Through the Maelstrom

by Rebekah Lewis

  "You could have done that before."

  Ah, his impatient one. He didn't hear any more complaints once he lowered the breeches and stepped out of them. Nude except for the rings on his fingers and in his earlobes, he approached her.

  "Wait!" She sat up suddenly. "Condoms. Becky Ann left some."

  Did people still depend on sheep gut barriers to prevent pregnancy after all this time? Those were not easy to come by in his day. "Where are they?" He didn't enjoy such devices, but saw why she would be concerned. Perhaps she feared swelling with child before he could gain all the proper paperwork from the Bakers to make her his wife in the name of God and the law.

  She pointed beside her. "The drawer in the table by the bed." As he slid the drawer open, she gripped his arm. "No, wait! Don't open that!"

  There was no need to ask what had caused the outburst. Christophe picked up the paper with the writing on it, read it, and howled with laughter. Serena had covered her face with a pillow by the time he set it down. "All seven seas?"

  "I'm going to kill her," she said in a muffled voice. "The very next time I see her."

  Christophe replaced the paper and collected one of the seven items scattered about the drawer. He held one up, and studied the shiny package. "I have the condom, but it doesn't look like it would be very comfortable for either of us." He turned it over in his hand.

  Peeking over the top of the pillow, Serena snorted. "You have to rip open the corner and take it out. It's rolled up in lubrication inside the package." She sat up and reached for it, tearing the edge and pulling out the item within before patting the bed next to her. She pushed him onto his back and rolled it over his length with her delicate hands. Christophe groaned at her touch, biting his tongue and counting backward in his mind. He wasn't going to last very long, he feared.

  He leaned forward and kissed her, covering her hand with his so her touch lingered but prevented friction. He groaned against her lips until he felt safe to release her without making a fool of himself before he could see her taken care of properly.

  Serena sat up, reaching behind her to unhook the lacy barrier from her breasts. When she tossed it to the floor, he eased her back, trailing kisses down her body. Christophe would never have enough of her. He caressed her curves, pausing when he reached the final strap of lace. She lifted her hips as he pulled it over her thighs, her knees, and then he finally freed her of the lace entirely. It joined its companion on the floor.

  Clasping her hands within his, he sat up and shifted between her thighs, and she opened her legs to him willingly, trusting, seeking. Her body was soft, so warm and inviting. What had he ever done to deserve such perfection? Christophe released one of her hands to guide himself to her entrance. She was wet and ready for him. His mouth went dry and he met her gaze. Biting her lip, she nodded. With exquisite slowness, he pushed into her, holding eye contact the entire time.

  ***

  Christophe didn't move once he was inside of her, so Serena arched her hips and hoped he'd take the hint. All he did was laugh. "Ever impatient." But he pulled back, pushing in again unhurriedly. The pleasure was maddening.

  She didn't know it could be this way with someone. How could anything feel so amazing? Serena threw her head back, gasping as his movements grazed her clit. When he moved his hand between them to brush the spot with his calloused fingertips, her body bucked of its own accord. One of his rings slid against her and she nearly came at the shock of cold metal in contrast to the hot, slick friction of flesh, making her gasp and moan.

  "Like that, did you?" He brushed a ringed finger over her again and she shook from it. "I'll have to remember that for later." He released her hand and leaned forward, placing both palms against the mattress, kissing her and thrusting, filling her so completely.

  She wrapped her legs around him, wanting to be as close as humanly possible, loving every movement, every deep breath and groan, every kiss. Her hands were in his hair again, and his laughter made her realize she was tugging a little roughly. "Sorry!" she said against his lips while sliding her hands to his waist. He smiled, and his intense gaze was raw and a slightly frightening. Usually this would be her moment to freak out and worry about doing something wrong. Doing something that would make him laugh at her.

  But she couldn't look away. He was seeing her, making love to her. Could sex be so amazing every time? Was it because she had fallen unexpectedly and completely in love with him?

