Текст книги "The sea ogres eager bride"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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Chapter

Three

RANAN

Why, by all the gods, why did I say bride when I meant to say bribe? My foolish, clumsy mouth has gotten me into trouble again.

I want to snarl at the sea around me, but that will solve nothing. Like it or not, I have a woman now instead of a donation from the human travelers. I could go back and demand both, but then I seem less decisive in their eyes, and in piracy, strength is everything.

It’s why I don’t talk much—so there’s no risk of stumbling over my words.

Ha.

I swim through the waters to Akara’s side and tap her beak, letting her know we’re moving. I send a mental image to the hamarii of where I want her to go, clearing the narrow strait so the humans can pass through as agreed. Akara’s thoughts are grumpy—she just settled in. Why must she move again? But I fill my mind with thoughts of the chin scratches I will give her as a reward, and she pushes off against the narrow cliff, turning and drifting away a short distance.

She will not go far, nor will she submerge. Hamarii like the sun upon their back, and Akara is no different than her brethren, for all that she’s bad tempered. I send her thoughts of gratitude as I surface again to watch the ship nearby.

I don’t know the kind it is. I’ve seen different sorts of ships from the humans. Some have heavy bellies that drag in the waters and tall sails above. This one is long and flat, with a great many oars and an unimpressive sail. It’s clearly meant to stay in shallow waters, which is why they’re being forced to pay my ransom. Once they’ve passed again, I’ll let Akara move back to her spot in the strait and we’ll wait for the next unfortunate human ship to pass.

Perhaps this time my tongue won’t trip me up.

The human boat is a flurry of activity. The female—my bride—is holding her wrists out to one of the soldiers. He frees her from her chains and she moves to the side of the boat even as others cry and wail and argue. Without hesitating, she gives a clumsy jump over the side. At least she is brave.

Gods. What am I going to do with a woman?

The human surfaces and immediately begins to paddle with her hands and feet like a dog, all splashing and very little movement, and I bite back a sigh.

I’ll have to show her how to swim since I’m now stuck with her.

I watch as the woman paddles out to Akara, who is drifting farther and farther away. The human wench will never make it at this rate. It serves her right for being such a bold liar. Two-finger tease indeed. I’ve never heard of such a thing. It was clear from the way she stared at me with fascinated horror that she’d never seen one of the seakind before.

I don’t like liars.

But the woman was desperate to leave her situation and eager to join me while the other females shrieked in horror. I’ve heard too many stories of females that would fling themselves over the side of a turtle to drown rather than be in the company of the seakind, and that’s the last thing I want.

I want peace and quiet. I hope the new female—my new bride—understands that. If I liked the company of others, I’d still be part of my family flotilla. When Akara started showing signs of territorial aggression, I would have taken her far out to sea and released her to be wild and free. But I like my quiet, and I like Akara, so I drift up and down the coast instead, demanding tithes from humans who find themselves caught in my strait.

I know others from neighboring flotillas that live the same life I do. If I were lonely enough, I could have saved up and purchase a hound trained to hunt in the shoals. Instead, I now have…her. I watch the female paddle gamely forward, still in roughly the same spot she was when she started.

Biting back another sigh of annoyance, I glide through the water to her side. Her eyes widen in alarm as I swim up, but I ignore that. I lock an arm around her waist and anchor her against me. As I do, her arms go around my neck, cutting off my air.

I ignore that, too, though it’s more difficult, and swim out to the retreating Akara’s side. A dozen splashes tell me without turning that the oars are back in the water, and the humans are now going to paddle madly to try and get as far away from my territory as possible. They’ll spread the word when they arrive back in port that a vicious sea-ogre is robbing ships that pass through, and eventually I’ll have to find a new strait to guard.

That’s a problem for tomorrow, though.

For today, I have a human clinging to me that I don’t quite know what to do with. I make it to Akara’s side and send her comforting thoughts, even as I all but heave the human onto the edge of her shell.

What exactly am I supposed to do with a human bride?

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Chapter

Four

VALESSA

Crawling onto the back of a sea turtle feels strange, yet it’s not the strangest thing so far this day. I should think nothing of it after all that this day has brought. And yet…it’s not like being on land. It bobs like a ship, though with a different sort of motion, and one that makes me instantly queasy. I shiver, my slave-shift soaked and clinging to my skin. Every bit of my body is outlined under the thin fabric, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I tug it off of my skin as best I can, cross my arms over my breasts, and study my new environment.

It’s very…flat. Empty. Underneath my bare feet, the turtle shell is warm and rough, a bit like a cow’s hoof, and the most surprising thing of all is the thick clumps of moss that grow in cracks on the shell. They hang from the back like tufts of pale green fur, dry from the sun’s rays and crusted with salt from the water.

The turtle is also even bigger now that I’m upon it. When I was a young girl back in Parness, we once walked half a day to see a traveling menagerie at an amphitheater. The amphitheater had been huge, like a giant bowl set down by the gods in the midst of the city. I remember the base of the bowl being sandy and large enough that you could fit several buildings inside. That’s how big the turtle’s back is.

As I get closer to the center, I see that the tree on its back is not actually a tree at all. It’s a bony protuberance—a spike—in the dead center of the shell, and more of the strange moss hangs from it. A wooden cage of some kind has been attached at the top, and it looks like more moss and seaweed hang on it to dry. I turn to look at the sea-ogre’s tent. It’s made of the same strange glossy leather that he wears, and I don’t dare go inside if I’m not invited.

