I groaned and rolled my eyes. Apparently, she was very concerned about the death of the old deviant. I shrugged my shoulders and nodded, scanning her face for a reaction to my admission. Kesia smiled, leaned forward, and brushed the softest kiss against my lips.
I froze for a moment. I hadn't expected that reaction at all. Shivers swept over my skin, I wanted more of her. I slipped my hands around the back of her neck, pulling her closer. I sucked on her bottom lip, pulling a breathy sigh from her. Her hands were everywhere, rubbing down my arms, slipping over my back, under my dress.
I gasped when her fingers slid against the slick skin of my pussy. The ache that had been growing between my thighs since I took this form suddenly felt unbearable. I needed more. I needed . . . friction.
Kesia smiled against my lips and dipped a finger into my core. I shuddered against the new sensation. This was sensory overload. I arched my back, chasing her hand with my hips. My fingers gripped her breast through her dress, but that wasn't enough. Her nipple pebbled beneath my touch, but I wanted it against my palms. I tugged at the front laces to her dress and grinned when I felt the fabric slip. I pushed it down, leaning back from the kiss to admire what I'd found. Her breasts were small and round. Dark, needy nipples begged for my attention.
I bent down, my tongue darting out to taste first one then the other. My mouth latched around a nipple and sucked, swirling my tongue against the puckered flesh while my fingers pinched and pulled at the other.
"Oh!" she whimpered, slipping another finger into my pussy. Her fingers curled every time she pressed inside me, petting a sensitive spot I didn't know existed.
"Seassssss," I moaned as I ground my pussy against her hand.
A chill darted up my spine, followed by a blast of heat. All these new sensations were pushing me toward a cliff, with something dangling just on the other side of it. At the bottom of it. My back met a wall, and I groaned at the pleasure the slight twinge of pain brought me. Kesia's flesh was ripped from my mouth as she dropped to her knees, kissing and biting down my body as she went. She sank her teeth into my hip, through my dress, before she began pushing the fabric up my thighs. I pulled it over my head and let it drop to the floor beside us, my fingers quickly returning to her head, pulling at the headscarf she wore. I pushed it off and ran my fingertips over the coarse bumps I found. My eyes drifted over her hair, trying to make sense of what my fingers had found. Her hair was braided tightly to her scalp in rows. I slid my hand across them again, reveling in the different texture.
Kesia's mouth closed over my pussy and I nearly lost my balance. One hand flew to the counter beside us, my fingers digging into the wood until my knuckles turned white. Kesia groaned against my pussy as her tongue lapped at my clit. Fingers dove in and out of my core while she sucked and licked at my sensitive nub.
"Kesia . . ." I whispered on a sigh.
My lids fluttered shut as pleasure crashed against my nerves like waves. My body quivered; I dug my fingers into Kesia's scalp, hanging on for dear life as the orgasm rushed through me. Her fingers slowed inside me, but she continued pumping them into my core while my pleasure crested.
I pulled on her hair, silently begging her to stand up. She obeyed, rising to her feet in front of me. I pressed my lips to hers, kissing her slowly. I could taste myself on her lips, and I bit back a sigh as I pressed my forehead against hers. A loud sizzle had us both turning toward the pot.
"Shit!" she muttered, rushing to move the pot from the flame. She braced herself against the stove, her back heaving with rapid breaths as she tried to regain her senses.
I leaned away from the wall and came up behind her, my hands roaming the slight curve of her stomach as I kissed over the back of her neck.
"You don't have to," she sighed.
I didn't bother responding to that, I simply bit down on the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck as my palm slid between her legs from behind and ground against her pussy through her undergarments, as she called them. My skin still tingled with the pleasure she'd brought me, I wanted her to enjoy herself as much as I had. That only seemed fair, did humans not usually reciprocate one another's affections?
"Oh my . . ." Her voice strangled when I pulled the useless fabric down her thighs and slid my hand along her seam over and over. Kesia glanced at me over her shoulder. "Your eyes," she whispered.
