on my crew. They might have cutlasses and guile, but he had size, superior strength, and sharp teeth on his side. And it would be all my fault.

Lief’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, his fingers closing around it in a reassuring squeeze. I wanted nothing more than to place my hand over his and squeeze back. Unfortunately, when both my hands were flat on the deck and attached, that wasn’t possible.

“When my hands are free,” I said with an optimism I was a long way from feeling, “any ideas how I can deal with him? Lightning didn’t work out so well last time.”

Lief’s brow scrunched up as he thought about it. “How big can you make a hailstone? Bigger than the ones you used on the soldiers in Glimmerfield?”

I couldn’t say I’d ever tried. There’d never been a reason to. “How big are we talking?”

“Big enough to knock him out.”

“We already tried that.”

“But we weren’t at sea.”

I didn’t get an opportunity to respond before the scream came, my crew dropping to their knees one by one with their hands over their ears. I couldn’t cover mine. Not without moving my hands from the deck, and if I did that, we were done for. And despite my noble offer to sacrifice myself, I couldn’t go back to that half existence, to walking on eggshells so that I didn’t upset Lucretius, to watching everything I said, to skulls being the last thing I saw at night and the first thing I saw in the morning. All I could do was close my eyes against the feeling of something drilling into my skull and pray that when I came out the other side, I’d still have my hearing.

Somehow, West was still working on the manacles. I opened my eyes to find that Whitby had covered his lover’s ears rather than his own, the quartermaster’s face a study in pain, as he did his best to withstand the assault, just as I was.

And then a click. One I felt rather than heard, the metal giving way and fresh air reaching my wrists for the first time in weeks. I could have kissed West, but it would have to wait. I stood, magic surging through my veins, stronger, hotter than I could ever remember it, my body reaping the benefits of not having used it for such a long time. Lucretius was close now. Close enough that I could see the whites of his eyes. Close enough that I could see the fury on his face. In his eyes, I was prey, and I was getting away.

He was above the ship, still producing that goddamn racket. In seconds, he’d land. I didn’t want him on my ship. I didn’t want him anywhere near me. I hit him with a lightning bolt to the chest and he flew backwards. The scream stopped, replaced by a laugh at the lightning having so little effect on him. Only, I’d never intended it to injure, only to move him away so that when he dropped, he wouldn’t land on the deck. And he was going to drop. I was going to make sure of it.

Hand stretched up toward the sky, I took every moment of emotional torture from the past few weeks, every moment where I’d been forced to be submissive, where I’d been forced to lie to stay on his good side, all the hours spent lying awake in bed listening out for footsteps in the corridor, all the times he’d led me around by the chain pooled at my feet like I was his dog brought to heel. I took every moment of my humiliation and I forged them into icy rocks. Not one. Not two. But a bunch of them. Too many for him to dodge.

And then, with one twitch of my fingers, I brought them down on his head. Hail, unlike any seen before and unlikely to be seen again, buffeted Lucretius from all sides, delivering more than one hit. He dropped like a cannonball from the sky, the splash as he hit the water music to my ears. I rushed over to the railing, arriving there with Lief at my side in time to see the top of Lucretius’ head as it sank below the surface. We both leaned over to get a better look as the rest of the pirates also gathered at the railing.

There was silence, no one daring to speak as we watched the sea, everyone waiting to see if he’d come bursting out ready to exact bloody revenge. One minute passed. Two. And still nothing.

It was Lief who finally put what we were all thinking into words. “He was unconscious when he went into the water. His lungs would have filled with water immediately. Unless he’s part fish, as well as being part bird, there’s no way he didn’t drown.” More silence. More staring at the sea. “He’s dead,” Lief said. “And it couldn’t happen to a nicer man.” He said “man,” with a sneer.

“What do you say to getting out of here?” Whitby asked.

I didn’t answer, still staring at the patch of sea where I’d last seen Lucretius. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was under there, not dead, but watching, waiting, biding his time.

“Raise the anchor!” Whitby shouted.

That snapped me out of my reverie. “I think you’ll find that’s my line,” I said, fixing him with a reproachful look.

He grinned, inclining his head in recognition of my words. “Begging your pardon, Cap’n, force of habit, I’m sure you understand. I’ve kept your ship nice and warm for you, and you won’t find so much as a single scratch on her… But, that said, it’s nice to have you back.”

I let out a breath, something in my chest easing. “It’s nice to be back.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Lief

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all a dream, that at any moment now I might wake. And when I did, I’d discover that our weeks of searching every island we’d come across, no matter how unlikely it had seemed to find civilization there, hadn’t really ended in success. It certainly hadn’t seemed likely when we’d rowed out to the island today, the view of the house completely hidden from sight behind a row of trees probably planted for that exact purpose.

But there had been a house, and inside it had been the very man I’d been so desperate to find. A little disorientated. A little confused. But alive, which was the main thing. I tugged his hands onto my lap, wincing at the red-raw skin on his wrists where the manacles had chafed. I shook my head. “What was he thinking?”

Zephyr shifted slightly, the bed creaking under him. “I assume he thought he didn’t want me to use any more magic on him, that he’d had enough of being hit by lightning and buried under rocks.”