  The revelation hit her as swiftly as the intense orgasm that racked her body. Of course she loved him. Would the kiss have worked if she didn't? "I love you," she whispered, in awe of the reverence in her own voice.

  Christophe's eyes widened, and then the most breathtaking smile lighted his features. He kissed her, hard, closing his eyes as his body shuddered, and then he groaned as he came. His body continued to jerk unsteadily, and he said her name against her lips like a benediction.

  Seconds passed as their heartbeats returned to normal. He remained within her, but turned them so he wasn't crushing her with his weight. He lifted her hand, kissing the knuckles. "I fell in love with you the moment I saw you."

  Serena smiled. When he hadn't said more than her name at the end, she'd worried maybe she'd spoken too soon, despite his intense reaction to her declaration. "Supposedly we're soulmates, if Mrs. Baker is correct." She owed that amazing woman so much gratitude, for everything.

  "We should thank her in the morning."

  She agreed. After cleaning up, donning fluffy bathrobes provided by the cruise line, ordering room service, and cutting the lights, Serena laid back in Christophe's arms, listening to him tell her about his life in the eighteenth century. It was all so surreal, yet...she'd seen the maelstrom with her own eyes. She turned to look out the window at the precise moment another shooting star passed by.

  Thank you. She closed her eyes, willing the message to whatever power had seen fit to grant her birthday wish. Who said wishes never come true?

  Chapter Twelve

  Naturally, Serena convinced herself it had all been a dream by the time she awoke the next morning. The first clue it was real had to be the very handsy male kissing the back of her neck and urging her to wake by gently stroking and licking her skin. His erection pressed into her hip and she grinned. What was she to do at the hands of a notorious pirate?

  She had a few ideas, but she told him they had to wait until morning breath was defeated. She was glad he'd adapted well to the better hygiene of this century, and after using the bathroom, washing hands and faces, and brushing their teeth, the bed play was back on full force.

  They were in the shower when Becky Ann returned. Serena groaned, having forgotten her friend had been put out for the night and discarded clothes and rumbled sheets were evidence enough to prove what they'd been doing. There was no way she could live this down if her friend realized Christophe was in the room with her.

  "Five of them! Five? Holy shit, Serena!"

  Christophe started to laugh and she clamped a hand over his mouth. Serena, however, was seconds away from melting into the floor. She'd never live down her wanton ways. Never.

  "He's in the shower with you too?"

  The door banged open, releasing the steam they'd built up and allowing in the cooler air. Her skin prickled with goosebumps.

  "What the hell!" Serena stuck her head out of the shower curtain. "Ever heard of privacy? Go away."

  Becky Ann's clothes were askew and her hair a mess. She'd definitely done the walk of shame through the ship to return here. Ordinarily, that would make Serena feel sorry for her, but right now she wasn't able to move past being called out for the number of times she'd had sex over the past eleven hours. She definitely wouldn't admit that the banana flavor wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, but it still wasn't that wonderful. Worth it though, to see Christophe's reactions.

  That memory sent delicious heat through her and she shivered.

  "I stayed away the entire night for you." Becky Ann smirked. "Is that a
hickey on your neck?"

  "What?" She pulled herself back into the shower, away from her friend's critical eye. "No."

  "Not judging! By the way, Josiah is hung. Also I want to give Christophe a high five."

  She'd stayed with Josiah last night? Well, that explained her belated appearance since the spectacle last night. Wait...high five Christophe? "Why the hell would you do that?"

  "Hmm... Can you define 'do?'" Becky Ann said cheerfully. "Because if you mean Josiah, I don't think I need to explain because you've seen..." she paused, and when no comment was made, she sighed, as if realizing details would not be sought. "If you mean the high five, it's because he pulled you out of your shell, duh. I witnessed the crazy woo-woo whirlpool shit last night, and the show-stopping kiss that shut it down. See what magical things making out with hot pirates can get you?"

  "Go away," Serena hissed, peeking back out the side of the shower curtain. Christophe was laughing so hard now he was shaking. He'd pay for that later, but would probably enjoy it.