I held her gaze and slid two fingers inside her. My free hand bunched in the fabric that I had gathered in the small of her back, pulling her against me. She was so soft, and wet, and warm. I bit my lip; the way her muscles twisted and curved in the awkward position was strangely erotic.
"I want to hear you," she groaned as my fingers slipped against the wet flesh between her thighs.
"Hear me?"
"Sing for me," she begged.
Goosebumps erupted over my skin. I glanced to our left, at the door that led to the hall and shook the shivers that crept up my spine away. My lips brushed over Kesia's ear, my tongue darting out to tease the sensitive flesh as the song inside me rose. A soft melody drifted out of me as I rocked my fingers in and out. My chest swelled with emotion as I sang to her.
Kesia's hands gripped the edge of the stove, her back arching against me at the height of each note. My chest rose and fell as the song crashed between us like a wave. My thumb, slick with her juices, circled her rear. Kesia didn't tense beneath me like I'd expected, she pressed back against me, pushing the tip of my thumb just inside her ass.
"Please," she whimpered.
I pressed my thumb deeper, pulling my hand back and forth, filling her. I wrapped my free arm around her waist, sliding my hand lower. It danced over the patch of coarse hair that sprang forth and finally found its mark. My left rubbed her clit in fast circles as my right hand dipped in and out of her.
Kesia shuddered, her hips rolling wildly against my hand as she moaned. Her head dropped forward as her pussy tightened, squeezing my fingers as she came for me. I slipped my thumb free and slowly pulled my fingers from her pussy; I kissed over her ear, a smile on my lips as the song ended.
"Your voice is beautiful, Gia," Kesia panted. Her voice was muffled by her arms, where her head lay.
I nipped at her cheek playfully and pushed her dress back down her hips before I turned to find my own dress. My arms found the correct holes in the material eventually, and I pulled it over my head. I wrapped my arms around her, tugging her to my chest for a hug. I loved having my arms around this human. She loved my song . . . even though it wasn't meant to seduce her. I hadn't seduced her at all.
I didn't seduce her.
I spun Kesia around; she lifted her head sleepily and smiled at me. My eyes immediately found hers.
"You aren't scared of me?" My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for her answer.
Kesia shook her head and leaned up on her toes, kissing me. Her lips moved against mine like water flows over skin—soft, satisfying, enveloping. My heart ached in a strange way. Sad happiness or a happy sadness flowed through my body as I held her there in the galley.
Kesia—a piece of my heart I hadn’t realized I was missing.
"There's a cord between us now," she whispered against my cheek as she dropped tiny kisses across my face. Kesia grabbed my hand and pressed it to her chest, right above her heartbeat, her eyes locked on mine.
Tharump.
Tharump.
Tharump.
The skittering beat, still erratic from passion and emotion reverberated against my palm. She grabbed my other hand and laid it over my own chest. I blinked away the emotion pooling in my eyes.
Tharump.
Tharump.
Tharump.
"This is forever, Gia," she whispered.
I leaned my forehead against her own and brushed a light kiss on her nose. She was right, this was forever. Something stirred inside me—maybe it was my song—but something deep inside me was moved by this.
The sea can't have her, she's mine.
Chapter Four
> I walked behind Kesia, down the stairs that led to the area where the captives were held. My arms wrapped around the large pot. She'd told me usually one of the crew would help her carry the pot down into the cargo hold and would leave her there until she was done serving the captives.
I didn't see a reason to involve anyone in the crew. A protective possessiveness washed over me as I watched her step off the staircase and around the corner. I hurried to catch her, and all the breath left my body when I saw the contents of this cargo hold.
Lines upon lines of men and women, chained to the floor, filled the room. Younger children crawled and ran between the cramped adults and adolescents. I balanced the pot on my hip and covered my nose as the smell hit me. Beneath the captives ran vats filled with waste.
I looked at Kesia. Her face was hard, though her shoulders sagged.
"It's shameful, I know," she whispered. "Don't let them see your pity. They're proud, and it'll hurt them, Gia."
