Clutching the rails of the quarterdeck, I kept my eyes open as I stared at the choppy steel-blue waters of the Stroud Sea. It hadn’t been bad when the ship first left the shores of Atlantia and drifted seamlessly through the mist. The gentle swaying of the ship had been kind of a fun experience.
But then we’d cleared the mist, and all there was were the deep blue waters that stretched for as far as I could see. It looked as if the sea kissed the sky. I’d thought closing my eyes would help.
Nope.
That was much worse because without my eyes open to confirm that I was indeed standing straight and steady, I felt like I was falling.
What had Perry claimed not too long ago? That I would gain my sea legs in no time? I didn’t think that would happen at all. The small crew who worked the riggings of the masts made it all seem so easy.
“Please don’t vomit,” Kieran said.
I glanced over at him, my eyes narrowing. He’d joined me the moment Casteel had left my side to speak with Delano and Perry on the helm. “I cannot make that promise.”
He chuckled as he turned his face to the sky and the last of the sun. “Well, if you do, please aim for over the railing.”
“I’ll make sure I aim for your face,” I retorted.
That got another laugh from the wolven. My grip on the railing tightened as I turned back to the sea. “You know,” he started, “it might help if you stopped looking at the water.”
“I’ve tried that.” I forced a dry swallow. “It did not help.” “Then you need to be distracted,” he replied.
“And it’s a good thing I excel at the art of distraction,” Casteel said, striding up behind us. He reached around, peeling my death grip from the railing. “Come,” he said, leading me away as the breeze rippled across his loose white shirt and tossed about the waves of his hair.
“Have fun,” Kieran called out.
“Shut up,” I snapped, walking stiffly beside Casteel.
Perry and Delano waved at us as Casteel guided me to the stairs that led down into the cabins. It was dimly lit belowdecks, and I’d only been below for a short period of time earlier to try and eat something, but I had found the floors of the stately cabin we’d been given just as unsteady as the ones above.
Casteel opened the door, and I inched my way in. Everything was bolted down. The table and two chairs. The bare surface of a wide, wooden desk. The wardrobe. The wide bed in the center of the cabin. The clawfoot tub. The standing dressing mirror and vanity. Even the gas lamps were secured. He led me to the desk.
“Take a seat,” he said, and I started to sit in the chair in front of the desk, but he tsked softly under his breath. Letting go of my hand, he grasped my hips and lifted me onto the desk.
My heart gave a silly little tumble at the show of strength as he opened one of the cabin windows. I was neither small nor dainty, but he often made me feel that way. I watched him pick up one of the bags we’d brought with us and place it by the desk.
“You were about to take my seat.” He returned, taking the chair directly in front of me.
I raised an eyebrow as I gripped the edge of the desk, and he tapped my booted calf, motioning for me to lift my leg. “What are you up to?” I asked.
“Distracting you.” He tugged off the boot, letting it fall with a thump to the floor.
I watched him remove my other boot and then my thick socks. “I think I know what you’re up to, but not even that will distract me from the fact that everything feels like it’s swaying, and we could capsize at any second.”
His brows lifted as he looked up at me. “First off, you should have way more faith in my skills when it comes to distracting you,” he said, and I immediately thought of the night in the Blood Forest. My skin flushed. “And the boat capsizing is not what is going to happen next.”
“What is?” I asked as his palms slid up my legs.
“I’m going to do what I wanted to last evening and fuck you on this desk,” he told me, and muscles low in my stomach clenched.
“This isn’t a table.”
“It’ll work.” He gripped the waist of my breeches. “But first, I’m hungry.”
The breath I took caught. “Then you should retrieve something to eat.” “I have.”
My face caught fire.
Blazing, golden eyes locked with mine. “Lift your ass, my Queen.”
A giggle crept free. “That is a sentence that sounds wholly inappropriate.”
He grinned, and a hint of a dimple appeared. “I’m sorry. Let me rephrase that. Please lift your ass, my Queen.”
The ship rocked, jostling me. My ass did lift, and Casteel seized the opportunity. He pulled off my breeches, letting them join the boots on the floor. Cool air swirled around my legs, stirring the edges of my slip.
