by Hazel Hunter
The woman was up and out of the booth so quickly, that Gillian could only gasp as she opened her eyes. She had barely pulled the room into focus when Konrad Marin passed the woman and headed toward the booth––or at least he tried. Instead, she laid a hand on his arm, and pointedly rubbed her thumb and index finger together in front of his face.
He grimaced. “I know,” he said. “I’ll pay you Monday. Promise.” She let him go. Then she nodded in Gillian’s direction and headed to the door.
Gillian was still trying to collect herself as Konrad slid into the booth opposite her. He’d been about to say something but paused, examining her face.
“I see you’ve met Sal,” he said with a smirk.
Gillian’s face flushed hot. “Um…”
“I know,” was all he said.
Konrad was thin, his face nearly gaunt, under the black knit cap. Thick stubble covered his chin and cheeks. Though not old, his skin had the look of too much time in the sun, or scoured by a salty, sea spray. He took a pipe from his jacket pocket and a pocket knife from somewhere under the table.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of a Templar in Port Ilya, let alone seen one. What business have you got with them?”
Gillian’s eyes were focused on the knife. Though Konrad had saved her, she didn’t know a thing about him. Someone had once told her that lambs didn’t thank wolves for rescuing them from the slaughterhouse. He flipped the blade out and began to dig hardened tobacco from the bowl of the pipe.
“Bad luck and a grudge, maybe?” she said. He tapped the pipe on the table to empty it. Then he folded the knife and set it aside. “My companion killed some of his friends.”
“Killed Templars eh?” Konrad lit a match on the rough wood. “Your companion has good taste.”
“I do,” Shayne said, coming to sit down at the table by Gillian’s side.
“Shayne!” She threw her arms around his neck. “Are you all right? What happened?”
His strong arms wound around her, and Gillian was sure she’d never felt anything so wonderful.
“I dealt with the Templar,” he said quietly. He pulled back, holding her face. “Are you all right?” She nodded, about to tell him about Konrad. “I also went back to the plane. I couldn’t just leave our pilot on the tarmac. I put him back in the plane and radioed Lena’s coven.”
In an instant, Gillian was back in that moment, talking with… She didn’t even know his name. Fresh tears began to fill her eyes. Shayne gently hugged her again.
“It had nothing to do with you,” he said. “Templars are to blame. As a matter of fact, I still have to find the other. I don’t like loose ends.”
“Well, with regard to that loose end,” Konrad said. “I might be able to put your mind at ease.”
Shayne let Gillian go and frowned at Konrad, who was puffing on his pipe. Shayne blinked.
“Do I know you?”
“Lots of people have known me,” Konrad said. “Especially if you’ve sailed the Atlantic for the last fifty years.”
“And I haven’t. Sorry, you just look familiar.”
“It happens. But as I was saying, I found your friend being accosted by a Templar. He’s been dealt with, as you say.” Konrad paused as the two men eyed each other. “Captain Konrad Marin of the Sirena,” the man said simply.
“Shayne Savatier.”
Gillian noticed that Shayne didn’t give his rank or affiliation with the Corps.
Konrad took the bit of the pipe between his lips and puffed, looking pointedly at her.
“Gillian,” she said, quickly. “Gillian Granger.”
“Pleased to meet you, Gillian Granger.” He took another puff. “I take it the two of you just arrived.”
Gillian had been about to say yes, but the pressure of Shayne’s thigh against hers stopped her.
“And you?” Shayne asked. “Have you been in Port Ilya long?”
“Nope,” Konrad answered quickly, and then coughed. “I tell you, killing Templars is mighty thirsty work, mighty thirsty.” He pointedly coughed again.
Shayne nodded. He waved at the barkeep and held up three fingers.
Konrad seemed content to smoke his pipe, and Shayne put an arm around Gillian’s shoulders. She wanted nothing more than to burrow into the safety of his embrace, but that would have to wait. The bartender arrived with three pewter mugs, grasping all three handles in one pudgy hand. Shayne took out a credit card and handed it to her.
