I slide off my undergarments, guiding him into me, savoring the way he fills me, the way my whole body seems to come alive around him. “Fuck,” he moans, voice rough and desperate. His hands grip my hips, but I move slowly, teasing, wanting him to feel every inch, every second.
I lean forward, kissing his neck softly, whispering his name into his skin, wanting him to know there will never be anything better than this, than us, in this single, perfect moment.
“My treasure,” he rasps, his voice thick with need. “You feelsogood.” His hands slide up from my hips, tracing the curve of my waist, moving higher to my breasts. His fingers tease my nipples, light and slow, making me shiver and gasp. Then his mouth is there, warm, hungry, his tongue circling, his teeth grazing just enough to make me whimper.
I shatter around him, moving helplessly, clutching at his shoulders as waves of pleasure rush through me. He holds mesteady, then flips me slowly onto the deck, pressing me down as he moves inside me, fast and relentless, until I can’t see and can’t breathe, only feel.
He finishes with a low groan, collapsing over me, his breath hot against my neck. Pulling off the shirt, he looks into my eyes, voice soft and reverent. “You’re ethereal.” His words melt me, turning my heart to lava.
“So are you,” I whisper with a small smile, tracing the dark lines of his tattoos along his neck, the moon bathing us both in silver ribbons.
He turns, grabbing my captain’s hat from beside us and setting it lazily on my head. I’m wearing nothing but the hat when he kisses me, slow and warm. “Look at you,” he murmurs against my lips. “Wrecking me without even trying.” I can’t help but smile, my cheeks flushing red under his gaze.
“So… about that drink?” I say, suddenly craving something amber and burning. He smiles, reaching for my shirt and handing it to me with that lazy confidence that always makes my stomach twist. “Let’s go.”
We get dressed—my corset laced half-heartedly, his shirt hanging loose—and head down together, stepping off the ship and into the glowing pulse of the island town.
Chapter thirty-one
Kai
Sinister Shores
Seal’s Island. It feels good to be back. Too many moons and sunrises have passed since I last stepped onto these docks. There are only a few places that ever feel like home beyond the sea, but this island, this crooked, smoke-sweet stretch of coastline, holds a piece of my heart. Just like Mira has Magda as her home, thisis mine. Seal’s Island holds many of my memories on land as a kid. Running through its smoke-filled streets, stealing pastries from market carts, playing ball with the younger kids until the sun went down. It’s the only place I ever really felt like a child.
Mira and I make our way toward one of the main pubs, walking down the gangplank with our fingers intertwined.
The night air wraps around us, thick with salt and smoke, fires burning along the shoreline, pipes curling sweetness into the breeze. It smells like old stories and safe harbors. I feel content here. Settled, almost. Especially with Mira by my side.
“After the war,” I start, and a drunk staggers past us, barrels clattering as he goes. Mira laughs.
“Yes?” she asks, tilting her head.
“What do you see for us?”
Her emerald eyes catch the lights and glitter like diamonds. “I haven’t thought that far,” she says, “but whatever happens, so long as we live through this, that’s what was meant to be.” She scans the lively town as we move deeper into it.
“Have you thought about life after all this?” she asks. I watch her every small movement, reading the way she shifts, the way her smile steadies.
“Yes.”
“And?” she presses.
“I see us ruling the seas together—taking down even the royals, if we get that far.” I grin. She bursts into a clear, delighted laugh.
“The royals? Kai, come on.” She nudges me, incredulous and amused.
“You don’t think we can take them down?” I say.
“No, I didn’t say that. But our battle is in the ocean, not on land. When we win the war at sea, we have won it all. Don’t you think so?”
“I think we can have itall.”
She smiles and nods her head.
My attention drifts from our conversation the closer we get to the town. Something feels off. The shadows shift too quickly when I’m not looking. Mira says I have a sixth sense, that I can feel things before they happen, and maybe she’s right. Even in this moment, with her laughter in my ear and the warm glow of tavern lights ahead, I feel myself bracing.
I don’t know what for, but I’ve learned to trust the quiet before the storm.