  Becky Ann stood her ground and leaned against the counter where she studied her cuticles as if she had nowhere else to go. "Not until you admit I was right to push you at Christophe since it all worked out better than a movie. No one got poisoned. Okay, there was the shark...but no one got eaten..." A wicked smirk crossed her face as she arched an eyebrow. "Or did they?"

  Christophe had to sit down in the tub to keep from falling over. So much for her sexy morning shower. "Becky!"

  Her friend held up her hands in response to Serena's shriek. "Calm your tits, I won't ask about the details. Until you're alone."

  Jesus Christ, would she have to get out, naked, and push her friend out the door? "Fine. Thank you. Go away. Please!"

  Smiling brightly, Becky Ann curtseyed. "You're welcome." Finally, she stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door. "But I'm changing clothes so give me ten minutes to be out of the way!"

  Serena leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, covering her face with her hands as the warm water trickled over her skin. God, how mortifying. Some people had no filter whatsoever, and she'd had to befriend the one whose filter had never existed. She couldn't look at Christophe. What if he thought her slutty for going through five condoms with him in so short a time? What if, in the morning light, he realized he'd gotten what he wanted from her and there were bigger fish in the sea of the new century he was in?

  "Your friend is most entertaining." Christophe said, and she heard him maneuvering off the floor of the tub. Suddenly she was in his arms, and he was rubbing her back in soothing circles. "But she should learn when enough is enough. I'm sorry I laughed. It took me by surprise. I'm not sure when I will be used to women speaking so openly about private matters, and she merely continued with it undaunted."

  "She's going to be merely dead if she embarrasses me one more time." It was frustrating having extroverted friends. She loved that girl like a sister though, which was the only reason she put up with the trauma. "And you can't play the time travel card every time you laugh at something she says that's out of line."

  "Card?"

  "Turn of phrase." She looked up at him, her lip twitching at the puzzled expression on his face. "I know there's a lot of adjusting for you, but I have to as well. I'm used to being alone. I'm not really good at being so...exposed."

  "Ah," he said. "We all look silly when we are teased, love. That's how things are. But know this." He kissed her briefly and tilted her head up so she would look at him instead of his shoulder. "I will never think ill of you."

  They bathed in silence, waiting for the sound of the door closing loudly to signal Becky Ann's departure before they turned the water off and grabbed their towels. It gave Serena time to think. Before they docked, she wanted to visit Mrs. Baker one last time and make sure they had each other's information. She knew Christophe wanted to find work to provide for her, but until he had a modern identity and a background to be searched, he didn't exist in any databases. She'd never thought she'd have to participate in document forgery, but if the Powers That Be thought it fitting to send her a soulmate, the least they could do was turn a blind eye so she could keep him.

  As he helped her towel dry her hair, he asked, "What's making you frown, love?" He seemed to have a knack for picking up on shifting emotions. As soon as her happiness drifted into anything sad or even stressful, he would ease her back into contentment. She could ask where he'd been all her life, but she knew the answer.

  She shrugged. "Wondering about things. The future. Where do we go from here? Where to hide Becky Ann's dead body."

  "You'd miss her," he warned.

  "Only a little. We can build a sculpture in her honor. One that can't talk." There's a thought.

  "As for what happens later, we'll deal with it as it comes." Christophe traced the edge of the towel she had wrapped across her breasts, tugging to catch a peek. "Anything I can do to keep your mind off tomorrow and here with me?"

  The desire in his expression was worth any amount of embarrassment if she was to be rewarded with pleasure. She couldn't have received a better birthday gift.

  "Well," Serena shivered as he stripped her of her towel completely, tossing it with his into the tub. "There are two more condoms." And she'd be buying more the minute they made it back to the mainland. "Should I prepare to be boarded?" It was his fault she was turning into a wanton woman, but then again...what could one expect when falling for a pirate.

