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It started as a good idea for Nicola to leave the room and stroll the grounds of the Sky, where she knew she would be spending the next few days scouting and tracking down all the ships and people who were connected to that symbol. But the real reason hummed in her body: that staying in that bed, where she had the most mindboggling sex with the man she had vowed not to have sex with, would have been the end of her sanity, and she wouldn’t have gotten any sleep at all. His scent would be there, and the memories would be there. She would remember how easy it had been for him to leave without saying a word, biding his time until she had her guard down.
She should change the sheets. Or she should change rooms. Maybe she could switch with Maddox. The good idea of her walk became a bad idea when she got lost in one of the many turns and found herself in a dark, eerie area where the windows were nailed shut, and some alleys were blockaded. She backtracked, heard someone singing a tune, and climbed a roof so she could survey the vicinity.
“I swear I saw it with my own eyes. I really did.”
She braced to fight if she got caught, checking out the figures trudging below her.
“Bullshit. No Fae would willingly come to a pirate ship or hang out with pirates. Either they were kidnapped, or you had too many spirits. Besides, they travel differently than we do, I think.”
“But I saw it! She was glowing, and she had those pointed ears.”
“Right. I bet you saw a ghost ship, too.”
“Now that you ask, I might have seen it once or twice…”
They passed by without incident. She made her way to that area’s highest building and roof, avoiding the moonlight or any direct windows. The height gave her a fascinating view of the mini-city and the clouds from all directions, and she pondered how a thunderstorm would feel this high up. Spotting what seemed to be a lively district to her right, she jumped from roof to roof and landed on that area, then blended with the crowd.
There were females here, some in frilly dresses and heavy makeup, their cleavages out and about. There were boisterous pirates with either drinks or a woman on their arm, stumbling inside bars and getting along—
“Watch it, punk! Or I will beat that ugly face of yours up!”
She spun to glare at the man she had bumped, then felt her heartbeat stutter at the symbol on the man’s coat. All thoughts of looking elsewhere scattered as she made a beeline in that direction, putting two people between them and never letting the man out of her sight. The triangular skull was small and lined with gold, while the rest of the man’s fancy black coat had gold embellishments. Coupled with the polished boots and gloves, it clued her in that this guy didn’t belong on an ordinary ship. The man bypassed a line to a bar in the middle of the district, showing off his symbol. She frowned as she glanced at her clothes, then at those around her. An idea formed.
Half an hour later, she was inside the bar, dressed in a barmaid outfit and serving drinks to the patrons. The man had moved from a corner of the bar to the long bar, his expression displeased as he argued with the bartender. The bartender went to the back in a huff, torn between helplessness and worry. Casually, she sauntered to the long bar.
“More yellow spirits for the table with the three lovely boys, please.” She frowned, pretending to just notice that the bartender wasn’t around. Then she looked up at the man. “And what about you, big boy?”
Most men weren’t immune to her charm when she turned it on, and this one was no exception. Even with her heavy makeup hiding her real face, his harsh look turned soft.
“I would like a glass, too.”
“Just a glass?” she asked playfully, sidling closer. “Do you want a small one…or a huge one? Don’t be shy. I can fit a huge one in my hand.”
His expression was glazed, completely captivated. When her fingers caressed the empty glass on her tray, he looked like he was in love.
“A huge one. Whatever you can fit into your hand,” the man blurted out.
She smiled, fingers grazing his beard. His hand snapped out to capture her wrist, and she fought the urge to break his fingers and fluttered her lashes instead.
“A huge glass of yellow spirit, then. Anything else?”
The man blinked out of his stupor and yanked her closer. “You. How much for you?”
“I’m not for sale.”
“You all are. Come here.”
His hand swept over her butt, squeezing. Her mouth thinned when the handsy approach turned slightly painful, and she knew this wasn’t the first time the man had done this. With a giggle, she wrapped a hand around his wrist, wondering if she could twist it and keep him from screaming simultaneously.
“Madam, you should pardon my fellow here. We have been at sea for so long, and he seems to have forgotten his manners.”
The voice came from behind, a croon meant for her ears. She felt the shift in the atmosphere as the hand on her abruptly let go and the handsy man stepped back, then began to mutter apologies—a very different action from his arrogance with her and the bartender. When the bartender appeared, he paled, too, gaze locked on the new arrival. Knowing the bartender might bust her out, she turned, too.
The red coat was the first to capture her attention, nearly velvety in quality and embellished with gold threads and red gemstones for buttons. While most flamboyant hats held feathers, his black one only had one thin lining, also made of red gemstones. The trimmed beard, unmarred face, and faint smile should have made her feel at ease, considering he had one of the most pleasant features she had seen of their kind.
Instead, trepidation swirled in her senses. It warned her of danger. She tucked it in, tilting her head and openly surveying him until she glimpsed the same triangular skull symbol on his pointer finger. A tattoo, but none on his clothing.
“It’s quite all right.”
