Page 49 of A Reckless Indulgence

The baby howls.

“Silence!” Mollo screeches. The baby’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, but it doesn’t make another sound. Mollo’s necklace twinkles under her smug satisfaction.

“That’s how you want to spend your life?” Lyx can’t help herself. When she speaks, Mollo and Sinoe stare at her. Her voice is suddenly weak. “That’s what you imagine?”

“A never-ending feast?” Mollo cackles, digging a fingernail between her teeth to dislodge something fleshy and pink. “Of course. Even if your body is captive, your song can set you free. That’s our true power.”

A shadow passes over Lyx’s face. She tilts her head toward the surface of the water, watching ripples spread from the metal buoy.

“He must be awake now.” Mollo stretches on her side, staring dreamily toward the surface. “My latest plaything tied me to the bow of his ship for a week…so I brought him back and took his leg.”

Her grin widens, teeth flecked with chunks of skin and muscle. Overhead, there’s a muffled scream. The water churns faster, turning red into foamy pink.

Lyx’s mouth waters. Sinoe drifts toward the surface, forgetting everything but the wounded thrashing. Mollo snags her tail and jerks her back. “If I’m feeling generous, maybe I’ll let you have a taste.”

In the distance, a swarm of shadows appears. The other sirens are here, drawn by the promise of flesh and chaos. It is what they do, the one thing that draws them all in.

Mollo and Sinoe swim for the buoy, shoving and clawing each other as they fight toward the surface. Lyx starts to follow them, but an errant thought darts through her mind. The sirens will not be sated by one pirate. They will be ravenous, gluttonous, clamoring for another feast — and Sinoe knows exactly where to find one.

Lyx’s stomach turns as she sinks back toward the reef, her body heavy with chaos. Sirens swarm the buoy. It’s a mindless feeding frenzy, teeth gnashing as they devour their meal.

Her blood thrums. She has to get back to the grotto. She has to end this before the others catch Cav’s scent. She has to do what she should have done the second he landed here.

She swims as fast as her fins will carry her. Behind her, the screams grow to a fever pitch.

NINETEEN

Cav

Maybe Cav got ahead of himself. As much as he enjoyed the crow’s nest, it wasn’t enough. He was so eager to touch Lyx’s body again, but that’s all he touched. Nothing deeper.

The night spent throwing darts was different. Lyx seemed different. Slowly, she unfurled, speaking without so much halting resistance. She asked him questions. She told him things. It felt like they were getting back to where they’d been before, synching into a familiar rhythm.

But it didn’t last. When Lyx returned from wherever she’d been, there was a barbed look on her face. She wouldn’t tell him anything else. She still hasn’t.

Two days later, he lies in his hammock under the storm rolling overhead. It doesn’t give him much warning. Within seconds, a massive cloud opens up and dumps rain over the deck. Everyone scrambles, steering the boat through roughened waves or scurrying below deck for cover. By the time Cav disassembles his soggy hammock, he’s soaked to the bone. He splashes down the stairs, clothes steaming while his internal fire tries to warm him.

The ship groans and heaves. Cav braces against a wooden beam before he drapes his hammock over it to dry. All the cabin doors are shut tight, including his own. A strip of firelight flickers beneath it, taunting him from the end of the hall.

Fuck it. Lyx may want nothing to do with him, but at least he can get a fresh change of clothes. He wrings water from his shirt and moves down the corridor to knock at the door.

Lyx takes her time answering. He can see her shadow moving, but she’s silent when she opens the door with a sullen look. Her curls are piled atop her head, the sleeves of her dress slung low on her shoulders. Her clothing may be dry, but it clings to her as if it isn’t, hugging every curve of her body.

Cav tries not to stare. It takes a moment for him to remember why he’s here. “I hate to be a bother —”

“No, you don’t.”

He bites back a smile. “The deck is inhospitable tonight.” He gestures down his wet torso to the puddle forming at his feet. “May I come inside for some clothes?”

Her eyes narrow, but when the ship bucks, her fingers curl around the door frame. Her skin fades to almost white. It looks like she’ll be sick.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Water drips onto his lips. Her eyes flit to his mouth. For a moment, he wonders if she’ll slam the door in his face, but then the boat pitches. He skids across the ground, claws scraping the wall as he collides with her.

They stagger into the room, nearly knocking the lantern from its perch. He catches her around the waist, planting his feet to keep from sliding when the boat rocks back in the opposite direction. The door slams closed, and he lands against it, his back to the wood with her body held tight against his chest.

Their breaths are as scattered as his thoughts. Her face hovers before him, her palms pressed to his chest. They drift downward as if they’re separate from her mind, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, like it would tear open as easily as wet parchment…