Page 26 of A Reckless Indulgence

Not to mention she’s parched, and not just from the heat. It’s been days since she’s been this close to her song; the shell in Tidus’s chest glows like it’s straining to reach her. Being near it is enough to loosen the knot in her chest, but that relief is forgotten as soon as Tidus touches her wrist.

“You look faded.” He runs his jagged thumb over her skin and digs his fingernail under a loose scale. “Don’t they feed you on that boat?”

She jerks away. It’s not food he means. Given the Indulgence’s area of expertise, she expected far more disorder, but the ship runs like a well-oiled machine. Racy sounds pitch through the walls, but nothing juicy. When there’s a disagreement, it’s only mild bickering. Where’s the cheating? The threats? The brawling? Without them, Lyx’s coloring has faded and dulled.

That was never an issue on Tidus’s ship.

“Didn’t Heathen put you to work in her whore ship?” Tidus toys with the slit in Lyx’s long skirt and pulls her down into his lap. “How many customers have had the pleasure of siren pussy?”

It sounds like the idea thrills him, but she knows better. He only likes the thought of tormenting her; he hates the idea of “sharing.” If she confessed to providing her services, Tidus’s entire demeanor would change. “I’m not servicing customers. I’m working with Cavalier.”

Tidus’s brow quirks unremarkably.

Her jaw clicks. Three days, and he still can’t remember Cav’s name. “Your chatty dragon.”

Tidus tips back his head and laughs. “That’s what Heathen wanted you for? To keep her cabin boy’s dick wet?”

“He’s not —” Lyx blows out a breath. Why bother explaining intricacies when Tidus clearly doesn’t care? “No. Heathen’s collecting something else from me.”

Tidus skims his palm up her thigh. “I’m not giving you any money.”

“It’s not money. It’s pleasure.”

“Pleasure?” His lip curls. He gropes the meat of her hip. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” Great Abyss, these constant questions are getting to her. Even in the shade, her skin is dry and tight, made more stifling by Tidus’s insistent touching. Her blouse slips off her shoulders. A fly buzzes near her ear, and she swats it away.

Tidus grabs her chin. “Answer me.” His grip tightens to bruising. “Is Heathen fucking you? Is that what it is?”

“No!” she splutters, fighting his grip. “Depths, what is your obsession with her?” She can’t escape Tidus’s hold, but she needs to temper both their fury. Fingers flexing, she snatches the tankard from his hand. She’d like to slam it into the side of his head, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop him. She lifts the mug to her nose and gags at the heavy scent. Of course it’s ale. It’s the only drink he keeps on his boat, despite how much she hates it. It doesn’t matter; her throat is aching. With a grim look, she drains the cup and tosses the tankard to the ground.

Tidus’s eyes flash. He releases his hold on her face, but when she wrenches away, he jerks her back by her bodice instead. His gnarled fingernails tear through the fabric, his ale-stained breath hot on her face. “That’s not an answer.”

The laces constrict her lungs. “What do you want?” Her mind is a rabid creature, searching for whatever words will make him stop. “I don’t know how they collect pleasure! When I got onboard, Heathen took some of my scales for the contract. I don’t know what happens after that.”

The bodice crushes her ribcage. His nails dig into her skin. He doesn’t release her. Not until she gets a good look at the warning in his eyes – then, he shoves her away. “Get back to the ship, then. Find out how the fuck she’s doing it.”

Her sudden breath and chaos leave her head spinning. This sudden feeding is enough to make her sick, but she swallows down the urge to vomit. No matter how she suffers, Tidus’s unpredictability always gives her what she needs. A brilliant purple color seeps across her legs, but Tidus doesn’t look at her when she leaves.

By the time she reaches the port, it’s late. The sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving the Indulgence’s lanterns shining like beacons. The deck of the ship jostles with a party in full swing. On the docks, a crowd has gathered, craning their necks while they wait for their turn to board.

No one is looking for Lyx. Her brows lift in surprise. She’d expected Captain Heathen to go back on their word and advertise the prized siren, but instead, only a few customers glance at her as she elbows her way up the gangplank.

Crew members wait at the top, collecting coins or holding out glass jars. The guests pluck their eyelashes or feathers and drop them inside. Lyx needs to see where those jars go. With a grunt, she squeezes onto the ship and follows a tray of full jars across the deck — until a tattooed arm blocks her way.

Cypher glares down at her, the bird on her shoulder tilting its head in indictment. “Where have you been?”

Lyx lifts on her toes, but the jars are already disappearing below deck. With a hiss, she shoves Cypher’s arm away.

Cypher’s jaw ticks above her black neckerchief. For fuck’s sake, it’s hot enough already; is that why she’s so pissy? “Sunset was the cutoff,” Cypher emphasizes. “You’re late.”

“And I’m here now.” If Cypher won’t budge, neither will Lyx. She plants her feet, glaring up at Cypher until the woman presses her mouth into a thin line. Cypher’s not going do shit, even if she wants to. That’s a flaw Lyx can work with.

Smugly, Lyx turns toward the hatchway to make her way below deck.

“Has Cav collected your pleasure payment?”

Lyx’s eye twitches. She keeps her back turned when she responds, “Yes.”