Kit caught the ladder and gave it a firm tug. When it held, he offered his gloved hand to Nick. Nick stared at it. Without any frustration, Kit caught him by the elbow and manhandled him to the ladder. “Climb.”
The rowboat rocked beneath his feet; the black wall before him heaved like a beast taking in a great, big breath. “My hip’s broken,” Nick said flatly.
Kit caught him by the back of his neck, hair tangled in the hard grip. “I am being watched,” he hissed against his ear, leaning in close enough that Nick smelled beeswax, but none of that pleasant ochre he’d noticed on the man previously. He twisted his head to meet Kit’s eyes, show his glare. Kit stared back, unmoved. “There will be no more kindness. Climb.”
Nick looked up. Among the sailors stood a familiar face, Kit’s partner from the party. The one who’d broken her fan, cracking it against the hand now gripping his nape. She was watching, her face in shadow. Kit looked up too, and his body stiffened as he laid his eyes on her. A tremor shook his hand.
“I’ll climb,” Nick said. He realised his threats and entreaties to be let go thus far had been utterly pointless; Kit was following orders.
Nick caught the highest rung within reach and climbed. What else could he do? His hands were free, but they were too far out from land for him to swim in safely. He had a feeling that he’d be chased down even if he tried it now. Two sailors grabbed him, and Nick almost struck out at them before he realised they were just helping him over the railing.
The white sails unfurled, a team of young boys flying up and down the mast ropes, at ease with the heights. A broad man at the helm barked orders. He looked at Nick, examining him from head to toe in a single, efficient glance, then moved his attention on to his crew, doling out orders.
“That’s Captain Hin,” Kit murmured from close behind Nick, almost leaning over his shoulder as he spoke. “He’s a trader, and this ship is his.”
Nick ignored Kit and turned to the only person not running around. She examined him the way one did upon receiving a much-anticipated item in the post, only to find they’d been duped by a miniature. Her hair fell around her in gentle waves, undisturbed by the breeze. Soft-petal-pink lips stretched into a hard line, one twitch off an ugly sneer.
She was the one Nick needed to convince they’d just stolen the wrong person. He could make them understand that his brother’s boyfriend was a merman, and Nick suspected there was very little that said brother wouldn’t do to make sure Trevor and Laurence were happy—which incidentally would mean making sure Nick came to no harm. He could make her understand that if he was returned safely, they’d probably get out of this without Adonis sinking their ship.
Nick opened his mouth. “You’re a stupid bitch,” came out.
Her sneer was uglier than anticipated.
Kit’s breath caught.
“Kit.” She somehow made the name sound ugly too.
White noise blasted through his skull. Nick careened forward, knees striking the decking when he failed to catch his balance. Pride squashed a pained groan. He cursed that tail through dizziness that he struggled to blink away. Through swaying vision, he saw the sailors briskly leaving.
“On his back,” she ordered.
Gloved hands obeyed her. As if he were looking up into a canopy filled with birds, the eyes of boys stared down upon Nick from above. They looked as though they were part of the ship, their tails swishing like loose ropes in a breeze.
Kit knelt next to Nick, splaying a hand across his chest. Nick glared, but Kit didn’t react. The torment, the guilt, eventhe frustration Nick had provoked was gone; the man’s face was blank. He didn’t meet Nick’s eyes, instead staring at a piece of decking next to his head. Nick gripped the hand on his chest, but before he shoved it off, the woman stepped in.
She looked down on him for long seconds, bitter anger in her eyes. She crouched, the fabric of her elegant dress sifting softly, and she touched Nick’s hand. Her fingers were ice cold. “If you ever call me that again, I will have Kit beat you until you’re split open with every last bone exposed to open air.” Every word was a promise that Nick believed.
The skin of his right forearm began to burn, as if it were beneath a tap spraying out too-hot water. It distracted Nick. He didn’t notice the woman getting closer until her face was right above his own, hair cascading down with the tips tickling his cheeks. He flinched. Even though her hair looked soft and dry, it felt wet. Her flawless skin seemed greenish now that she was closer, and the scent of algae washed over him.
“I know you did not mean it.” Her fingers curved inwards until she covered his entire hand. Kit’s grip tightened, that small tremble that Nick had felt on the back of his neck before boarding the ship beginning again. An involuntary response. Fear?
“You were just frightened, were you not? But you should be careful. I’m not fond of foul language.”
The burning on Nick’s arm became an inferno. Like a hot poker hovered above the skin, eager to sink into living flesh. A panicky feeling welled up within him. He didn’t understand where the pain was coming from; neither Kit nor the woman was touching his arm.
“But I can forgive.” She kept her eyes on Nick. Kept her hand on his. And then her other hand cupped between his legs.
Nick’s entire body jolted; nerves atomised.
“Don’t you fucking touch me.” Nick jammed his hand up. Cartilage crunched against the heel of his palm.
Kit made a sound of alarm as she reeled back. She had little balance crouched in heels, and she crumpled onto her back with a wail. Loose hair masked her face as she cupped her nose. Kit belatedly caught Nick’s wrists, but he fought back.
“A load of fucking rapists, are you?” Nick snarled, kicking up with his legs.
Kit’s eyes were wide, his entire body shaking as he grappled Nick onto his stomach and climbed onto his back, pinning both wrists into the decking. It was cold and damp. Kit’s entire body trembled above him. He stooped, mouth inches from Nick’s ear. “How did you do that?” Kit whispered, urgent and desperate.
A sailor reached for the woman to help her up. “Let go of me!” There was an odd cadence in her voice, like she was inside a body of water and shouting to be heard beyond the muffle. Captain Hin appeared, offering his hand to the woman. She didn’t take it. Instead, she got to her feet herself, hand covering her face. Craning his neck, Nick saw the blood beneath it and felt not one bit of regret. So what if she was a woman? Pinning someone down and touching them like that meant all manners were off the table; no courtesy was owed.