  Books by Rebekah Lewis

  If you enjoyed Through the Maelstrom, check out these great paranormal and fantasy reads by Rebekah Lewis

  THE CURSED SATYROI SERIES

  Wicked Satyr Nights

  Midnight at the Satyr Inn

  Under the Satyr Moon

  Mercury Rising

  Satyr from the Shadows

  THE WONDERLAND SERIES

  The Vanishing

  The Unraveling

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at Wicked Satyr Nights and The Unraveling!

  Wicked Satyr Nights

  The Cursed Satyroi, Book 1

  The clamor of nearby voices woke Pan from a most relaxing slumber. Morning sunlight glared through the canopy of trees above, mocking him. Because the times he managed to sleep dreamlessly were few and far between, the disruption grated his nerves. He gritted his teeth at the sounds and held up a hand to shield his eyes from the bright onslaught. After adjusting, he yawned and supposed it was time to get up and occupy himself somehow. Finding a method to distract from his eternal boredom hadn't gone very well lately.

  There wasn't much to do aside from playing tricks on the hapless humans. He supposed he could fall back on old habits and allow himself to be ruled by his lust as he had three thousand years ago, but he worried he wouldn't be able to stop if he did. He'd been close to mindless, living for the pleasure of it. Something he'd been able to control enough around others like him, but not entirely.

  And now... Pan lived for a nice, leisurely nap. But at least he did eventually rouse, unlike so many of the other gods of olden times. Last he'd heard, most of them were just shy of comatose within their fortified realm of Mount Olympus, hoping to wake the day they had followers once more. Idiots. They were long forgotten, enjoyed as bedtime stories and fanciful movie characters. It amused him beyond words.

  The gods had become lessons in morality, gender, religion, sexuality, and culture. Reduced to a fictional existence because the humans who told their stories had long since died. Those who remained couldn't wrap their minds around anything other than science and what their own two eyes could perceive as reality. Sure, there were several religions that believed in a higher power capable of defying the laws of science, but even those individuals would scoff when confronted with the idea of an extraordinary being and turn the other cheek. Unfortunately, those who were open-minded feared the worst from the unexplained, considering anything unheard of as unholy monsters. Demons.

  Pan stretched before reaching his hand behind him to brush the moss and
grass from his denim-encased backside. He'd gone through a period of nudity while living in seclusion at one point, a few centuries back. Wearing clothes served him no purpose or comfort, but rolling over on a pinecone was even less wonderful than the freedom being naked provided. In the old days, he covered himself in animal furs or even the light fabrics of the Greek and Roman civilizations of long past. But since arriving in North America, he'd had to adapt to new cultural trends should he wish to go among society without drawing attention to himself. The clothing over the decades changed rapidly, but he found jeans agreeable. Luckily, he could manifest his clothes, as he needed them tailor-made, so to speak. It was difficult to shop for pants that worked with hooves rather than feet. Too much length could trip him, and balance was still an issue—even for a god.

  Not that anyone could see him under his cloaking glamour, but if they could, they'd see a tall man in denim and a T-shirt. If they glanced at his head or his feet they'd believe he'd escaped from a circus sideshow. Unlike the common depiction of satyrs, his legs hadn't become scrawny appendages that could barely support his weight. Where his calves would have met with ankles and heels, they curved in the opposite direction of his knee and into thick cloven hooves. Curling along the sides of his head were two horns, like those of a ram. They were bulky and hard, the ends blunted.

  Mythology painted satyrs in various different forms, but he didn't have a goatee or elongated ears. His legs were hairier than a normal man's past his knees, but looked like any other man's above mid-thigh. He didn't have a tail or any other animal-like features. In truth, he was not part animal at all, though the horns, hooves, and hairy legs might seem that way. He had been cursed into this form, and his body had grown, reshaped, and mutated into the beastly appearance. An appearance was all it was; he didn't take on animal behavioral characteristics or anything crazy like that. He was just malformed and horny. Eternally horny. The punishment for a crime he'd not meant to commit. A crime that hadn't been truly a crime. A misunderstanding really...