A Pirate's Dream Page 2

  Soon the rainbows would fade, and she’d be stuck in this half world between reality and myth with a creature who’d just as soon skin her and eat her as let her go.

  “Damn my bloody soul,” she hissed. Then, snatching up an orb, she crammed it down her bodice and jumped to her feet before heading back toward the safety of her dinghy. Time was now her enemy.

  Nimue was almost to the entrance of the cave, and the light beckoned to her. Until she was off this island, she couldn’t control the creature. Two more steps would have gotten her there, but a strong zephyr shoved against her back, jamming her tightly to the damp cave wall. She hissed as her cheek became abraded by the sharp edge of a jewel.

  “You would dare sssteal from the Hag!”

  Whimpering, Nimue fought to pull away from the rock, but invisible bands held her fast. She couldn’t move, and she could barely even breathe against the pressure of being plastered as she was.

  “You don’t understand,” she gritted out.

  “Oh, the Hag underssstands well, human!”

  The coldness of that voice washed down Nimue’s spine like a bucket of ice. Then suddenly, the world spun with color as the Hag snapped her fingers, twirling Nimue like a marionette on a string.

  Chest heaving with the force of her fear and her overwhelming need for oxygen, Nimue finally got a good look at the beast and gasped. The woman standing in front of her was frightening in her macabre loveliness.

  Instead of hair, thick black spiraling tentacles flowed past her shoulders, writhing and undulating in such a way that Nimue was sure they were alive. Her skin was a strange color. Pearl white, it reflected shades of the ocean, as well—aquamarine, the green sea foam, and even a soft luminescent pink. She was slender and proportionally built, but small—smaller even than Nimue’s naturally waify thinness. The hag couldn’t have come much higher than chest level to her.

  But there was no mistaking the woman’s body beneath the tightly cinched white Grecian gown. Her feet were bare, and golden bands encircled her slim biceps.

  Her heart-shaped face and dimpled chin might have made her appear harmless were it not for the solid blacks of her eyes and the tiny pointed fangs that poked out from beneath her rosebud lips as she spoke. All of that wouldn’t have been so bad—Nimue had encountered stranger-looking creatures within Wonderland—if it hadn’t been for the thick band of blood staining the hag from chin to toes.

  The hag cocked her head, her movement’s stiff and alien. Humanoid she might have been, but there was nothing human about her.

  “Will you deny that you’ve ssstolen from the Hag?” The creature blinked then blinked again before casting her eyes downward, straight to Nimue’s bodice.

  Considering the orb was currently stuck between her boobs and bobbing precariously with each breath she took, the evidence looked rather damning.

  “I...I...” Damn her to blue blazes, what type of pirate was she that she’d become a dithering simpleton around this... this... creature, woman, thing? Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat, notched her chin, and with a voice as steady as she could possibly manage, she said, “It is not what you think.”

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Was it? She had planned to use the hag—but not badly. Goddess, that even sounded bad to her own ears.

  Wanting to groan, knowing she dare not, she quickly changed tact. She was Hook’s daughter. His blood ran through her veins. If she couldn’t use brawn, she’d use brains.

  Drawing near to her, the hag swiveled her neck from side to side like a charmed snake. “You sssmell of sssweet meat.” She sniffed slowly, lingering around the vein in Nimue’s neck.

  Yipping, Nimue tried to kick out her foot to push the thing back, but the hag still had her gripped tight.

  “And I’m ssso hungry.”

  Had that been the flickering of a tongue? Holy Calypso!

  Trying not to faint, Nimue gave a nervous sort of chuckle. “You don’t want to eat me. I’m too skinny. No meat.”

  Gods, she needed to get off this island. Nimue wasn’t certain how long the twin rainbows would last, but surely, she was running out of time.

  “Take-take it back.” She thrust her chest out, bumping the orb forcibly against the hag’s breasts.

  Dragging long black-tipped claws against the exposed bits of the soul orb, the hag smiled.

  Nimue did not like that smile at all. Clenching her jaw, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think.

