by Kiersten Fay
Teasing little witch.
There must be some reason behind her unwavering hatred toward him. Either that, or she just enjoyed tormenting him, which was the far more likely scenario.
Well, if she insisted on accusing him of being a despicable pirate, he was more than willing to show her one.
* * *
The next evening, Sonya entered The Demon’s Punchbowl ready to start her shift and make sure Ethan had been respecting her orders. She paused in the doorway to gauge the nearly empty room. A few customers were scattered across the pub, but Ethan was nowhere to be found.
Seeing the stock room door ajar, light shining, she moved in to investigate.
Ethan faced away from her, his head tilted back as he guzzled straight from a bottle.
Fury hit her. “I’ll kill you, pirate!” She lunged.
Without even looking, he managed to sidestep her attack, and her fist almost met with a line of bottles on a shelf.
“Calm yourself, female.” He turned to her, one finger hooked loosely around the bottleneck. “I was just sampling the product to see what would be best to recommend to our clients.”
“My clients!” She growled, cursing herself for not taking care of his attitude problem last night.
“I’ll pay for the liquor. It was only a drop.”
“Damn right you’ll pay for it! And that bottle was nearly full till you got your hands on it.”
The bastard had the gall to roll his eyes at her. “Very well, I’ll buy you another bottle. What’s the big deal?” He brushed a hand through his hair and shot her an uncaring smile. Then, with a slur in his voice, he said, “You know, you’re rather attractive when you’re pissed off. You should remain that way all the time.”
She swung her fist at him, but again missed. How could he be so fast, especially drunk? She blamed the confined space. She wasn’t used to fighting in such small quarters and feared trashing her entire stock.
“What’s going on?” Anya called from behind.
“Princess!” Ethan greeted with a smile.
Taking advantage of his temporary distraction, Sonya latched her tail around the almost empty bottle still grasped in his hand and flung it hard into the side of his head. The glass shattered, and a smile spread across her lips as he went down.
Anya shrieked. “What are you doing?” She rushed past Sonya and knelt beside his limp body. “Ethan?”
“His head is far too thick for me to do any real damage.” When Anya gave her a chiding look, Sonya whined, “He was stealing my liquor.”
Anya let out an exasperated sigh. “You two have got to stop fighting. Sebastian and I are leaving for Undewla soon, and you’ll be acting as captain. If you want your pub to stay open, then you need him. Everyone else is occupied with their own jobs. Sebastian had to pull one of the mechanics to work the galley.”
“Yeah, and the food just isn’t the same,” Sonya grumbled.
With worry etched in her features, Anya’s head dropped. Sonya recalled Sebastian saying that she blamed herself for Marik’s situation.
“It’s not your fault Mark was captured,” Sonya said. “And you’ll find him, don’t fret. Marik can take care of himself. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“That was a cheap shot, demon witch.” Ethan sluggishly sat up and gripped his head.
Sonya couldn’t help but smirk. “But I thought I was oh-so pretty when I was angry? Change your mind, did you?
“Indeed.”
He placed his hand over the bloody patch where the bottle had sliced him. Brightness erupted under his palm. Sonya shielded her eyes until the light faded away.
He stood a bit wobbly and pinned Sonya with a dark stare. “That tail of yours is wicked. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on it from now on.”
“You do that!” Wait, had she just given him permission to check out her tail? “Just keep your eyes on my pub, and if I catch you sneaking drinks again, you might not be able to heal after what I’ll do to you.”
Anya pulled her from the room and gave her a serious look that didn’t fit her sweet face. “Promise me you will not kill him while we’re gone.”
Sonya raked both hands down her face and let out a frustrated groan. “Come on, Anya.”
Anya set her chin and crossed her arms, and gave a hard shake of her head.
“What if it’s an accident?”
Ethan stumbled to the door of the stock room and leaned against it, offering a self-satisfied grin in her direction. Sonya couldn’t help but sneer at him.
“Promise me,” Anya repeated, managing to miss Ethan’s half of the exchange.
“Alright. Murder is off the table.” That was as much as she was agreeing to.
Anya nodded, giving them both a stern look before leaving them alone.
Sonya stepped behind the bar to begin work as usual, expecting Ethan to take off now that she was there. Instead, he claimed an empty table across the room and waited…as though she should serve him!
She grabbed a damp rag and began wiping down tables around the bar, purposely avoiding his stare. She smiled at a table of customers near him. “You need anything?”
One of the three males raised his bottle. “I’ll take another one.”
She returned to the bar and popped the lid off a fresh ale before sauntering back. Handing the drink over, she asked, “Anything else?”
The other two shook their heads.
As she headed back toward the bar, Ethan called out, “Paying customer thirsty over here.”
The handful of other patrons glanced at Ethan, with a mixture of dubious expressions. No one ever spoke to her like that.
Sonya inhaled a calming breath, barely able to reign in her anger. “When you’ve paid for what you took, then we’ll talk.”
“Put it on my tab,” he replied.
