Page 167 of Rattle the Cage

I nodded, stepping to the edge of the plank while Blade carefully tucked away the small tools into a metal box. Then, swinging a leg over the plank, she scooted closer to the ship, holding the cross pendant out toward me.

“Okay, I’m not going to bore you with all the inner workings of it, but here’s all the magic: the mic’s housed in the base of the cross, and the camera lens will sit right by JC’s head.”

Mounted into the back casing, the lens was the size of a small pea. The dimensions of all the machinery were impressive, until you put them into the scale of the tiny little necklace. “Won’t he be able to see that?”

“Not once it’s all together,” she shifted her hands, delicately holding the front and back pieces of the crucifix together. “I’m going to weld and sand it to hide the join, but once it’s all together it’ll look more like this.

And as she held it out to me, I could see the vision. The crucifix was much more elaborate than the simple gold ones I’d seen. Jesus looked just the same as usual, but the cross he hung from was almost baroque in nature.

Heavy silver curlicues embellished every edge, nearly doubling the size of the cross. The halo around his head was also oversized. A Latin inscription ran around the edge of the halo, which was filled in with small, black gemstones. The camera lens blended right in.

“Fuck…” I muttered, gazing down at the necklace in her hand.

“Perfect, right?” she winked before putting it away in her toolbox and shoving it back onto the ship. “Don’t act so surprised though, Trinket. You already know I’m good with my hands.”

I rolled my eyes, though she wasn’t wrong. The crucifix was incredibly impressive — and so was everything else she could do with her fingers.

Tossing her headlamp into the water below, Blade patted her lap. “I’m ready for a break. Come tell me what a good job I did?”

I shouldn’t have humored her reckless behavior. But the truth was, I could use a reward too. Between my Cyrus-induced confusion and the impending mission, keeping my head on straight was a feat worthy of celebration.

I shook my head and pointed to my feet. “I’m not stepping onto that plank. You’re welcome to come here, though.”

Without missing a beat, Blade slid onto her hands and knees, crawling across the plank toward me. Her shoulders shifted lithely beneath the cotton of her t-shirt: she looked like a panther on the prowl.

Once she reached the base of the plank, she started to kiss my ankles and then my calves before letting her hand roam up my legs.

I swatted her hand away, taking a step back and pointing to my mouth. “My lips are here.”

She was on her feet in a second — on me almost as fast. I took a step back, intending to make her work for it. But a loose plank sent me stumbling back.

Before I could fall, Blade’s strong hands steadied my waist. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning, Trinket.”

“All morning?” I murmured back. Just an hour ago, I’d been this close to Cyrus, seconds away from kissing her. And now, all of that unreleased energy needed somewhere to go.

Blade was enticing in a different way entirely: where Cyrus was stoic, Blade was a force of nature. Wild with energy and unrelenting in the pursuit of what she wanted. And excitingly, what she wanted seemed very, very clear to me.

Her hand lifted to the nape of my neck, where she tugged the dip-dyed ends of my hair. “I’ve been thinking about those pretty little lips of yours. How soft they are…”

Her right thumb caressed my cheekbone as her hand drew my face closer to hers. The inches between us quickly turned to centimeters, and then to nothing at all.

Butterflies beat against my ribs as she pressed her lips to mine. As soft as she thought my lips were, hers were heaven; their plush fullness was perfectly contrasted by the coolness of her metal piercings.

As I pressed closer to her, I could feel friction between her legs: there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she was packing. And quickly, our delicate kiss shifted into something more feral.

I pressed my tongue to her lips, moaning as they parted for me. Her kiss was warm and furtive. She pushed against me at a perfect cadence.

Gripping her shoulder, I was desperate to get closer to her. A sudden rock of the boat quickly turned that grip from a gesture of lust to pure panic.

It wasn’t just a sway — it was a full on lurch that sent prop crates and barrels sliding across the deck. It nearly sent me into the railing. It was as if the boat had taken on a life of its own.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that we had company.

“Don’t mind me,” Nash smirked, leaning down from the captain’s quarters. “Just thought I’d add some motion to the ocean.”

As the boat lurched back in the opposite direction as before, I realized that there must be a control room up there. Nash had turned on the motor that rocked the boat along its underwater track.

With a cocky pirate’s swagger, Nash grabbed a hold of a nearby rope and swung down to join us. But before she could get close, I barked out a command. “Stay.”