  “You are right, little human, not enough flesh on you to be more than a nibble. But there are... other things.” The claw that’d been tapping the orb drew lightning quick against Nimue’s upper left breast.

  Gasping from the fiery pain, Nimue attempted to bend over to shield herself, but she managed to move only her head.

  The hag’s claws held poison sacks in them. Nimue could only pray to the goddess that she’d suffered only a dry cut. Trembling from both pain and a healthy dose of terror, she lifted her head to gaze to the monster.

  “Kill me then!” she snapped, not so much from anger, but fear.

  Father had always told her that if a pirate couldn’t reason her way out of a fight, then she switched tactics. Reverse course.

  She did not want to die. Ergo... well, perhaps taunting the hag to kill her might not have been the best way to go about things, but mother had called this tactic reverse psychology—essentially defying a person to do one thing when in fact you wanted them to do the other. The thing of it was, the hag didn’t look fooled.

  So she almost crowed when the hag took a step back, black eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  “Are you blood sssick?” She sniffed again, her warm breath fanning against Nimue’s cheek.

  “Ye... yes!” she snapped. “I am. I am blood sick. Eat me, Hag, and die.” For a moment, Nimue was proud of her strong, unwavering voice.

  But then the creature screamed, the sound so shrill and deafening that Nimue was sure her ears now bled.

  Holy Calypso, this might come back to bite her in the arse.

  Licking her lips and trying her best to block out the sensation of knives stabbing her eardrums, she suddenly had a vision of when she was eight.

  Her beautiful mother had been sitting at the vanity, brushing her golden-blond curls out one night. Nimue had lain across her father’s sleeping form, toying idly with her seahorse pendant.

  “Did you know,” her mother had said in a voice as lovely as angel song, “that your little horse isn’t made of gold at all?”

  “No.” Nimue had gasped, staring at the jewel, fascinated. “What is it, Mother?”

  Twisting on her seat, Trishelle had smiled. “It was a gift from a man I once knew. A merman. His name was Sircco, and he, along with his sister, rule the Seren Seas.”

  Enraptured by the tale, Nimue had sat absolutely still, imagining the strange and impossible beauty of the world below. She’d hung on with bated breath as her mother described the realm of the maidens and the ensorcelled males who lived below.

  That was the very moment she’d decided that someday, she would see that world for herself.

  Trishelle had ended her tale with a loving stroke to her daughter’s head. “Protect that little seahorse, Nimue, and someday, if you should ever find yourself in danger, all you need to do is brush against it and whisper his name. And he will come...”

  Brush against it.

  Yes. Yes. That’s what she would do. But how?

  A stiff breeze knocked the orb out of Nimue’s bodice, rolling it swiftly across the floor and back to the safety of the nest.

  Then the hag turned on her and, lifting a hand, aimed it directly at Nimue’s heart. “If you cannot feed the Hag, then you’re of no ussse.”

  With a meep sound, Nimue dipped her head and brushed against the seahorse’s head with the only thing she could—her tongue. “Sircco, help!”

  The Sea Hag gasped, stumbling backward over the train of her dress, when a loud cracking sound erupted through the cave.

  Nim
ue knew the moment the hag’s concentration slipped because she sagged against the cave wall. The creature was trying to get up, but her movements were drunken.

  After twirling on her booted heel, Nimue ran with the last bits of her strength for her craft. She had no orb. And she’d nearly died.

  Her father would kill her.

  She was halfway there, so, so close. Then suddenly, she could not move, gripped once more by that strange invisible magic. Except this time, she retained her ability to move her limbs; she simply couldn’t walk away.

  “No!” she screamed, watching as the twin rainbows above her began to fade quickly. Only a few miles ahead, the Jolly Rodger was anchored. So close. She’d been so close.

  “Get away from her, Sssirco. Ssshe belongs to the Hag.”

  Only then did Nimue notice him—the King of the Sea.

  He sat upon a throne of azure water.

  He was a powerful man, square jawed, with slashing cheekbones, a sharp nose, and striking bronze-colored eyes that seemed to glow faintly as they gazed down upon her. Upon his head of cropped blond hair rested a crown, and scuttling upon it were hermit crabs with shells of gold.