“This isn’t the kind of shit-hole that you’re used to. You pay or you go.” She pointed to the door.
He didn’t budge.
She resumed ignoring him and focused on cleaning the mess he had left for her. Glasses piled high in the sink and along the counter. It looked as though he hadn’t cleaned a single dish or counter during the whole of his shift. The mats at her feet were disheveled. She leaned down to fix them, then studied her backsplash. Many of the bottles were in disarray. The expensive stock now mingled with the cheap stuff, and vice versa.
Had he intentionally muddled their order?
As soon as she set to fixing it, she sensed he had relocated to a seat at the bar. Once the last bottle was in its rightful place, she turned to see him studying her.
“You didn’t miss a single one.” He gave her an apprising glance.
Her ire spiked. “So you did do that on purpose?”
He shrugged and continued to look at her curiously.
Trying not to feel self-conscious by his scrutiny, she resumed straightening. She was still pissed, but taking care of her pub helped to relax her a little. She no longer felt murderous, anyway, though the night was young.
“Why do you care so much about this place?” he asked.
She stilled and then glanced back at him. Was he really attempting small talk?
She gauged his expression, which seemed genuinely interested, but chalked it up to the fact that he was inebriated.
Ethan wasn’t sure what had compelled him to engage her in conversation, especially when he had intended to continue to drive her mad.
She remained silent for a long moment, and he assumed she wasn’t going to answer at all.
Then she lifted her shoulder in an uncharacteristically shy manner as she lowered her gaze. “It’s the one thing on this ship that’s all mine.”
“Explain.”
She glared at him, her eyes smoldering with indignation. One thing he’d learned about her was that she despised being ordered around.
“Please,” he added.
She eyed him dubiously, somewhat reserved once more, yet her anger toward him was still bobbing the surface of her emotions.<
br />
Finally, she replied, “It’s important for me to pull my own weight. Sebastian captains the ship and makes most of the decisions, Cale is his second in command, and I provide a service to bring in money. I pay a monthly rate for this space which helps us to purchase supplies and maintain Marada when jobs are scarce.”
Ethan leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t expected such an honest answer, and without a single insult thrown his way.
“We don’t go around stealing whatever we like, as others do.” An accusatory glance followed her words.
Ah, that was more like it.
“Like I said, I wasn’t stealing. I was sampling. If I’m going to work here, I’m going to need to know which flavors mesh well together.”
“Yet you’re clearly drunk.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “A fortunate side effect. And I’m not that bad off. My tolerance is higher than most.”
“Or so you’d like to believe.”
“I’m sure I’d keep up just fine with a demon’s pace.”
Her lips curled into a roguish grin. “Is that a challenge?”
“Take it as you like.”
“Poor decision making is another side effect of being drunk.”
“You just name the time.”
Sonya paused and studied him. “You must be joking.”
“If you lose, I get to drink free for life.”
“And what do I get if you lose?”
He shrugged. “I could help extract that insidious metal bar from your ass.”
“Impossible, since you’re the reason it’s there.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. Then I’ll work for free.”
She grinned like a feline toying with prey. “Then let’s do this.”
A round of cheers erupted from the other patrons, who had apparently been listening. Ethan turned to the room, catching a few pitying head shakes in his direction.
Sonya disappeared into the storeroom and reemerged with a bottle filled to the brim. He recalled that particular brand had tasted very strong.
“I’m starting off at a disadvantage,” he pointed out.
“Not for long.” She poured herself a generous portion and then downed it in a few large gulps. When she lowered the glass, she feigned a sweet smile. “Does that seem about the right amount?”
He jerked his chin to the bottle. “Better have a little more.”
Not bothering to argue, she refilled her glass and emptied it just as quickly as the first. Then she pulled out a second glass, filled them both and offered him one.
Ethan lifted his and took in a mouthful. “Are there rules to this game?” he asked.
“We go till one of us falls over.”
“Sounds good.”
Demons may have a naturally high tolerance for alcohol, but she was just a wisp of a thing. That should work in his favor.
“And to keep us both standing, we’ll both be serving customers as we go.”
“Very well.” Ethan moved behind the bar and finished the contents of his glass, then held it out for her to refill it. “I believe you’re behind again.”
Sonya laughed, shaking her head before she chugged down her drink. “I’m not carrying you back to your room when you pass out.”
“That’s fine, He said. “Consequently, I will be carrying you back to yours.”
She frowned at him. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“Are you afraid you’ll lose?”
“Not in the slightest.”
He gave an impish grin and jiggled his empty glass at her.
Before long, he lost count of how many bottles they’d finished. His blurry vision told him five sat on the counter, but three—or maybe four—others had been deposited in the waste disposal unit.
Word of their competition must have spread through the ship because the pub was now bustling. Patrons crowded the bar and called out orders, obviously trying to confuse the both of them. From the corner of his eye, Ethan saw money exchange hands and knew bets were being made.
