by Plum Pascal
“What were ye hopin’ for, Popsy?”
I can’t meet his eyes when I answer. “That things between us could be like they are with Kassidy and her men,” I admit. “They seem happy.”
Hook laughs bitterly. “’Tis nae the sharin’ I mind, lass. Have as many men as ye like. Dozens, if it makes ye happy, so long as ye still call me yer love at the end o’ the day. I’m nae so greedy. But I dinnae pay allegiance to kings. Never again. An’ I dinnae feck their queens. Did that once, an’ it ended in a curse. So, if ye marry the prince, I cannae be with ye, Aria. Nae matter how much I might want ye. ‘Tis one rule I refuse to break.”
It’s hard to swallow. How can I possibly reconcile duty with desire? I want Hook. If nothing else were on the line, I’d follow him to the edge of the Earth and tumble off the waterfall with him. I’m smitten already, beyond the bounds of sanity. It’s almost like a reverse siren’s song. He’s bound me, not the other way around.
But there is something on the line. Two worlds—that of the land and that of the ocean. And I can’t sacrifice the survival of both for him.
He slides off the bed and crosses over to me with a sigh, swiping his rough fingers across my cheeks. More tears have begun to fall.
“Ah, Popsy. It guts me every time ye cry. I dinnae mean to be cruel. What can I do?”
“Kiss me,” I murmur. “I’m not anyone’s queen yet.”
“Is that an order, lass?” he murmurs huskily.
“The only one I’ll ever give you. Love me, Hook. Please. Until...”
Until the end comes, and we are parted.
And that day will come soon.
Bastion and I can’t return to the land without another enchantment. My legs will be gone soon enough. And soon enough looms over me like a nightmare. I need more time with this man who makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.
Hook tips my chin up and slants his mouth over mine, and I forget about horror and duty for a moment as he guides me quickly toward the bed, stripping off the layers of my clothing. I will remember this. I’ll remember every second of every minute because this will be the last moment I have with Hook.
His hands are on me, inside me. The feel of his body close to mine.
My sailor. My brave captain.
My doomed love.
TWELVE
BASTION
The argument is settled by morning. Andric will accompany us, commanding a force of his thirteen best men. The Chosen one, Kassidy, and her retinue of werebears will accompany us as well.
To my intense displeasure, the princess insists Hook come along, too. I cannot put up a convincing argument to dissuade her. After all, his presence brings the total number of our able party to twenty-one. Seven, and its multiples, is considered lucky. A superstition, but one that Aria believes. How can I rob her of that belief? I don’t even have a logical reason to refuse. I just simply… don’t like him.
The flipside, of course, is that Hook is competent. But I don’t trust him. He turned easily on the princess in the throne room, brought his anger to bear against her later in the evening. I fear bringing him along is a bad idea.
And, of course, there’s the seething jealousy that accompanies the mere sight of him at her side, knowing he’s touched her in ways I never have and never will. Furthermore, I can see the way she hungers for him. It’s there in her eyes.
Lost in my own confusion and ignorance, I finally swallowed my pride and decided to seek counsel. In doing so, I asked Nash for an explanation of what human mating looks and sounds like. He gave me a supercilious smile and proceeded to explain what a male protuberance is used for.
And that was when my anger truly overcame me and has been my constant loyal companion ever since. The thought of the human inside Aria, nestled between her legs, as he mates her...
It’s almost worse than seeing her mate mark displayed proudly on his throat.
Almost.
That one still stings. It means the human will be able to swim with us without the clumsy human apparatuses that allow them to breathe beneath the water. Aria’s mark ensures the human will be able to take in air through the mark until she either makes this arrangement permanent or decides she no longer desires him.
I hope for the latter as soon as possible.
We’re poised on the edge of Cassio Island once again, after taking another journey under the baking sun to get to the godforsaken jut of land. It’s the most direct route to Aspamia. The humans busily slick their bodies with oils and such to slide more easily into their cumbersome suits. Most of the soldiers are men, and they’ve stripped down nude.