“You’re going to have to let go of the desk.” He curled his fingers around the hem of the long-sleeved shirt.
I forced my fingers to ease, and my stomach lurched as the ship rocked again. I started to grab the desk, but he was faster, pulling the shirt up and over my head. The moment my arms were free, I grabbed hold of the desk once more.
“Pretty,” he murmured, toying with the tiny strap on the slip and then the lace of the cinched bodice. His deft fingers loosened the buttons with shocking and impressive ease. The material parted, exposing my skin to the salty night air seeping in through the cabin window. He dragged his thumb over the rosy tip of one breast, causing me to gasp. “Not as pretty as these, though.”
My heart thudded, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to the ship’s motions or the intent in his words.
He eased the straps down my arms, stopping when they fell against my wrists. Then he stretched up, reaching around to pick up my braid. He pulled the leather thong from the end and slowly began to unwind the hair.
“I’m going to make you re-braid my hair,” I told him.
“I can do that.” He spread the lengths over my shoulders, then he caught the edge of the slip, pushing it up my hips to where the material gathered at my waist. Those callused palms swept down my legs once more as he leaned back. Gripping my ankles, he spread my legs and placed my feet so they dangled off the arms of the chair. I’d never been more exposed in my life.
He dragged a finger along his lower lip as his gaze swept over me. “I’ve never seen a more tantalizing dinner. It makes me want to rush to the main course.” His gaze lingered on the shadowy area between my thighs. “But I do love a good appetizer.”
Oh…gods.
Casteel looked up at me, a secretive little grin playing across his lips as his arousal washed over me, mixing with mine. “I almost forgot. The next best thing to a good conversation while enjoying dinner is reading a good book.”
My eyes widened as he bent, reaching into the bag. “You did not—” “Don’t move.” Casteel shot me a heated look, and I froze. He
withdrew the all-too-familiar leather-bound book. Straightening, he cracked it open. “Pick a page, my Queen.”
Was he going to read to me? “I…I don’t know. 238.”
“238, it is.” He found the page and then turned the book over to me. “Read to me. Please?”
I stared at him.
“It would be so very difficult for me to enjoy my dinner and read at the same time,” he coaxed, eyes glimmering. “Or is reading this out loud too scandalous for you?”
It was, but the challenge in his tone provoked me. Letting go of the desk, I snatched the damnable book from his hand. “You really want me to read this to you?”
“You have no idea how badly I want to hear you say words like cock.” His hands settled on my knees.
I glanced at the page, quickly searching for the word and found it. Damn it. Damn him, and—I gasped as his lips skated over the scar on my inner thigh.
“You’re not reading.” He kissed the rough skin. “Or are you that distracted already?”
I sort of was, but I forced myself to focus on the first line and immediately regretted it. “‘His…his manhood was thick and proud as he stroked it, enjoying the feeling of his own hand, but not as much as—’” I jerked as his lips danced over my very center.
“Keep reading,” he ordered, his words sending a dark and hot shiver through my core.
My gaze darted back to the page. “‘But not as much as I enjoyed watching him pleasure himself. He worked himself until the tip of his…’” My entire body trembled as his hot, wet tongue slipped over me. “‘Until the tip of his proud, his… his proud cock glistened.’”
A deep sound rumbled from him, causing my toes to curl. “I’m sure there’s more.” His tongue danced over my flesh. “What does he do with that proud, glistening cock of his, Poppy?”
Pulse pounding, I scanned the page. “He…” A breathy moan left me as he pierced the flesh there. “He eventually stops stroking himself.”
“And?”
The words didn’t make any sense for a moment. “And he pleasures her with it.”
“Don’t tell me.” He nipped at the skin, dragging a ragged sound from me. “Read it to me.”
“You are…wicked,” I told him.
“And also very curious to discover how he pleasures her,” he replied. “I may learn something.”
My laugh ended in another moan as he returned to his dinner. “‘He grasped my hips with those large hands of his and held me there, between him and the wall, as he slid into me. I tried to keep quiet, but no—’” I cried out as his mouth closed on the bundle of nerves, and he suckled deeply.
