Page 18 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
Flay side-stepped and angled his body slightly, placing himself between her and Feral. She didn’t need the protection, but she loved him for that impulse.
“Has something happened?” Flay asked his brother. “Father can be volatile, but that was far worse than I expected. He usually doesn’t chastise me in front of strangers or my crew.” He nodded to Kestra and Graves.
“He has over-extended himself,” said Feral in a low tone. “And Mother’s gambling has gotten worse, which doesn’t help matters. You know they’ve always had an open marriage, but she’s been taking more than one man to bed lately—women too—and I do believe it’s beginning to aggravate him.”
Kestra’s eyes widened and her lips parted before she could stop herself from reacting. And of course Feral noticed.
“Do we have a virginal Meroan among us?” he purred. “Are we so very shocking, my dear?”
“Virginal?” Flay coughed a laugh. “Not by a league.”
Kestra’s cheeks heated, but she couldn’t blame Flay for bragging a little, not after the humiliation he’d just endured.
Feral cocked an eyebrow. “Happy to hear it, brother. Well, you should find lodging for yourself and your lady, then, since I don’t think you’ll be welcome at home tonight. I’ll work on Father, and when Mother hears you’ve returned, she’ll put in a word for you, too. We’ll get you back to your old rooms soon, never fear.”
“Not a concern of mine,” muttered Flay. He gave Feral a mocking salute. “Thank you for your intercession.”
“Delighted to help.”
“Only when it’s to your benefit. Though I’ll admit I haven’t figured out how my entry into this contest benefits you.” Flay narrowed his eyes at his brother.
“Something for you to stew over.” With another grin and a wink, Feral strode back to the office and swept inside.
“Well, he’s a wretch, but at least he tries to be charming, unlike your father.” Kestra rubbed her cheek where she could still feel the flushed heat of the slap.
Flay pressed his mouth to the place, then said quietly, “Feral seems better than my father, yes. But what’s really better, love—the shark that shows its teeth and lets you know it’s a threat, or the pretty fish who lures you close until you discover, too late, that its fins are toxic?”
“How poetic,” Kestra said. “Can we go now?”
“Yes! We are free for the time being. Jaza will have the unloading well in hand, and I need time to think before I tell him about this anyway. Graves, see to the filing of the manifest and the contest registration, please.”
“Of course, Captain.” Graves melted away into the shadows of a side corridor, and Flay led Kestra through the maze-like building and back into the sunshine.
They both sucked in deep breaths as they stepped outside, and the joint inhale was so perfectly timed they looked at each other and laughed.
But Flay’s laugh vanished quickly, his face sobering as they walked slowly across the sunny plaza.
“I can’t apologize enough, Blossom,” he said. “I never thought my father would take my ship, or threaten you. I thought I might get a beating, maybe lose my profit from the voyage or be forced into running a slave route—I never imagined him striking you or suggesting you be sold. I couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry. I should have left you on the island like you wanted—you were right, of course. I was selfish, foolish—”
“Stop.” Kestra turned to him and pressed both hands to his face. “Stop, Flay. I agreed to this. You warned me there might be danger.” She paused, her brow furrowing. “You expected him to beat you?”
“You’ve seen my scars.”
She’d seen them. They crisscrossed the backs of his legs and his rear. “But those are from your childhood. You’re an adult now, a captain.”
Flay glanced up at the windows of the shipping office.
“Can he see us from up there?” Kestra whispered, letting her hands fall from Flay’s cheeks.
“He can. Let’s go.”
They crossed the square quickly and hurried down a side street.
“This will take us to the market district. Such fun to be had there! I’ll show you the sights.” Flay’s tone had a sharp, forced brightness that made Kestra’s stomach twist.
She darted in front of him again, halted him with a hand to his chest. Her fingers sank between the crisp ruffles of his shirt, pressing against his bare skin. The hectic beat of his heart thumped against her palm, and his chest swelled with quick, shallow breaths.
Kestra looked up at him, noting the grit of his teeth under the soft lips she loved so much. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. The sun filtered through his lowered lashes, making fringed shadows across his cheekbones.