I nodded, keeping my silence. My heart hurt for the conditions these people were enduring. They were locked in a cargo hold, was it really necessary for them to be chained as well? I considered, for a moment, whether I'd ever seen my father chain prisoners. I couldn't remember anyone ever being chained in the sunken city, but that was hardly a fair reference.
"Come on." Kesia smiled and turned toward the first row. At the beginning of each cluster of captives sat a pile of small bowls. I set the pot down in front of the first and Kesia pointed to the dirty dishes. "We'll fill the bowls then hand them out and move on to the next row."
"Okay, love," I responded in her native language.
A few of the captives' heads snapped in my direction at the sound of the lyrical language. I spooned some of the disgusting human slop into a few bowls before I set off to deliver it.
"Thank you," a woman murmured.
"You're welcome." I smiled at her before I moved on to the next captive, and the next, and the next.
Eventually, their faces began to blend together. Some of them were grateful, some of them were understandably fearful, and some of them—even more understandably—were angry. Kesia looked my way frequently, checking on me as I helped with her chore. Every time I caught her looking, I'd smile back and continue doling out the disgusting dinner.
"Thank you, sea witch," a man laughed as I handed him his bowl.
I snatched my hand back and gaped at him. "I'm not a witch!" I hissed.
The man snickered as he turned the bowl up, pouring some of the gruel into his mouth. He cradled the bowl in his hands like something precious. I squinted in the dim lantern light, trying to gain a better view of him. His forehead was marked with six horizontal lines. His cheeks dimpled when he smiled up at me. It was the laughing scarred-faced man from earlier.
"You!"
"Yes, I'm me. I have been for quite some time," he teased.
I stood back and crossed my arms over my chest, equal parts amused and annoyed. How did this man even have the heart to try and annoy me given his current predicament? He'd also been amused on deck during the grotesque display the crew had the nerve to call exercise.
"I'm sure you have." I rolled my eyes. I noticed a cut on the side of his neck and reached toward it, using my fingers to prod the skin closest to the injury without actually touching it. "What happened?"
"One of your friends," he answered with a shrug. The ever-present smile on his face faded for only a second before his true emotions were once again hidden behind it.
I looked closer at the wound, entirely too close to the man for my comfort. I pressed on it, causing a yellow-green liquid to drip down his neck. "Don't your people normally bleed red?"
"Yes," he gritted out, clearly in pain. "How do you know our language? You're very pale to be a captive."
The scarred man's eyes met mine, and I paused, considering how to best answer his question. "I know lots of languages and I'm no one's captive." I rose and waved Kesia over from where she stooped, handing a bowl to a young woman. "Love, will you come here, please?"
Kesia nodded and padded our way. I pointed to the man's neck and waited patiently as she bent to inspect it. His face twisted in pain as she poked the area none too gently. I bit back a smile as she swatted his hand away when he tried to stop her.
"Stop your nonsense, Kamil. It's infected," she hissed.
I raised my eyebrows at the use of his name. "You know him?"
"He's always in trouble with the crew," Kesia huffed. "He and his brother can't stay out of trouble when they're on deck." Her voice sounded vaguely amused.
My eyes drifted to the scarred man—Kamil—and I sighed. I could certainly picture him being a troublemaker. He smiled at the oddest things, and it piqued my curiosity.
I turned to Kesia and brushed my hand across her cheek before asking, "If it’s infected, does that mean he needs treatment?" I tapped my lips with my finger, thinking.
"There is a medical kit in the captain's quarters." Kesia turned to me and cut her eyes toward the injured man. "He's chained, but he'll need stitches."
"Do you know who has the key to the chains? Can you please have him come down here? I'll dole out the food while you're gone," I suggested.
I bit my lip when she turned her face into my palm, kissing it. I was surprised by how sensitive that skin was to small things, like kisses . . . and Kesia's nipples rubbing against them . . .
A cough brought me back, and we both turned to see Kamil and the few men grouped with him staring at us. I shrugged and turned back to Kesia, kissing her softly on the lips.
"Okay, Gia. I'll be right back." She cast a glance at the captives before looking at me one last time.