The scrape of his fang sent an intense bolt of pleasure through me. My legs attempted to close reflexively, but he caught an ankle, preventing it as he tugged on the skin there. Tension tightened and curled and throbbed—
His mouth left me. “Keep reading, Poppy.”
Struggling to breathe, I wasn’t sure if I could read, but I managed to find where I’d stopped. “‘But no one…fucked as passionately as a soldier on the eve of battle.’”
The chuckle that left Casteel was sensual and dark. “Keep going.” He flicked his tongue over the pulsing pinnacle. “And I’ll keep enjoying my appetizer.”
I blinked several times. “‘He took me…hard and furiously, and I knew I would bear the marks of such on the morrow, but I…’” My hips lifted as he worked a finger into me. He wasn’t slow. He didn’t need to be. I was as primed as I imagined Miss Willa had been. “‘I will wear those marks with more than fond memories. I will think of how his hips pounded against mine, how his…his cock stretched and filled me…’” As I read from the
indecent diary, Casteel enjoyed his appetizer with his fingers and his mouth, until I no longer knew what I read. Until I couldn’t make sense of the words, and the journal slipped from my grip, falling closed on the desk, and I shamelessly writhed against his mouth and hand. The release came all at once, rushing over me in stunning, crashing waves.
I was still trembling when he rose above me, tearing at his breeches. His…his cock was just as hard as the one I’d read about, just as proud and…glistening with a bead of liquid.
“Poppy?” he breathed as his lips danced over my jaw, down my throat. “Cas?”
The sound he made nearly sent me over the edge all over again. “I just want you to know one thing.” His mouth hovered over my wildly beating pulse before he eased me onto my back. He gripped my hips, tugging me to the edge of the desk. My feet slipped free of the arms of the chair. I curled my legs around his waist as his lips skated down my throat, over my chest, and to the aching tip of a breast. “I’m still in complete control.”
He thrust into me at the same moment his fangs pierced my skin. Twin bursts of fiery pain lanced my breast, stunning me for a brief second, and then my entire body spasmed at the deep, staggering pull of his mouth. He devoured, and he fucked, just as he’d said he wanted to. Heat flowed through my body, igniting a fire that couldn’t be controlled. He drank from me as his body moved in and out of me, and when he lifted his head from the tingling skin of my breast and bit into his wrist, I didn’t look away from the bright red liquid welling on his skin.
“Just in case you need it,” he rasped, lips smeared crimson with my blood, with his.
I didn’t think about it. Maybe later I would wonder why it felt so natural to sit up and close my mouth over the wound, and what that could signify for later, but I was beyond thinking.
I drew his blood into me, struck first by the citrus-in-the-snow scent and then the luscious, dark taste of him. My mouth and then throat tingled as he filled me, thick and warm. I drank as images of pine and snow-draped limbs flashed, and the feel of the cold snow against my skin surfaced. I knew he was thinking about us in the woods. I let myself fall into that memory, into the taste of him and the power that was his blood. I didn’t know how he moved us to the bed, but we were suddenly there, and his mouth was on mine, and our combined taste was in me. Casteel moved
slowly, tenderly, and this…this was different than what we had done on that desk. In this moment, I felt bonded to him. It was more than just sex, more than two bodies enjoying each other. It was us, living and loving one another.
 |
Casteel and I lay there, our skin cooling in the breeze coming in from the opening of the small cabin window as the ship gently rocked on the waters of the Stroud Sea. His chest was pressed to my back as he traced idle circles down my arm, and I toyed with his other hand. He’d shucked off his clothing at some point, and the soft fur of the blanket lay pooled at our feet. There would’ve been a time when I would’ve balked at the idea of being so exposed, but not with Casteel. Never with him.
“You’re worthy,” I said, just because I wanted him to know that. I lifted his hand, kissing the backs of his knuckles.
He pressed his lips to the back of my shoulder. “And you’re being sweet.”
“I’m being real,” I told him. His hand stilled on my arm, and he fell quiet. I looked over my shoulder at him. Several emotions rolled through him. The sweet and spicy flavor of what he felt for me, but also the tangy- bitterness of agony that stole my breath. “What?” I shifted onto my back, my gaze searching his. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing.” His throat worked on a swallow.