Konrad was already tipping the contents of the mug into his mouth and swallowing loudly. He thunked the mug onto the table with an exaggerated “Ah” and used the back of his hand to wipe gold froth from his stubble.
“That’s more like it,” he said, smiling. “I put into Port Ilya for repairs and supplies a few days ago. I’ll be leaving soon to beat the winter winds.”
Shayne glanced at Gillian.
“I take it the Sirena is for hire?” she asked.
Konrad smiled at her. “For the right customer. Ay, that she is.”
“We’re heading to the Midnight Market,” Shayne said. “If you can take us there, we can pay you.”
Konrad’s smile vanished. He stared down into the tankard.
“The Midnight Market, you say. Hmm. Not many a captain who’ll sign up for that.” Shayne waited him out, taking a sip of what smelled to Gillian like beer. “I’ll wager there’s only a handful’s ever been there.”
“And are you one?” Shayne asked, a light note of challenge in his tone.
“Maybe yes,” said Konrad. “Maybe no.”
Shayne looked around the tavern. “Of course, Ilya is a port. No doubt there are many captains, many boats. It’ll be interesting to speak with them.” He waved at the barkeep, then made as though he were jotting a note in his hand. She nodded.
“What’s your hurry?” Konrad said quickly.
He finished his drink in two big gulps. The barkeep showed up in time to take his mug before it could reach the table. She slipped the credit card and bill to Shayne.
“No hurry,” Shayne replied easily. “But, as you say, the winter winds.”
As he put away his card, Gillian remembered the interchange between Konrad and the woman who’d kissed her.
“Or maybe Captain Marin isn’t in need of customers,” she said. “Maybe he’s content to remain in port for the season. That would only be–”
“That’d be smart,” he said gruffly. “I’ve never been that.” He looked between her and Shayne. “The Midnight Market, eh?” He glanced left and right, leaning forward. “Twenty-thousand. I’ll need all the money up front. But your timing is good. The Sirena can leave straight away.”
Gillian nearly gasped at the sum.
“You’ll get half now,” Shayne said, also leaning forward. “Half when we’re there. Otherwise, no deal.”
Konrad licked his lips, glancing down at Gillian’s mug. On an impulse, she pushed it toward him. He smirked as he snatched it up.
“Deal,” he said, before taking a few long swallows. As he set it down, he tried to stifle a belch. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand again. “If there’s no other Templars you want to kill, we can be on our way in an hour.”
“In the dark?” Gillian said, surprised. “Surely the tide hasn’t come in yet.”
Konrad’s smile was wide, his dark eyes glittering.
“Begging your pardon, Gillian, but the Sirena’s never listened to the tide.”
CHAPTER TWO
GILLIAN NEARLY TOLD Shayne she’d changed her mind. The Sirena looked like it was ready for the scrapyard, not the ocean. The long hull was pitted with barnacles, the sails hung limp as bandages from two worn masts.
Shayne looked askance at it, pausing on the dock.
“So when you said that the Sirena never listens to the tide,” he said, “did you mean that it just sinks?”
Konrad’s smile was bright.
“You want to get to the Midnight Market?” he asked. “Well, this is the way to do it.”
>
He leaped from the gangway down to the ship, waiting for them behind the rail. It occurred to Gillian that he looked at ease, in a way he didn’t on land, as though he belonged there. For a moment, she had the strange urge to reach out and touch the Sirena without her gloves. She hugged herself tight with surprise.
“What is she?” Gillian asked. Shayne stepped down the plank, and she followed.
“You can tell she’s special, can’t you? I could be sly and say that this is the Sirena, and that she’s a one off. You’ll never find another ship like her. But that would be wrong, mostly. There are ships like her. But generally they’re only found on the bottom of the sea.” He waved her over. “Come on, if you’re coming. You’ll understand better when you’re on board.”
