Page 75 of The Pirate Queen of Ruin
“Is he forcing you to be here?” I ask, shoulders tensing, ready to pounce. If I am going to fight this low-down monster, I am going to make sure every grain of sand inside of him is ruined. There will be no more boogeyman.
“Oh no, I told Augustine we should go because I’m nosy.”
“Mon abeille, the sea witch is concerned I am keeping you as some sort of prisoner,” Augustine explains. “Because of the nature of our relationship.”
Her eyebrows furrow for a moment, like she doesn’t understand either of us any more. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something but quickly closes it. I can see the wheels in her head turning and she doesn’t look at Augustine. She stares at me seriously and my teeth grit together. The plan is already there in my head. I’m going to shove this Roman bastard behind the bar and stab his chest until I find his heart.
It is only by the grace of my Love that nothing happens.
“Let me guess,” Delphini says. “Life or death situation?”
“Yes,” the woman blushes. “But I had a crush on Augustine for months beforehand, and, and-.”
“Eh, same sitch.” She smiles and holds out her hand. “Delphini Moore, new member of the secret club.”
“We are not the same,” I start, but my wife turns to me, and I see the flash of milky white cover her irises. A blink clears it away, yet the warning from Love is crystal.
“How would you know about our situation?” Augustine asks.
“Apparently, werewolves have excellent hearing,” she answers. “And our mutual friend, Marcus, tells me your partition is paper thin.” Joanna’s cheeks explode with a deeper blush that goes down to the subtle neckline of her dress. What the fuck are they going on about?
“Auggie, rule number one.” Teddy squeezes into our tight circle, making sure to stay clear of me. “Never dally with a werewolf around.”
Augustine pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something about letting dogs lie with their books, but I am distracted by Delphini. Her eyes scan the room. Her stance is sprung as tight as mine was a few moments ago. Gone is the easygoing, playful act to diffuse the tension. A frown graces her lips and I do my best to see over the crowd of people to where she is peering. The conversation around us moves forward, but it takes several more moments for her to relax again.
“Thought I saw him,” she murmurs.
I grab hold of her hand to bring her attention back. It takes a moment for her gaze to stop scanning the room, but when she does look at me again, I can see the anger on her features. The centre of her brows is pinched together and that frown on her face puckers like she’d rather be spitting on Miles’ grave than be at this party.
“Then let’s hunt them down,” I say.
Without a proper course, I guide us away from the group. There will be time to sort out Augustine later. The unease from earlier is rising in my gut again. Fucking Pat Lovette’s threat is right there in my ear, taunting me as we search for our prey. This has to go well; she has to succeed. Nothing will prevent myomphalosfrom enacting her final revenge on the scumbags that hurt her.
Charlotte suddenly raises her hand and signals from across the room, leading us to look at the back of a man I don’t know. But Delphini does. She comes to a halt in the back of the room, and power surges within her. A phantom tentacle from Love wraps itself around our joined hands and it’s the only thing that keeps her from bolting across the room. I tighten my grip and use my other hand to grab her nape.
Pink braids curtain around us, blocking our view, and my lips trace her jaw until I can whisper in her ear.
“Breathe for us, wife. His hours are limited. Your time will come by night’s end.” My breath shudders as more of Love’s tentacles wrap around us, their weight pressing us together until my back arches and my front is pressed into Delphini. Our lover’s embrace is a perfect distraction, a grounding sensation that sets my skin ablaze.
“He needs to suffer.” Her whisper is harsh as her fingers dig into my hips.
“And he will,” I promise.
She inhales deeply, her forehead relaxing against mine as the auctioneer calls the crowd to attention. Chairs creaking and the shuffling of clothes is a muted background noise as we breathe each other in. Love’s tentacles slowly recede as her power draws back. The first lot goes by quickly, numbers are shouted out quickly and then some vase is sold for ten grand.
“Next, we have a first edition set ofJane Eyreby Charlotte Brontë. They are in immaculate condition and do not contain the notice from theCalcutta Review. The starting bid is sixty.”
Delphini perks up at the title, but the rise in her spirits doesn’t last. On stage standing next to a small cart with a glass cloche over the top is the second man of the hour. Darren Gross. I cross my arms over my chest, letting my lower hand reach into my jacket to hold the small handle of my dagger. His tattooed hands are folding in front of him and his legs spread enough to intimidate, but it has nothing on myomphalos.
She rises to her full height and stares at the man. I can see when their eyes meet, how his throat contracts as he swallows. There is a sunglasses tan around his eyes that brightens further as his cheeks turn red. He doesn’t move an inch from his position. My eyes shift to my human. Delphini twirls one of her braids innocently, before slowly bringing it to her throat. My skin grows hot when she slices it across her neck.
As a sinister grins spread across her face, my tongue suckles at the front of my teeth. Beneath the surface of my skin, my tentacles writhe and bubble up. I want to trace that line of her throat, want to kiss, and lick, and protect it from any possible damage. A blush rises in my cheeks as my clit pulses.
Augustine and Marcus Astor are in a bidding war for the set of books.
“Do I hear one hundred and ten?” the auctioneer calls out. “Going once…”
“One fifty.” I raise my hand, and a few heads turn towards me.