“Don’t.” I rose onto my elbow so we were face-to-face. “Don’t tell me nothing. I can feel that it is something.”
His lashes swept down, shielding his eyes, but I saw the dark shadows there. Ghosts. “Hiding one’s innermost feelings isn’t exactly easy around you.”
“I know. I would say I’m sorry.”
“But you’re not?” One side of his lips tipped up.
“Yes, and no. I don’t like to pry when I know it’s not wanted.” I spoke into the breath between our lips. “Talk to me, Cas.”
“Cas.” He shuddered, and then his lashes lifted. “Do you know why I love hearing you say that?” He swallowed again as he touched my cheek
with the tips of his fingers. A long moment passed. “When I was held by the Ascended, there were times I feared I would forget my name—forget who I was. I did, actually—when I was starved. When I was used. I was a thing. Not a person. Not even an animal. A thing.”
I bit down on the inside of my lip as my heart twisted. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t dare move or breathe too heavily. I didn’t want to do anything that would make him stop talking.
“Even after I was freed, I sometimes felt that way. That I was nothing more than this thing without a name or autonomy,” he admitted hoarsely. “It would just…creep up on me, and I’d have to remind myself that I wasn’t. Sometimes, that didn’t work, and it was always Kieran and Netta or Delano
—Naill, or even Emil—who would snap me out of it. As would my parents. They didn’t even know. None of them did, other than maybe Kieran.” His fingers trailed down my arm, to where my hand rested on his hip, above the brand of the Royal Crest. “It was just someone saying, ‘Cas.’ Or my mother calling me Hawke that reminded me I wasn’t a thing.”
Tears of pain and anger filled my eyes. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to launch myself from the ship and swim to the shore to find the Queen and King and kill them right now. But I held myself still.
“That I was a person,” he whispered. “That I wasn’t that thing in the cage or that thing that couldn’t control anything around me—not even what was done to me or how my body was used. Hearing them just say ‘Cas’ pulled me out of that hellscape.” His fingers slid all the way up my arm to cup my cheek. He tilted my head back. “When you call me Cas, it reminds me that I’m real.”
“Cas,” I whispered, blinking back tears. “Don’t,” he pleaded softly. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I want…” Gods, there was so much I wanted for him. I wanted him to never have experienced any of that, but I couldn’t undo the past. “I want you to know that you are always Cas. You were never a thing, and you aren’t one now.” I rose, easing him onto his back. The buttery light of the gas lamp flowed over the striking lines of his face. “You are Casteel Hawkethrone Da’Neer. A son. A brother. A friend. A husband.” I leaned over him, and there was no mistaking the deepening of the color of his eyes as his gaze dropped to my breasts. Clasping his cheek, I guided his gaze back to mine. “You are a King. My King. And you will always be my everything, but never will you be a thing.”
Casteel moved fast, pinning my back to the bed with the warm weight of his body. “I love you.”
And I showed him that I loved him, with my words, my lips, my hands, and then my body, over and over until the beautiful amber eyes were clear of any and all shadows.
 |
I had been…thoroughly and repeatedly distracted from the constant sway of the ship throughout the journey to Oak Ambler, but I hadn’t gained my sea legs by the time the sea gave way to land, and the burnt-red stone of Castle Redrock loomed over the city and the village just outside the Rise. The bright, late-morning sun shone overhead as Casteel and I made our way back into the cabin. It would be safer for us to move about during the day. We had arrived two days before we were expected, which meant that Vonetta and the group should be arriving at the same time, or perhaps a little earlier.
The goal was to blend in and go unnoticed. My scars would make that difficult, but thankfully, cooler temperatures meant donning a cloak with its hood up wouldn’t draw too much attention. I was wearing an old pair of breeches that Casteel had wrangled for me, ones worn at the knees. The clothing I’d acquired in Saion’s Cove would have been too fine for someone not Ascended or of a wealthy class.
And the wealthy in Solis did not walk the streets of any city. They rode in carriages, even if they were traveling a block. I donned a simple white shirt, one with loose sleeves fitted at the wrists. It was strangely…freeing that the white shirt didn’t affect me—that I’d barely even thought of it as I slipped the sleeveless bodice over the shirt, cinching it tightly at the waist and the breast with front-lace stays like many of the women of the working class in Solis were wont to do. I was securing the chest harness when I looked up to find Casteel staring at me.