Exchanging a last glance, Shayne jumped down, then turned to help Gillian. She handed him her backpack, which he slung over his shoulder, then he took her by the waist. When her feet hit the deck, she had to blink.
“Oh,” she said softly.
A sense of well-being swept through her, as if she was being kept safe on the waves.
“What is she?” she asked again.
“She’s a raised ship,” Konrad said, grinning. “She was sunk almost two hundred years ago, but the old girl just couldn’t rest. I heard her calling and brought her up. Ever since, she sails where I say. Believe me when I say she’s safe and sound.”
“She’s wonderful,” Gillian said, regretting she’d ever doubted it.
“Come,” Konrad said. “Let me show you to your berth. I take it you’ll be sleeping together?”
The pause was a long one, until Gillian realized that Shayne was looking at her.
“Oh,” she said hesitantly. “Um…yes, together.”
“I’m her escort,” Shayne said, his face expressionless. “I should be close by.”
If Konrad thought there was something odd about their answer, he gave no indication. Instead, he simply picked up a lantern from the deck. It lit up with a green flame at his touch. It was like going to sea in a ghost ship. But for some reason, that made her feel safer.
“Konrad, are you aligned with a coven?” Shayne asked, as they descended the stairs.
Gillian half-knew what the answer was going to be, and she tensed.
“No, there are no covens that rule over the Atlantic, and that is where I make my home. Is that a problem for you?”
“Not for me,” Shayne said. “I’ve wandered a good part of this globe. Rogues have done me a fair turn, here or there.”
Konrad’s smile was broad, even pleased. “No doubt you’ve earned it.”
He opened a small door, held the lantern high, and stepped through. Though the room was snug, the bed was large enough for them both. There was a shelf of books along one wall with a latched ridge that would hold them in place when the seas grew rough. On the wall above the bed, a round portal reflected the lantern light.
Konrad hung it from a hook on a low ceiling rafter. “I’m across the hall when I’m resting, but I’ll be seeing to the ship for a bit.”
With that he disappeared through the door, closing it after him. They heard his footsteps retreat and then pound up the stairs. They were alone.
Shayne set the backpack in the corner. “Do you want me to take the floor?”
“What?” Gillian asked, shocked at the serious expression he turned to her.
“You hesitated when he asked if we would share a room––which I think we should. But with regards to the bed…” Shayne paused for a moment. “A lot has happened, to say the least. We jumped into things pretty fast.” He watched her face. “And they were good,” he said quickly. “But maybe it was too fast.”
Gillian turned away from Shayne, not wanting him to see the hurt in her eyes.
“I didn’t think it was too fast,” she said, her voice strained. “I’m…I’m sorry you regret it.”
“Gillian.” His strong arms wrapped her in a tight embrace. His breath was warm on her neck. “I don’t regret a thing.”
She closed her eyes in relief. His soft lips kissed a trail from the base of her neck to just behind her ear.
“That feels so good,” she murmured, tilting her head.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he whispered against her skin.
Up on deck, she could hear footsteps going to and fro. The timbers around them creaked a little. She’d been about to say they must be underway, when Shayne gently turned her face to him and kissed her. His mouth was almost tentative at first, but in moments his lips were kneading into hers, firm, demanding… Gillian remembered the bar.
“Oh my god,” she gasped, pulling back.
Shayne immediately let her go and stepped back. His eyebrows mounded furiously, and he mouthed a silent “what?”.
“In the bar,” she said, hugging herself. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
She told him about the woman there, the words tumbling out in no particular order. Though Shayne raised his eyebrows, he didn’t interrupt. When she finally finished her breathless tale, he chuckled a little.
“Your first time, I take it?” he asked, smiling.
“My…my…what?” she managed to stammer. This was not the reaction she’d been expecting.
“I’m disappointed,” he said, and her heart clenched, “that I wasn’t there to watch.”
She’d been about to attempt an explanation but stopped. Though she knew she had to be gaping at him, she couldn’t stop.
