Page 63 of Realm of Thieves

“I don’t like this,” Toombs says. “And when I tell Kirney, he won’t like this either.”

He eyes Brynla with trepidation, and I know that he doesn’t trust her alone with me, not in the Dark City. But I have to trust her if I want to get any of this done. The whole reason we took this side trip to south Esland is to get Brynla’s aunt, a promise I wouldn’t dare break. There’s no use in worrying about it now.

Toombs pulls out chairs for Brynla and me and we sit down at the card table. I slow down with my drinking and wish Brynla would do the same, but maybe she needs to do this. She’s been through a lot and after everything she admitted, I know that much.

The boys seem to be in good spirits regardless. I’m starting to think that most of them were probably relieved to not have to go to the Dark City. Brynla may look fondly upon it, but it’s a place with a harsh reputation for a reason and one that would probably eat my crew alive.

The card game continues, with Brynla being roped in for some of it before she loses all the money she doesn’t have and has enough sense to bow out.

And the ship sails on.

The drinking continues.

The card games come to an end.

And eventually the crew disperses, leaving just Brynla and me sitting side by side at the empty table, our chairs pressed next to each other.

My hand on her thigh.

Her head on my shoulder.

Closer than we should be.

But I’m not moving an inch.

“Well, what do you think?” I ask her, my lips moving against the top of her head. “Time for bed?”

She giggles. She’s been giggling all night.

“Only if we’re sharing one,” she says in a breathy voice.

I gulp, my body stiffening at the totality of her words, the implications in her tone.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” I tell her, trying to keep things light. “Cabins are too small for those shenanigans.”

“The floor will do,” she says, tilting up her head to meet my eyes. “Even standing up.”

I bite my lip, hard. Fuck. I don’t think I’ll survive this.

“I think we’re both a little drunk,” I tell her.

She frowns, pouting slightly. “Don’t you want me?”

Is she seriously asking me this?

“What do you think?” I manage to say.

“I think you should kiss me,” she whispers, her inebriated gaze flicking over my features. “I think you should show me.”

I swallow the brick in my throat. “I think it would be ungentlemanly of me to take advantage of a rum-drunk woman.”

She smiles and it’s so fucking beautiful I can barely breathe. The carnality in her eyes, the playfulness of her lips. A side of her I’d only dreamed of late in the night, one I imagined over and over again.

“Who says I need a gentleman?” she says in a sultry tone. “Maybe I’m the kind of rum-drunk woman who appreciates an animal.”

My nostrils flare at that, hunger panging through me, my cock painfully hard and straining against the fly of my trousers. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Or what?” she asks, reaching up and lightly running her fingers over the half-healed cuts on my cheekbone. “What happens if I succeed? What will you do to me?”

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