“That drink looks awfully low.”
I turned toward the warrior leaning against the pillar opposite mine, his arms crossed and a bottle dangling between his fingers. Seawatcher, based on the coral and aqua gems adorning his ears. A symbol of rank among the ocean-farers.
Three of them lined one ear, poking out from beneath his hair, sun-bleached highlights gleaming against the dark strands falling past his shoulders. A thick beard coated his jaw, like he’d been on a ship for many days recently, and he wore a thin linen tunic instead of leathers. To accommodate the heat, if the sweat along his brow was any hint.
“I’ve been thirsty,” I said, tipping the water to my lips again.
“Let me buy you your next.”
I gave him half a smile. “Thank you for offering, but that won’t be necessary.”
“Come on.” The man pushed off the pillar and stepped closer to me. Not close enough that I was threatened, but enough that I placed my glass on the table beside me and dropped my hands to my sides. Easy and relaxed, but within reach of my dagger. “Have one drink with me. My next patrol leaves tomorrow.” His eyes crawled over my face. “And with the way you were watching the water just now, it’s clear you have a lot of stories crowding that pretty mind.”
In another situation, the invitation might have been light-hearted, warriors exchanging tales of travels over a drink. But he kept coming closer, until we were toe to toe, and his eyes fell to my breasts, to the way the binding of my leathers was tied so tightly, they pushed up with every inhale.
Mypretty mindclearly wasn’t what he wanted.
“I have many stories,” I said, voice even.
“I have hours to listen. All night, in fact.” No comment about the fact that I was clearly not a Seawatcher. No acknowledgment that he knew who I was—what title I held—which despite his invasive behavior, was a bit of a reprieve.
Shame for him I wasn’t interested.
“I suggest finding someone who has hours to spare with you, then.”Waste your efforts elsewhere.
He leaned closer, bracing a hand on the pillar above my head, and my back stiffened. Spirits, he smelled like a damp ship cabin baking in the cloying heat.
“I’m fine here.” His other hand tucked an errant wave behind my ear, grazing my collarbone as it dropped.
And my patience snapped entirely, fingers curling around the hilt of my dagger.
“I suggest you remove your hands if you value them,” a voice as familiar as my own sliced the air, low and lethal, and my heart fluttered like an Angel’s wings. “Or that pretty little dagger at her thigh will be in your throat.”
I hid my smirk, raising my brows at the man before me. He didn’t back down, but his eyes flashed to my weapon—the only one on me, since I was meant to be acting docile—then dragged appreciatively up my body.
“Oh, now don’t do that,” Tolek tutted, his boots echoing from the wooden interior of the tavern to the stone porch, stopping feet away. “Now I’ll have to join the reparations, and Ijustfinished cleaning my weapons.”
The Seawatcher’s eyes flitted between us.
“Appears you have a choice,” I whispered, inclining my head.
“He’s not my type,” he snapped.
“That wasn’t the offer,” I nearly growled, and Tolek chuckled. But despite the amusement, when I flicked my gaze to him, his stance was all defense. Claiming. Though we both knew I wasmore than capable of handling this, it sent those wings in my chest fluttering again.
With a disgruntled exhale, the Seawatcher pushed off the pillar, his musty scent falling away as he took slow steps backward toward the tavern entrance. The voices inside remained steady, no one noticing the threats we exchanged.
“The pissing contest isn’t necessary,” he said. “I was only offering a drink and some fun.”
“Aftershe declined.” Tolek’s voice was still calm, but his brows rose with the obvious misstep.
“And there’s no contest,” I added, flashing a devilish smirk at the warrior. He waved us away and turned to disappear among the patrons, off to find a more willing participant for hisfun.
“Well, that was entertaining,” Tolek said, stepping into the Seawatcher’s place before me, one hand braced against the pillar as that man’s had been, the other cupping my cheek.
He dipped his head, brushing his lips against my own, and the need for him snapped like a whip inside of me. I tangled a hand in his hair, the other wrapping around his back to pull him closer. Even through his leathers I could feel him harden, his length straining against the barrier as his tongue grazed mine and a moan slipped up my throat.
It took every ounce of Spiritsdamned self-control in my body to not wrap my legs around his hips and grind against him right here, pressed to this pillar, in full display of The Sea Maiden’s patrons. My back arched at the thought.