“I’ve lived eight-hundred years, Gillian. After the first hundred or so, experimentation is nice.” He watched her intently. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?”
Though she felt as though she was melting under his gaze, she couldn’t lie.
“No,” she said quietly, staring at the floor.
In fact, at the moment, she couldn’t remember a kiss that had so taken her breath away.
The ship began to rock, the motion small at first, but growing steadily. She wobbled a bit. Shayne quickly closed the distance between them. But rather than embrace her, he moved her backward toward the bed. A thought occurred to her, and she stopped him.
“Wait. Are you saying you’ve been with other men?”
Shayne froze, hands around her waist, looking down into her eyes.
“Yes,” he said. “Is that a problem?”
In all honesty, she didn’t know. His one brown eye and one blue, looked between hers. She tried to imagine it––Shayne with another man––but didn’t even know where to begin. But slowly, as her hands found his rounded biceps and she gazed at his broad chest, she saw two Shaynes. She pictured him with that man, equally beautiful, both carved like Greek gods, both needing each other, one submitting to the other. They were gorgeous. Gillian blinked.
“I see it’s not,” Shayne said lowly, his voice like velvet.
She could hardly deny it, as a delicious warmth slowly spread between her legs.
His fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress, then deftly he undid the hooks of her bra. In seconds, every stitch of her clothing was on the floor. But rather than undress, he took his time looking at her, his eyes covering every inch of her body. The ship rose and fell, as if cresting a wave. Again she swayed, not used to a moving floor. Shayne circled her waist with his arm, steadying himself with a hand on one of the rafters over his head. His face was only inches from hers.
“Have you been in love?” he said lowly.
The question surprised her, looking into his glittering eyes. She hesitated, but then she shook her head. She’d had affairs, but nothing that had ever seemed like love, like something that would last.
“Have you?” she asked.
“I thought I had,” he whispered hoarsely, “until I met you.”
He moved her backward toward the bed again, and this time she could hardly wait. She stretched out on it, naked except for her gloves. He was still fully clothed, watching her, unmoving. Desire like electric current flowed between their bodies, connecting them, and pulling
them together. He knelt over her.
She stroked his pecs through the fabric, pressing her palms flat. His muscles tensed and mounded under her touch.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“Whatever you want to,” he replied.
It wasn’t indifference, she could see. His shallow breaths matched hers. His fevered gaze felt like fire on her skin. She sat up, making him sit back, and ran her hands down his chest again, then over his corrugated abs, and around his corded waist.
“Take off your clothes,” she said experimentally.
Without a word, he stood and reached for his belt, never breaking their gaze. In less time than it took him to undress her, he was naked. His cock jutted from his body almost aggressively. She could feel warmth spread up into her belly. For all of their intimacy, she had never really seen his body. It was magnificent. There was so little fat, the muscles looked chiseled. His wonderfully broad chest tapered to tiny hips, wrapped with sinews. His hair-rough thighs flexed in time with the ship’s rocking.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
His back was like slabs of muscle, and his ass was plump. But the back, like the front, bore a few scars. It gave him a primal look, as though he were a wild beast, but one that she controlled.
“Come here and lie on the bed.”
“On my back or on my stomach?”
Gods she was enjoying this, and maybe so was he. “On your back for now,” she said.
He did as she said, resting his head back on his hands. He was stretched out for her, his tummy so flat, and his erection thick and red. She loosely wrapped her hand around it, drawing her fingers along the length in a way that made him hiss. She squeezed it, and a moan rose from deep in his throat.
“Is that all right?” she asked, coyly.
His nod was jerky. “You don’t know how much willpower it’s taking for me to stay still.”
“Oh? What would you do if I let you move and touch me?”
“Oh hells below,” he growled. “I would have you on your back. I’d spread your legs wide.” Gillian stroked his cock without thinking. “I’d…I’d devour you, just as I did before.” She stroked him faster. “I want you sweating and groaning and writhing until you…”