Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
23
Annika
“Annika!” Tyree’s roar echoes in the vacuous ship’s hull and heavy splashes sound behind me.
“I’m okay,” I call out as I stare at the corpse caught in the netting, my heart pounding. “I was just startled. I wasn’t expecting a body.”
He slows. “What kind of body?”
“A dead one,” I snap back, watching as Tyree fumbles blindly toward me. “Take two steps to your right or you’ll—”
He trips over the same hunk of wood I did and tumbles into the thigh-deep water.
“—fall.”
Pulling himself up with a grimace, he edges around the hazard. He is sopping wet, his tunic and pants clinging to every hard curve of his muscular body.
If only he weren’t such a lecher.
“Where are you?” His eyes search the dark.
“Over here. I knew my kind was far superior, but is your Ybarisan sight really that lacking?”
He grins as he veers toward the sound of my voice. “Just keep saying those sweet things and I’ll find you in no time.”
I roll my eyes, though he can’t see it. “There are two small wooden crates hanging within the netting, out of the water. They seem intact.”
“I was hoping for that.” He closes in on me, his hand fumbling through the air until it grazes my hip. Still, he moves closer until he’s standing inches from me.
So close I can pick the flecks of silver in his eyes as he searches the darkness, and the scent of neroli teases my senses.
Too close. I take a step back.
“And the body?” he asks, unbothered.
“A soldier, by the looks of it. But he’s long since dead. Nothing more than a skeleton now. It’s on your left.”
He waves his hand until his fingers catch the net. “Can you reach him through this?”
“Reach him? I am not touching him.”
He sighs with exasperation. “Fine. Guide me and I will.” He holds out a hand in front of him, palm up.
I stare at it. Aside from when I’ve fought Tyree off, I’ve happily avoided any contact with him until now. “What do you want with him, anyway?”
“His boots, if he wears any.”
“He does.” They appear to be fine leather. I grimace. “You would wear a corpse’s clothes?”
“And you would not, if given no other choice?”
I bite my retort. Atticus always did say I was too pretentious for my own good. Besides, I saw how Tyree was hobbling out there. The rocks must be punishing his socked feet.
With a heavy groan, I collect his wrist and guide it through a sizable hole. “I suppose this is better than carrying you.”
His deep chuckle curls inside my ear. “I would enjoy seeing you try.”
I ignore how close the move brings us together again, or the strong pulse I feel beneath my fingertips. “There.” I peel away from him.
“That wasn’t too awful, was it?” He slides his hand down the length of the skeleton’s boot, finding its heel. “If he’s old enough, this should come off …” His words drift as he tugs.
One of the crates in the netting shifts with the sudden jerk and an ominous crack fills the air above us.
Before I can shout a warning, Tyree pulls free of the netting and plows into me, tucking my head to shelter me in his arms. Every muscle in his body tenses as he braces for impact.
A rotted beam drops down, landing in the water with a heavy splash.
Silence surrounds us again. “Are you okay?” he asks after a beat.
My face is pressed against his chest. “I’m fine. I thought you couldn’t see me.” I’m surprised by not only how quickly he moved but how quickly he did so to protect me.
“I can’t. But it would seem that I’m acutely aware of you even in complete darkness.” He loosens his grip but doesn’t release me, his palm grasping the back of my head. The humor that normally laces his tone is absent.
This is far too close for me. I shove against him with my palms. The netting must have been anchored to that beam because the ends of it now lie open for easy picking.
“Your corpse is free for looting. Have fun.” I trudge through the water toward the daylight, suddenly needing air.
“That was certainly worth the trouble,” Tyree declares with renewed energy as he hops from one stone crop to the next. Is it the leather boots or the dull merth sword at his hip that excites him so? He heaved the netting with the cargo tangled inside and laid it out for pilfering. The crates proved disappointing—casks of stale spice and soured wine—but Tyree was thrilled as he slipped the sheathed weapon from the skeleton’s hip. Dislodging stiff bones from the boots was trickier, but he managed and slid them on with a boyish grin.
“Speak for yourself. There was nothing of value for me, and I’m drenched in seawater again.” Beads of sweat trickle down my neck as I struggle to follow, the terrain now a steady incline.