The door shuts with a click, and the whispers and chords of the orchestra are muted. It’s shadowed here, but it’s not safe yet. Very likely servants and waiters will be in and out. I pull her farther down the hall. Chattering and dish clinking grows louder. I turn down a hall in the opposite direction, avoiding the sounds.
I find a set of stairs and pull Whitley silently after me until we reach what I assume are the servant quarters. I pull open a door and find a small closed-off room. There are two small beds with scraggly brown covers and no windows.
I shut the door behind us, allowing myself a moment to catch my breath, finally.
Pressing my head against the thin wooden door, I breathe in and out. Close, so close. I need her to trust me, believe me. When I turn, she’s leaning back on the bed, eyes wild, beckoning me. That red dress doing all kinds of justice to her body.
Shit am I in trouble. Her blond hair flows over her bare shoulder. She smiles at me like she knows I can’t resist.
I approach her, trying to so hard not to give in, not to succumb fully. I am pulled to her, like that string pulling from my stomach, only now there are a million strings, from every centimeter of my body.
She’s right, I can’t resist.
She begins to pull at the cords decorating the top of her dress. They don’t go far, but far enough.
I lean over her, slow descending towards her body.
I kiss her newly exposed skin as the dress parts, inch by inch. Slowly, gently. Lips just a caress. She leans her head back and moans, deep and desperate.
I look up at her and swallow. Control it, Bluff, I tell myself. This might be your last time ever having her, ever touching her, if you screw this up.
I run my hand up over her dress, over her stomach to up between her breasts and then up to her neck. “Whitley,” I whisper. She lifts her head to meet my gaze, desire like a fire within them. “Do you know my name?” I ask.
Her eyebrows knit together, the fire dimming. “Nalin?” she says like a question. That’s the name I’ve given her. It’s my real name, my birth name. “What about my other name?”
She bites her lip. “I don’t know.”
“Think,” I plead with her. “You know it, you must.”
She closes her eyes, pressing them tightly together. Then she opens them with a pained expression that kills me. “Bluff?” she whispers.
“Yes,” I whisper joyfully then I kiss her. I don’t know what she remembers, if anything, but there’s something inside of her. Whitley is still there.
I drop down, pressing my chest to hers, my hips against hers. Her kiss is feral, desperate. Her kiss is siren, I pull back gasping for air.
“I thought you wanted me?” she asks angrily.
“I do. But there’s something else I want more.”
Whitley
So many emotions I can’t control storm through my body. Annoyance is at the forefront right now.
His eyes devour me. His mouth thirsts for me. I can feel it in every muscle, every movement, every breath.
Yet he pulled away. Much like when he stopped singing, my whole body aches, mourning the absence of his touch.
“What does that even mean?”
He takes in a big breath. “It means you’re in there, but the magic is taking over.”
I clench my jaw, knowing he’s right. Is that the reason my memories are missing?
“I want to give you your every desire, every thought in your mind, every fantasy,” he whispers in my ear. “I would love to make you moan my name for the next hour straight.” He’s breathless, and so am I.
I grip his shirt—why is he still wearing a shirt, dammit?
“But more than that—I want you to remember me.” He clenches his jaw. “So I must stop.”
I raise my eyebrows. “So if I remember, if the memories come back?”
“I’ll do anything you want me to.”
I bite my lip, wanting it. So badly. But also wanting to know who I am, wanting those missing pieces.
“How? How do I get them back?”
“I don’t know,” he whispers.
I raise my eyebrows. “Then how do you know this won’t help?” I give him a crooked smile, which he returns.
“Because it’s giving in to your siren nature. I need your human one.”
“What’s so important about the human in me?” I ask honestly. “What can she give you that I can’t? Or is there something in those memories you need?”
“I just want the girl I fell in love with back.”
I freeze, searching his face, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. Instead he gently lifts the pieces of my dress that hang limp.
A rush of panic fills me. He loves me? Did I love him too?
Bluff. My mind whispers to me. There’s longing in it, but that’s my only clue.
What do you know? I ask, deep within the depths of my own soul.
No answer. I press my eyes closed and lean back on the bed as he tightens the strings of my dress, pulling the pieces back together. When he’s finished, I lift my aching body, limbs trembling. He finally looks at me, and the vulnerability in his expression digs deep, clawing at my heart.
Everything aches. My body, my head, my heart.
“Bluff,” I whisper, much like the whispered thought. His eyes lighten, hope filling him.
An image pops into my mind, much like the last time, vague and disconnected only this time there are words. One phrase, coming from the lips of his angry face. But before I can even react to the sudden memory, the door to our stolen sanctuary smashes open, exposing a man who makes my skin crawl.
Mr. Robinson.
Bluff
I jump as the door slams open. Whitley hisses. I promised I’d help her kill Mr. Robinson, and now would be the perfect time.
I reach for the blade in my boot—even dressed as a rich bachelor in high society New York, I always bring a weapon. But that’s when I realize he’s not alone.
“Grab them.”