I nodded, and she turned toward the staircase to leave.
As I stepped away from Kamil, I noticed how closely these captives were paying attention to me. I raked my fingers through my hair as I made my way back to the pot of gruel and resumed ladling it into bowls. When several were full, I stepped carefully around feet and chains, making my way back down the aisle of humans and toward the spot where I'd left off. I could feel Kamil's eyes on me while I juggled the bowls. I handed the food out in a rush and hurried back to him.
"What are you going to do?" he called out as I reached the pot once again.
I sighed to myself as I ignored him, speeding through the task to then make my way down the next row.
A small girl bumped into me, and I steadied her with a smile. "Be careful little human," I murmured. "Have you eaten yet?"
"Yes, my mama was in the first line." She pointed a few rows over, and I nodded.
"Do you want to help me? Could you fill bowls like this one and hand them out?"
The little girl nodded and rushed toward the pot. I shook my head and made my way back to Kamil with my arms crossed over my chest.
"What are you going to do?" he repeated, as if he thought I hadn't heard him the first time.
"I'm going to take you to the captain's quarters, and we will get that," I waved my hand at his neck, "cleaned up."
A noise from the corridor caught my ears, and I turned in time to see Winston bustling toward me with a meek version of Kesia trailing behind him.
"Why are you summoning me to this shithole in the middle of the night?" He covered his mouth when he spoke.
"I need you to unchain this one so I can treat his wounds." I pointed to Kamil and his injured neck. "An infected throat will kill him before we make port."
"Why do I care?"
"Aren't these people supposed to be workers for the land where you live? How can he work if he's dead?" I narrowed my eyes on the idiotic man and waited for him to understand. He still looked bored.
"If he's ill when we arrive, he won't sell for much," Kesia added in a quiet voice.
Winston ran a hand down his face and sighed, rooting around in his pocket. The thin man eyed the African warily, pulling the key from his pocket. "How do you know he won't attack when he's freed?"
I rolled my eyes and switched to the l
yrical tongue. "Kamil, do you plan on attacking anyone while I treat your wound?"
"No," he answered quickly. His smile was wide as he looked Winston up and down. "It wouldn't be a fair fight. He's built like a woman."
Beside me, Kesia chuckled. She quickly covered her mouth when Winston glared at her.
"What is he saying?"
"He says he won't harm a hair on your head, of course," I lied with a smile.
There were some things better left unsaid. Winston grumbled and stooped to examine the shackles on Kamil's ankles. The key found its lock and the shackles unclasped with a loud clink.
"You're responsible for him, girl," he hissed. "Make sure he doesn't die, or it'll be on your head since you are so concerned for the savage."
"Of course," I purred, meeting Winston's gaze.
His eyes slid down my body in appreciation before he stepped away. Someone yelped, and Winston cursed. He'd probably tripped over a foot or leg.
I sighed and held my hand out to Kamil. "Come on then," I muttered as I watched Winston bound up the stairs.
"Are you going to be alright, alone?" Kesia asked in the sailors' guttural language.
"I'll be fine. He won't give me any trouble. Siren, remember?" I smirked.
Kesia pushed a stray strand of hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ear, with worry wrinkling her brow. I didn't like her looking so upset. She turned to Kamil, shooting him a warning glare before she left to finish handing out the slop they called gruel.
I glanced down at our hands, still joined, and pulled him toward the stairs. "Come on," I repeated.
What I was quickly coming to think of as Kamil's signature grin stretched his lips as he padded along beside me. I took the steps quickly, very aware of the eyes boring into the back of my head, or ass as it were. I glanced over my shoulder at him in the dark. The sporadic lanterns didn't light the corridor or stairs very well, but I could still make out the mischievous glint in his eye. I shook my head as we reached the top and paused at the door that would lead through the hall hosting the crew quarters. I turned toward Kamil and swept my hair away from my neck—it hung loosely when I was above water, and the tickling sensation it made when it brushed against my skin was beginning to grate my nerves.
Shipwreck Souls Page 13