I eye Andric in particular. I’ve caught Aria glancing in his direction now and then. Understandable, as he’s to be her King someday. Another thought which makes me shudder on the inside. Of course, I would never allude to my disquiet as it is certainly not my place.
Andric’s shoulders are narrower than Hook’s, his muscle leaner. He’s fit enough. Attractive, in his way. His features are gentle, his eyes guileless, his smiles easy. I think it’s that, more than his appearance, that charms Aria. Andric takes new developments in stride, letting worry slide like water off a dolphin’s back.
My eyes follow the lines of his body down as I behold his cock, as the others term it. And, naturally, I make my own internal notes. Andric’s protuberance is fairly large, even flaccid as it is. I’m told these cocks grow quite long when they become rigid. I have noticed the same thing occurring to my own when I think of the princess, though it has never become entirely hard as I’ve heard they do.
I can’t help but wonder, as I behold Andric’s protuberance, if it will hurt the princess to have it shoved inside of her repeatedly? I hope not.
Andric seems kind enough. And patient. I’d hate to have to rip his spine out of his head. But if he harms the princess, I will most assuredly do so.
I finish loading the last of our supplies into Kassidy’s carrier sack. It’s enchanted to withstand the elements and it also holds a great deal of cargo without being difficult to manage. When I lift the damn thing, it barely feels any heavier, despite the crates shoved into its depths. It’s quite marvelous, in truth. Should we survive this trek, I will ask Cassiopeia to enchant something similar for me. I could tote a whole arsenal around in a pinch.
“Princess, may I have a word?” I call to Aria over my shoulder.
Aria tears her gaze away from Hook’s face after a second or two, then seems to shake herself from some quiet thought and saunters over. That she’s so transfixed with him at all makes my gills itch. What in the name of the deep ones does he have that I do not? We’re built similarly. I’m a warrior as well, with almost as many scars. Is it the facial growth? The metal hoops he wears through his ears? I can’t figure out the allure. The mate mark she’s placed upon him can only account for some of the draw.
Her hips swing lazily as she approaches me. Though I am not a fan of my own legs, I have to say I find hers a little mesmerizing. I’ve spent many an evening staring at the curve of her waist, the demarcation line between where her scales would have started. I wonder where she would be most tender if I stroked her. Though I’m still a little fuzzy on the finer points of human mating, I do find the aesthetic pleasing. The look on Aria’s face when Hook had... what had Nash called it? Fingered? Perhaps that was the word. Regardless, when Hook had brought her to climax with his fingers, the look on her face had been nothing short of rapturous. Just when I thought there was no way she could be more beautiful, there she was.
I want to bring her to such rapture myself. But such is quite unlikely. We’re giving up these human bodies to return to the water in short order. In order to return to the land, we would need to have the enchantment renewed by Opeia.
Aria comes to a stop just shy of my position and offers me a sunny smile. She’s been smiling more often, I’ve noticed. Almost always grinning when she stands near Hook. I want to beat him for that, too. Aria’s smiles used to be rare things, something only Opeia or I
could draw from her. Now, in this barbaric land with its barbaric people, she never seems to stop smiling. I wonder, with some horror at the prospect, if she might prefer it here. She’s happy. She clearly enjoys these men. What would tie her to the water, besides myself and Cassiopeia?
Her people? No. They turned their backs on her. Aria has no family but for the sea witch who loves her and me. Land is full of adventure and intrigue. Perhaps it would be selfish of me to ask her to come back to the ocean with me?
I’m going to do it, anyway. Because Aria belongs in the sea. She doesn’t belong here.
“Can we speak some place more private?” I ask.
I cast a glance at the rickety tin shed I found her and the sailor in almost over a week ago.
Aria’s nose wrinkles. “I’ll be glad when I never have to be inside a building again, Bastion. They’re so confining. Can’t we speak outside?”