  Everything about him was massive. Nimue couldn’t quite seem to catch her breath when she gazed on him. The Sea King was easily twice the size of a normal male, and he had the upper body of the most exquisite male she’d ever seen.

  He flicked his tail, as if in annoyance, and the movement caused the bronze scales to ripple as though heated by fire.

  Holy Calypso, he was magnificent.

  “Why have you called me?” his thunderous voice boomed, quickening through the air like a thunder strike.

  She grew aware of the swirling mists crawling onto shore. The rainbows were very nearly gone now, nothing more than a hint of color. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to screw up her courage, but the hag spoke instead.

  “Ssshe ssstole from the Hag. Took an orb.”

  The king never even glanced behind Nimue’s shoulder; his eyes had remained firmly affixed on Nimue. Swallowing hard under his penetrating glare, she lifted her chin.

  “Is this true?”

  She could deny it. A true pirate would. There was no honor among thieves. And yet, her father had never raised her to be as the rest.

  “Yes. It’s true. But,” she was quick to assert, “it wasn’t for the reason you might think.”

  “Why?”

  Lightning crashed mere yards from where she stood.

  Holy mother of Calypso! She suddenly regretted very much her rash decision this morning. What had she been thinking to sneak away to a place where no one would know where to find her?

  Opening her mouth, words on her tongue, Nimue began to feel shame.

  How stupid would it sound to say that she’d done it all to prove to her parents she was capable of taking care of herself? She was in a worse position now than she’d ever been before in her life. As far as she was concerned, she couldn’t have bungled things worse, even if she’d tried.

  Reaching for the pendant, Nimue rubbed at its head furiously, trying in vain to calm her riotous emotions as her stomach heaved. If this didn’t end soon, she was going to lose the remains of her morning repast.

  Up until that point, Sircco had watched her dispassionately, but suddenly, he hissed and snapped, “Where did you get that sea dragon?”

  “You know the termsss,” the Hag spoke, interrupting him. The sound of her dry, dusty voice grated on Nimue’s ears. “An eye for an eye. The Hag demandsss her due.”

  Finally, Sircco looked over at the hag. “You are owed recompense, Hag. This much is true.”

  “No. Wait!” Nimue held out her hands. “I stole nothing. I gave it back. I only wish to leave this island while I still can.”

  The faint wavering mix of colors in the sky would be gone in less than a minute.

  Calypso save her.

  But they both ignored her, as though she weren’t there.

  “I want her.” The Hag pointed at Nimue’s chest.

  Sircco merely shook his head. “Nay. I deny you, beast.”

  Nimue might have sagged with relief, if it weren’t for the fact that she’d definitely heard an unspoken but in there. Slipping a hand to the hilt of her sword, she took three steadying breaths.

  She was Hook’s daughter.

  The hag stomped her pretty little foot. “I demand reparation.”

  “And that you shall have. How often do you feed, creature?”

  What? Why was that even important?

  Nimue withdrew her blade. She would die before she allowed him to feed her to that thing.

  Black eyes blazed. “Once a year, if I’m lucky.”

  He lifted a brow. “Ask and it shall be given you.”

  The hag licked her plump red lips greedily. “A year’s worth of food.”

  “No.”

  The creature’s nostrils flared. “Eight months.”

  He said nothing.

  “Fine. Six. But not a month less.”

  “Done!” he boomed, and the sea shook.

  The moment he said it, the bands around Nimue were removed. Wanting to sob with joy and the realization that she might actually live to see another day, she began running for her boat.

  Nobody tried to stop her. No one shouted at her.

  She jumped into the raft just as the last wash of color faded from the sky. The island and the hag vanished with it.

  Laughing hysterically with relief even as tears rolled from her eyes, Nimue decided that she’d had more than enough adventure to last her a lifetime.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was no longer like thunder; it was dark and sensuous, filled with a type of heat that caressed her flesh like sun-warmed honey.