Three large men in uniform rush into the room, grabbing at both of us. I fight back, slamming my fist in the first man’s face. Whitley fights too, fangs out, clawing and ripping at whatever skin she can reach. There is blood and groans of pain, but then more men join and my limbs are pinned. I turn and find Whitley too is overcome. She doesn’t admit defeat though. She continues to violently whip her head and body around, trying to get free.
They pull us out of the room, dragging us through the dark halls of the house. Whitley growls and screams, but I’m calm, reserving my energy for when I’ll need it. When they’re not ready for it. Two men carry her, necessary because of her refusal to submit. One holds her arms, one her legs, which are kicking and twisting as they go. Only one man holds me, bear hugging my arms down.
We wind down another set of stairs. I use the momentum and wait until we’re close enough to the wall, then twist, pushing my feet up against the stone and shoving back.
The man holding me loses his balance and tumbles down. I grab the knife in my boot and attack, stabbing the first in the neck. The man leading the way turns to fight, his arms bigger than my head. He swings and I duck, slamming my body into his chest pushing him back down the stairs.
I hop up to my feet, but then something hard slams against my head and my vision immediately goes black.
Whitley
I can only watch as Mr. Robinson pulls back a flat board and slams it over Bluff’s head with a sickening crack. I wince, but then watch as his body falls lifeless to the floor.
Something in me breaks, as I watch his limp body collapse. I scream again, this time in panic and fear rather than rage. A new power fills me now, bubbling from a deeper place than my siren magic.
My body and soul still as a quiet rage takes over.
A soft tickle of wind blows over my skin, even though we’re still inside the dark hall.
I let the power fill me for one quick moment—then I act. I whip my body around, twisting until the man at my feet can’t hold on, th
en I rip my arms away from the other. This time pulling away is easy. In smooth motions, I send my claws into his chest. Blood splatters everywhere. I glance down at my red dress—no stains this time. I smirk as I turn to the next man. His eyes are massive as he realizes he won’t take even one more breath before death takes him. My hand grips his throat, and I rip it from his body.
I savor his panic. Tasting it.
Then I turn to Mr. Robinson, who eyes me curiously, still holding the wooden board.
“At first, I thought you just a harlot, my little Whitley,” he smirks. “Now I see why they want you so badly.”
I narrow my eyes.
“You don’t even know the power you hold, do you?”
I tilt my head.
“I’d heard rumors of the girl who could control the wind and lightning. Destroy entire ships. Then when they came asking for you, I had no qualms turning over the girl who was supposed to be my bride.”
Why did they come to him? Who is he?
“I wouldn’t have believed it if they told me you—Whitley Davies, daughter of the most pathetic man I’ve ever met—was the girl with power unlike anyone before her.”
He smiles.
I clench my jaw, having no idea what power he’s talking about, but just the mention of me being his bride boils my blood.
“I suppose it was you who killed my men in the willows warehouse?”
My stomach drops. His men?
“But that’s a worthwhile cost to pay.” He nods absently.
My mouth falls open. I wanted to find the untouchable men at the top of the mob hierarchy. I clench my fists. It appears I found him.
“I’m going to kill you,” I hiss.
“The only thing standing in the way of using that power for greatness is him.” He nods towards Bluff’s unconscious body.
“Don’t you dare touch him.”
“You don’t really think he wants you for you, do you? Once you’ve tasted that kind of power... it’s so tempting. You shouldn’t blame him, really.”
I clench my jaw. Bluff begins to stir with a groan.
“He wants the power just like everyone else,” he tells me.
I look down at Bluff as his back slowly rises. Is that true? Is that the real reason he kept pulling back, because he wanted something else from me? He wanted my memories, that much was clear. But the only memory that came was him calling me a monster.
I blink rapidly. I don’t want it to be true, but—
“Whitley,” Bluff mutters with a frail voice. I wince.
The memory that hit the moment before Mr. Robinson barged in—Bluff looked at me with such disgust. So much hate.
You’re a monster, he’d said.
My stomach clenches, my heart thuds. I thought... I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t have that stranger an hour ago, and I don’t need him now.
Though that doesn’t stop the stab in my heart from throbbing.
“Come with me, and I won’t hand you over into those pesky pirates.” Mr. Robinson holds out his hand. “I won’t pretend to want you for any other reason than your power. You can trust me.”
Footsteps pound on the stairs as more men approach. My chest contracts, making it so hard to breath. Bluff looks up, his silver locks falling into his desperate, pained eyes. They plead with me, help.
I’m frozen for a moment. Do I help him and risk capture again? Being turned over to pirates who want to control me? Or do I flee now when I know I can get away?
Monster, I whisper in my mind, remembering the word he called me.
I stop breathing as I make my choice. Even as I turn my back to him, I don’t know it’s the right one.
I run.
Bluff
I can’t breathe as I watch Whitley run away. My heart and soul are crushed in that moment.
Mr. Robinson chuckles from behind me. “Well that was amusing.”