I almost smile. It is a little reassuring to know she doesn’t love everything about the land. “All right. But let’s take a walk.”
“What for?” she asks.
I clear my throat. “I want to talk about your security.”
Aria’s eyes roll skyward, and amusement tugs at the corners of her lips. “There are nineteen others on this island, Bastion. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I am not worried, Princess. Merely cautious.”
It’s easy, familiar banter we’ve had a hundred times before. And I know the thoughts going through her head: Overbearing Bastion, constantly worried over this and that and constantly overreacting.
Someone has to be the reasonable one—the one who thinks of defending the princess, even if she doesn’t see the importance in it. Aria is too often cavalier about her safety, assuming because she matters little to her father, she matters little to the rest of us, as well. I know, from hearing her mutter in her sleep during the worst of her nightmares, that she worries her title and her womb are the only value she has left.
She’s wrong. Her title is the reason I bear a duty towards her, yes. But her heart is what makes me love her. It always has.
I wait until we’ve rounded a line of the tin structures and made it halfway around the island. If I squint, I can still make out the others on the opposite side. With their superior skill on their legs, I estimate it will only take them a minute or two to reach us, if there is danger. Long enough for me to hold whatever is attacking at bay until help arrives. Fortunately, the only danger I sense on this island is still on the other side, doffing his frock coat for a swimming costume.
I scoff. A swimming costume! As if one needs more than just his body to swim. Humans are absurd.
Aria comes to a stop with another distracting wiggle of her hips. I am genuinely curious as to what those legs would feel like wrapped around my middle and what the inside of her body would feel like. There’s no time to find out, even if she were inclined, and I can’t blame her for wanting to keep her protective layers on underneath the baking sun.
“So, what is it you wanted to speak to me about?” she asks, tilting her head just so. Her hair catches the sunlight and glows faintly. The luminescent sheen means she’s excited, almost bordering on aroused. Is it Hook? Me? The prospect of claiming our freedom?
“Hook.”
The one word is enough to steal the soft smile from her lips and replace it with a scowl. “Bastion, we’ve already talked about this. Hook is coming with us, and that’s final.”
I don’t like the way she’s so quick to jump to his defense. As far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t deserve her good opinion.
“I’m not here to argue with you about his involvement, Princess. Poseidon knows nothing can shake you when you set your mind to something. I just wanted to make you aware of some things and express my... concerns.”
She arches a brow. “And these things are?”
There’s really no delicate way to put it, so I lay the truth out plainly. I cannot afford to dance around her feelings at this juncture. Not when it’s her very feelings that may get her killed.
“I don’t believe he’s trustworthy, Princess.”
The lines between her brows only deepen, her mouth turning down into an even angrier frown. I’m upsetting her, just as I knew I would. I wish that fact didn’t cut at me so.
Her expression turns dark. “It doesn’t matter what you believe, Bastion. I trust him. And you should trust me!”
“I do, Princess. But you’ve known the human far less than one lunar cycle! And, as far as I’m concerned, that means you don’t truly know him at all!”
Her hands ball into fists at her side. She’s shaking and looks unsteady on her feet. Strange wetness dews in her eyes, even as she glares at me.
“Bastion, you are being unfair, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I am not ashamed of myself,” I counter. “I am your protector and, as such, I must be weary of anyone with which we come into contact.” I take a breath. “Hook isn’t a noble sailor, Aria—he’s called a pirate for a reason! He plunders, he raids, he turns port cities to ash if he has to. He’s a villain, and I don’t understand why you refuse to see it!”
“Those are lies and I refuse to believe them, Bastion.”
“They aren’t lies.”
She glares at me. “Even if he did things in the past, I’m sure he regrets them. Furthermore, his past doesn’t reflect the man he is now. You and I have both done things we regret…”
“Aria…”
“No!” she interrupts, shaking her head. “You don’t know the stories of what he’s had to endure. You don’t know what it was like in Neverland!”