  The king wasn’t sitting upon his throne, but now bobbed upon the waters beside her, and he was no longer larger than life. He was still a glorious male, but more like her father in height and build. She could just barely make out the strong flick of his tail beneath the now-calm sea.

  She shook her head. “I’m for home, King. I’ve no wish to dally longer. Thank you for the timely intercession.”

  A slow smile spread across his full lips, and her heart hammered wildly in her throat. Why had that smile suddenly made her break out in a wash of cold sweat?

  “You have been cut?”

  She glanced down at the mark the hag had given her. “Aye.”

  “How do you feel?” His stormy eyes studied her, as if seeking any signs of sickness.

  She shrugged. “Oddly, fine.”

  Leaning in, he sniffed, and it caught her so off guard that she yelped, nearly toppling off her seat when his nose brushed her flesh.

  “I do not smell poison in you. You are fine.”

  Then, reaching forward, he gripped her seahorse. His knuckles brushed against the top swell of her left breast, and she couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe properly.

  “I know this little one. He belongs to my sister.”

  Nimue licked her lips, locked in the intense stare of the Sea King. His eyes, they were so... “Hypnotic,” she mumbled, never realizing she’d said it out loud.

  Lightning flashed inside their bronze depths, making her feel as though she’d just tumbled into eternity.

  “She only ever gave one of her sea dragons away. To her. To...” His nostrils flared, and he abruptly pulled back from her.

  Trembling, but not from the cold, she couldn’t do anything other than stare at him.

  “You are Hook’s daughter.”

  The way he said her father’s name, there was respect, but there was also a thread of anger laced behind it. Frowning, she stared at the suddenly boiling water that surrounded the king.

  “What is your name?” he demanded.

  “Nimue. My name is Nimue.”

  His nostrils flared. “Nimue.”

  The way he said her name, as though he’d tasted every vowel—good goddess, but it had felt like a fluttering stroke against her soul.r />
  “Nimue, daughter of Hook, you belong to me.”

  Those words were enough to snap her out of the lusty, drugged haze she was in. “Excuse me?”

  “I bought your freedom. A trade. The hag and I. Six months, you will be mine.”

  Swallowing hard, her fingers numb, she shook her head violently. “You don’t own me. I’m going back to my ship. I’m—”

  He slapped a hand on the bow of her vessel, preventing her from moving even an inch. “Oh, but I do, little pirate. You were a fool to do what you did. The price has been paid. And you will come with me now.”

  “I never agreed to this!” she snapped, kicking out at him when his hand gripped her ankle.

  As angry as she was, the moment his hand touched her heated flesh, it was like being bathed in lightning. Power hummed through his fingertips, rolling like thousands of tiny fingers against her skin, making her forget simple things, like how to breathe.

  “You agreed the moment you summoned me. Everything has a price, Nimue. Now”—his fingers curled possessively around her ankle—“you can come willingly, or you can fight this. But either way, you’re coming.”

  She shivered at the intensity of his words. What had she done? Her parents would be so worried. Smee would blame himself for all this.

  What had she been thinking that she could steal a soul orb from the hag?

  “At... at least let me tell my parents.”

  He shook his head. “I will tell them. Now come here.”

  Command brooking no arguments, Nimue knew she could fight this, tell him to go to Davy Jones’ locker, but in the end, he was too powerful and would win. Snarling at him, she moved across the bench, getting so close to him that when she breathed, her breasts brushed against his solid chest.

  Naïve and foolish she might have been, but she was far from stupid. As he leaned forward, she reached for the stiletto she’d tucked inside the heel of her boot.

  She pulled it out and had it pointed at his torso when his lips brushed hers, and the power she’d felt from his fingers on her skin was nothing compared to the raw energy that poured from his lips.

  A groan echoed between them, and she had no idea if she’d made it or he had, but his soft strokes morphed into something hungry and deeper, fuller. She wasn’t sure how her mouth had opened or how his tongue had slipped inside, but she didn’t care—because she was drowning in the taste of salt and brine and sea, lost in a swirl of vivid colors. Just as she was sure she would die if she didn’t take a breath, something sweet and fresh and full passed from his lips to hers.