He was dressed as he usually was, cutting a striking figure in black breeches and a long-sleeved tunic. Blending in was far easier for males. “What?”
His gaze swept over me, lingering on the curves of the bodice along my chest. “I like what you’re wearing,” he said. “A lot.”
Feeling my cheeks warm, I picked up a dagger and secured it to the chest harness, and then sheathed the wolven dagger at my thigh.
“Now I really like what you’re wearing.” He strode toward me. “You’re demented.”
“Only slightly.” He tossed my braid over my shoulder. Dipping his head, he kissed me and then straightened the bow on the stays of the bodice. “I cannot wait to untie these later.”
I smiled as a curling motion swept low in my stomach. The smile faded too quickly as my heart tripped over itself. Later isn’t guaranteed, whispered an annoying voice, and if that voice had a body that wasn’t mine, I’d punch it.
There would be a later.
We would make sure of that.
A knock sounded on the door just as Casteel finished strapping his swords to his sides.
Perry stepped inside, a cap in his hand. “We’re about to dock.”
“Perfect,” Casteel replied while tension crept into my muscles. “As soon as you offload the crates, I want you out of here and back to Atlantia.” “I can stay nearby.” Perry offered. “You can send a signal, and I can
come and take you all back to Atlantia.”
“That will be too much of a risk,” I told him. “And we’re already risking too many lives as it is.”
Casteel slid me a knowing half-grin. “That, and Poppy probably doesn’t want to spend four more days on a ship.”
I said nothing as I shot him a glare. He was also right.
Perry grinned at me. “It can take longer for some people to get used to travelling by sea.”
“I think some people are just not cut out for sailing,” I said. “And by some people, I mean me.”
He chuckled. A call came from above—a greeting. His gaze returned to us. “May I ask a favor of you two?”
“Anything,” Casteel said as he tossed the cloak to me.
Perry dragged his fingers around the rim of his cap. “Keep an eye on Delano for me,” he said, and I looked up at him as I started on the row of buttons across the chest of the cloak. “Sometimes, he’s a little too brave.”
“Delano will return to you,” Casteel said as he slipped on his cloak, and I nodded.
“Thank you.” He gave us a brief smile. “I will see you both up there.”
When he was gone, I turned to Casteel. “Are Perry and Delano together?”
“They have been.” He came over to me, tucking my braid under the back of my cloak before sliding a cap over my head. “On and off for the last couple of years, I think.”
I grinned, thinking of them at the helm, smiling and laughing at whatever the other said. “They’re cute together.”
“You’re cute.” Casteel tugged on the brim of my cap and then lifted the hood of the cloak so it draped over the hat. “Though I prefer to be able to see your face.” He tugged on his own cap, and somehow, the shadows it created along the lower half of his face made him appear all the more mysterious. Once his hood was in place, he said, “We got this.”
My heart lurched. “I know. We do.” “You’re ready, then?”
I knew he wasn’t just talking about leaving the ship. “I am ready to do whatever needs to be done.”
He nodded, and then we left the cabin, leaving our belongings behind. Perry and his crew would take what we’d brought with us, including that damn journal, back to Atlantia. The group that had traveled with Hisa carried extra supplies.
We climbed the stairs and made our way over to where Kieran and Delano stood by the crates. They and the crew were dressed similar to us, cloaks and caps shielding their faces. I looked over my shoulder to where ramps had been placed on the deck of the ship, connecting it to the pier. With a cap pulled low over his face, Perry spoke with someone dressed in black. They were guards from the Rise. Beyond them, the pier was a mass of controlled chaos. Men hurried from ships to the brick warehouses and wagons. Street vendors hocked food and other goods. My gaze swept up to the deep gray walls of the Rise, constructed of limestone and iron. Guards patrolled the wall, stood on the battlements, and were perched in their nests like birds of prey. I saw no black mantles, but there were…a lot of guards. More than one would expect to see at Oak Ambler on a normal day.
But today was not any other day.
The Blood Crown was within those walls.