I want to shake her. She’s still so blind.
“I know you want him,” I growl out slowly, trying to approach this subject from a different angle, trying to appeal to her sense of reason. “But he’s a pirate, Aria. A soldier of fortune. A killer. And I don’t want him around you, especially when it’s my duty to protect you!”
“You don’t have to protect me from Hook,” she insists.
“That human will push a harpoon through your chest the second a better offer presents itself.”
“That’s not true!”
It’s my turn to glare at her as anger burns within my blood. “I understand you’re attached to him. I’m aware that love clouds reason.”
“What in the name of Avernus do you know about love, Bastion?” she yells as she turns to face me squarely. She stands perhaps a foot from me. “You have no right to condescend to me, you… you…”
I seize her cheeks in both hands, trapping her lovely, fine-boned face between my palms. Her skin is so incredibly smooth. When I was a mere boy, newly exiled with my princess, I spent my nights in the deeps praying for safety from the grotesquerie and wondering what it might feel like to touch her this way. To run my fingers over her high, sculpted cheekbones and feel heat flush into her cheeks as it does now.
Her huge, beguiling eyes are wide, and realization enters them seconds before I press my mouth to hers. It’s strange and awkward to ape the odd mouth-mating ritual the humans do, but also satisfying, in a way. Warm tingles run under my skin, the blood rushing into my face so it feels much hotter than the rest of me.
My entire body yearns for her. It’s almost second nature to wrap my arms firmly around her waist and draw her flush to my chest, trapping her arms between us. They press flat against my abdomen, at the line where my tail should end. Now there’s only a fine trail of hair there, leading down to the awkward protruding sex organ that hangs between my legs. Inefficient and dangerous, if you ask me. Better to keep it tucked into the body and away from harm.
I expect her to push me away with an angry sound, or perhaps strike me for daring to be so bold as to lay hands on her. She is a princess, after all. And I am nothing but her protector, her underling. But her lips only part invitingly, and I can’t help myself. I flick out my tongue, tracing it along her plump lower lip, tasting her. She’s lovely as a coral reef under a summer sun; she tas
tes of the sea and feels like paradise splayed beneath my fingers.
The protrusion between my legs swells, and without clothing to disguise it, the evidence of my arousal presses eagerly into her thigh. Again, I expect her to pull away. This is utterly inappropriate. Instead, her tongue slides against mine in a movement that’s foreign but so incredibly pleasant, it draws a moan from my throat and my hips rock gently against hers. She slides her hands into my hair, twining into the locks and tugging them gently.
“Princess...” I groan against her mouth.
“Aria,” she murmurs into mine. “I’ve told you not to call me ‘princess’ thousands of times, Bastion.”
“But...”
“If you want to touch me, you’re going to have to learn to call me by name, not my title.”
“I understand,” I say, voice still more groan than intelligible speech.
“Now, is this bunk about Hook truly a concern, Bastion, or just the result of your own jealousy?”
My mouth finally snaps shut and I take a few steps back from her. I can’t think when our skin is touching and, frankly, I’m a little offended by the assertion. The fact that I want to beat him for touching her is secondary to my fears about his future treachery.
“I stand by what I said.”
“You know I’ll likely have to give myself to Prince Andric at some point as well, right?”
“It’s not the same thing,” I say stubbornly, willing the stupid protrusion to go soft again. It hurts to stand so near without touching her.
She lifts an imperious brow. “Oh? And why not?”
“With Andric, it’s... not real, Aria. Whatever you have with him is simply political. Clinical. Perhaps loveless.”
Her expression drops at that statement. “It might not always be that way,” she says softly.
I shake my head. “It will always be that way,” I insist. “None of these men love you. Not like I do.”
She looks at me then and there’s confusion in her eyes. No, I’ve never admitted as much to her before, but she should have known. It was so obvious. If only she’d opened her eyes and looked. But she never did.