Sonya and Ethan stumbled around, filling orders and making sure their own glasses never completely emptied. Each time one of them fumbled with their footing, the room would erupt in howls, and both he and Sonya would join in the laughter.
Sonya wobbled on her feet for the seventh time—at least he thought it was the seventh—as she crossed to the other end of the bar to take an order.
By the sounds rolling through the crowd, Ethan determined that the room was evenly split, half cheering for him, and half for Sonya. He would have commented on her near fall, but all his concentration was focused on keeping himself upright. He’d nearly sunk to the ground a dozen times already.
Sonya returned to his side of the bar with a devilish grin and wiggled their shared liquor bottle at him. He glanced down at his almost empty glass.
As she sloshed more liquid to his glass, she leaned over the counter top, braced on her forearm. Her position gave him a clear view of her succulent cleavage. He stifled a groan.
She smiled up at him. “Ready to give up, pirate?”
He frowned. She’d been doing little provocative things like that all night. It was driving him mad, and she knew it.
Abruptly, he took a step toward her, and she straightened. He gripped her by the arm and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Teasing me with your body will not help you win this, vietta.”
She reared back, eyes wide. Deep crimson spread over her cheeks. “What? I wasn’t…” She skated a worried glance over the crowd as if fearing someone had heard his whispered accusation. Then she narrowed her gaze at him. “Your mind games won’t work.” She turned to take another order, her movements slightly stiffer than before.
Did she not realize the power of her attractiveness? Could that even be possible? But as he continued to observe her, he started to suspect that might just be the case.
By the time they had gone through another few bottles…each…Ethan’s legs were like some kind of wobbly confection, nearly unreliable in their support. Worse, the slipperiness of every surface seemed to have increased tenfold.
Sonya wasn’t in the greatest shape either, but she still managed to complete orders while swaying her ass to the music.
When a wave of dizziness splashed over him, he feared he might just lose this tournament—a fear that was confirmed a few moments later when he found himself face up on the ground.
The crowd was a mix of groans, cheers, and laughter.
Sonya leaned over him with a triumphant grin. Her words came out slurred, yet teasing. “I’d appreciate it if you take the first shift tomorrow.”
He groaned and let his head drop to the ground.
Chapter 13
Sonya sat at the captain’s console, hoping Sebastian and Anya were alright. It had been several days since they’d left for Undewla.
Even though Aidan had found no definitive evidence that Marik might still live, no one was ready to assume the worst.
To Sonya’s surprise, Ethan hadn’t argued over having to work in the pub with no pay. In fact, he hadn’t even seemed angry. He did, however, continue to unnerve her with his frequent prying gaze.
When he had accused her of using her body to distract him, she had been so caught off guard that she had nearly stumbled to her ass. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but afterward she felt overly self-conscious of her every move.
Miserable tease, he had called her. The idea of it rummaged around in her brain, and she instinctively realized he enjoyed a little teasing.
She quelled the dangerous presumption.
Unfortunately, her body seemed to clasp on to the notion. Much of her time, lately, was spent in the training room.
She didn’t know what, but something was happening to her, something that was changing her to the core…. And it scared the hell out of her.
And now, with both her brothers and Marik gone, she had no one to confide in and no one to pummel but the training dummies.
She let out a har
sh sigh and stood. “Aidan, take command. Call me if anything happens.”
He offered a thumbs up in response and turned back to his console.
She headed to her room for a quick wash and wardrobe change. Then she surveyed her image in the mirror. The short black skirt rode high on her thighs. Her stocking were black and diamond woven. The purple satin corset, strung with black string down the front, followed the delicate curve of her waist and hips.
She raised her chin. Sure it was provocative, but she didn’t don these clothes to be a tease. One would need persistent male attention to be a tease.
She finished the ensemble with a dark choker around her neck, then made her way to The Demon’s Punchbowl.
She heard the blaring music long before she reached the entrance.
Her jaw dropped.
Center stage, surrounded by a crowd of hooting males, stood two busty females with Sonya’s good ale being poured down the fronts of their white blouses.
Her fingers balled into tight fists as she stomped her way to where Ethan was mixing a drink at the bar.
As he poured, he looked up with a grin. Noting her expression, his smile dropped. Then his gaze traveled her body, and another expression came over him. She froze mid-step. He’d given her that look before, and she’d easily disregarded it as nothing more than a means to irritate her. Now she recognized it for what it was: pure masculine interest.
But surely he wasn’t genuinely attracted to her. It must be that he had decided to retaliate for losing their wager by making her as uncomfortable as possible.
His eyes lowered to her bodice where, she had to admit, her cleavage was looking damn good. She stifled a sudden urge to jiggle her torso.
What was wrong with her?
Ethan struggled to school his features as Sonya approached. The damn female was dressed like his living fantasy!
“What do you think you’re doing?” Sonya’s outrage rode over the blaring music.
Long after her blushing act the night of their bet, Ethan had wondered if she was really so oblivious of effect on the males around her. That barely-there top and skimpy skirt was drawing attention away from the two lovely ladies on stage.