His men arrive and run past both of us, chasing after Whitley. I don’t even know if she’ll escape. Is there an easy way out down here? Will she get lost or trapped? I hope she gets free, even if she didn’t want me to come with her.
Footsteps echo as Mr. Robinson approaches me. I could force my body off of my knees and to my feet now, but what’s the point? Why even try?
I slam my palm onto the floor in frustration, just as he places his boot on my back and shoves me the rest of the way down. I grunt and allow my body to fall.
“I do hope they manage to grab her. You’ll be rather worthless on your own.”
He squats down beside me, leaning over. I consider reaching up and choking him right here and now.
“Not even worth a ransom like Stede suggested. The girl doesn’t even know who you are, let alone care.”
I wince, the breath pulled out of me once again.
He stands and orders some other guard I hadn’t seen to grab me. I don’t fight him as he drags me the rest of the way to the container room. It’s cold and dank, walls dripping with a slimy looking liquid. The guard shoves me to the ground, then places a shackle on my ankle.
I force myself to take long slow breaths, even though each one hurts. Then I look around, eyeing several sets of similar shackles built into the walls. Whoever this high-society socialite is, he’s not unaccustomed to keeping prisoners, I realize.
I think about what the river pirates said about him, how he beats all of his servants. Is that who he usually keeps here? I wrinkle my nose at the thought.
What an awful man. Yet he’s praised by this society, just for being rich. Sickening.
I lean my head back against the cold stone and listen to the shuffling of feet in the hall, followed by the squeal of hinges as the door swings open. I look up quickly to see three guards, each with several bloody cuts. My stomach sinks when I notice the limp body of a blonde girl in crimson red dress in their arms.
Whitley
My head throbs, my limbs are shivering and cold.
Brain fuzzy, I try to blink back the haze, but every movement hurts. I groan.
“Whitley?” someone says.
I look up to see the silver-haired stranger—Bluff—watching me from several feet away. Something tugs on my foot as I adjust. That’s when I realize my ankle is shackled to the wall.
“What in the world?” I mumble.
“Mr. Robinson was surprisingly prepared for prisoners.”
I pull at the metal strapped to my ankle. It digs into my skin, the sharp edges stinging. Fruitless pain, but I had to at least try.
“Are you all right?” he asks me in a near whisper.
My stomach twists, remembering the way I’d left him. Well, if he didn’t hate me before, he surely does now.
I shrug. “Are you?”
He nods, but doesn’t meet my eye.
I survey the room. There are several sets of shackles attached to the concrete walls. Bluff and I are connected to the same wall, but we’re too far to reach. Not that it matters—I doubt he’d have any interest in me after I abandoned him.
Whether he really loved me or not.
You’re a monster. I wince at the thought.
“What will happen now?” I ask, assuming he doesn’t know much more than I do, but wanting to break this awkward silence.
He takes in a long breath and leans his head back on the stone wall, looking up at the ceiling. “I suspect Mr. Robinson will be contacting the exact people we don’t want to find us. We’re just waiting for the inevitable.”
“How long?”
“Could be hours. Could be days. Depends on Mr. Robinson, I suppose.”
“At first,” I say slowly, “he’d intended to sell me back to someone named Stede, but after I used some of my power... he seems intent to keep me for himself.” I shiver.
Bluff nods slowly, his head still hanging between his shoulders. “That might delay his decision.”
“They’re all after me,” I say, working through everything I’ve learned in the last hour. If Mr. Robinson was telling the truth, it’s my
power they desire. I’m not even sure where Bluff fits into this.
“You’re who they most want, yes.”
“But they want you too?”
“They want us together. I’m worthless alone.” He winces as he says the last word and pauses. Why does that cause him such pain, I wonder?”
“But I’m not?”
He shakes his head. “This power is between the both of us. But if they get only you... well they know I’ll come for you.”
I blink, stomach twisting. He’ll come for me?
“Will you?” I whisper. I’m a monster now, he’s not even wrong about that. And I betrayed him. Left him to die. Ran to save myself—and didn’t even succeed. Why would he ever come for me again?
“Yes,” he whispers in response. “It’ll be my death, but I’ll still come.”
Tears sting my eyes. My heart aches. I don’t even know what to think about all of this. Is it true that he really loved me? Is it true he thinks I’m a monster? Is it true he wants me for my power?
Could all of them be true at once?
There’s so much I don’t know. So many pieces still missing.
I squeeze my hands, dried blood crusted over every finger. I can’t trust him, I decide. But even though my mind is made up—it’s the only logical conclusion I could possibly come to—my heart still aches. I hate the sadness in his eyes.
I hate that I caused it.
“Is there a way to escape, do you think?” I ask him after several long moments of silence, in part to press him. To uncover whether he’s given up.
“There’s always a way. But it must wait until morning.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not capable of much of anything tonight.” He shifts, scooting into a laying position, his back to me.
“Very well,” I say softly. “Good night.”
He doesn’t respond.
Bound by the Depths Page 15