I might be brave, but I’m not that brave.

I rub my arms, continuing to shiver as I look around. There’s no spot for a fire to warm the camp. Of course there’s not. This is the back of a turtle, I remind myself. Why would anyone build a fire? And yet it’s disappointing to realize because I’m freezing with cold and there’s no relief to be had. I glance over at the sea-ogre but he’s ignoring me, and I suspect it’s not the time to demand dry clothing.

The turtle moves into the sunshine and it feels good. Maybe if it stays here, I’ll warm up. I sit near the tent and hug my knees close, watching my new “husband.” He moves around the turtle’s back, looking busy. I watch as he checks the strands of moss and seaweed hanging on the cage and then ducks into his tent. He emerges a moment later with a nasty-looking trident and gazes out at the waters as the ship slowly moves past the turtle.

It’s a warning. It’s him telling them that he’s letting them pass, but if they try anything, he’ll attack. You wouldn’t think that a single man could intimidate an entire ship full of soldiers, but they watch him warily. He might not win if they all attacked at once, but he knows these waters. I have no doubt he could tip over the entire ship with a few movements and I doubt many of them could swim. If it fell to hand-to-hand combat, he’s nearly twice as big as the men and could take down a great many of them without breathing hard.

No one wants to risk their lives over a single slave—me—and I don’t blame them.

I continue to shiver, watching as the ship drifts past, the oars digging into the waters. Just when they’re about to pass, Lady Dywan struggles to her feet, the chains dragging on her arms. “We won’t forget you!” she cries. “When I’m free, I’ll find a way to save you from this monstrous fate!”

I’m touched. Perhaps I’ve misjudged Lady Dywan. I doubt she’ll be able to do anything, seeing as how she’s heading for a Sunswallow brothel and likely to a fate worse than mine. I’m actually not feeling too bad at the moment.

When my father was killed and I was sold into slavery, I cried bitter tears. When my first master died, I cried again, knowing that my fate was uncertain. I’m far more used to the cruelties of the Lords of Fate. There are no tears this time, only planning. I need to please this sea-ogre. I need to be a charming companion, one that makes his life easier. A happy master is a benevolent one, and I don’t kid myself into thinking I have any rights as a monster’s bride. I’m a slave again, regardless of the title. But I know what’s expected of me. Make the food, tidy the house, be willing in bed.

Except there’s no fire to make the food.

There’s no house, just a lone tent on a turtle’s back.

That leaves just one task for a slave, and it’s not one I’m particularly looking forward to. My new sea-ogre “husband” is oversized, and he’s sure to have a huge cock. Nothing to be done about it save for practicing my “why yes, I love a huge pike shoved into my innards” face.

I smile brightly as the ship passes, only for the sea-ogre to jump over the side of the turtle and disappear into the water. Oh. Perhaps he’s going to follow and make sure that the ship leaves his territory. I wait patiently for him to return, keeping my expression eager. Like this is all I have ever wanted, to be a sea-ogre’s bride. Like I have no thoughts and dreams of my own, and that I want nothing more out of life than a giant prick in me.

Time passes, and there’s no sign of the sea-ogre. I scan the waters, looking for the sail atop his head, but find nothing. The ship is long gone, and I’m alone on the turtle’s back.

It makes me nervous. He’s coming back, right? If he leaves me here, I’ll have to swim to shore. It’s just that…there’s nothing but sheer cliffs in this strait, and there’s no shore to be had without a very, very long swim. I’d drown before I made it to shore. He’ll come back, I tell myself. It’s his turtle. His territory.

Something splashes in the water, and I automatically look over. It’s not the sea-ogre, just a fish jumping, but it reminds me of my promise. I swore to the god Vor that I’d find him a huge fish and offer it up as thanks. I clasp my hands and bow my head, thanking the god for saving me from the brothels, and that as soon as I figure out how to get him his fish, I’ll offer it. I’m grateful that the capricious Lord of the Waves saved me. Being a sea-ogre’s woman isn’t exactly what I asked for, but I hadn’t been specific, either.

You get what the gods give you, and you’re grateful for it.

The sun warms me for a time, but then the shadows move and the turtle’s broad back falls into the shade of the cliffs once more. I’m chilled to the bone, shivering and hungry, and there’s still no sign of the sea-ogre. Am I supposed to be doing something, I wonder. Does he expect me to make him dinner? Set up a bed? Something?

I get to my feet, stretching, and my muscles protest. I’ve held myself in the same cramped position for hours, and I don’t know why. I’m free. I rub my raw wrists, now rid of the manacles, and love how light they feel. Whatever else happens…I’m free. I stretch, my arms over my head, and then shiver at the cold.

“Are you here?” I call out. “Lord Sea-Ogre?”

There’s no response. I didn’t expect to hear one, but I figured it was worth a try.

“Your bride is in danger of freezing her tits off,” I call again. “Have you anything warm I can wear? A fire I can build? Something? Anything?”

No response. I’m alone on the turtleback island.

Right, well, if he’s not coming back, I’m not going to sit out here in the open. I dust off my ragged gown, noticing that it’s practically falling apart now that it’s gotten wet, and head for his tent. I’m curious what he’s hiding in there.

Inside, everything is in bags. There’s no bed, no cozy sitting chair, no nothing. Just bags and bags. Well, sort of. There’s dead fish as well.

The strange, puffed-up fish look like a child’s ball, each one as big around as a circle I can make with my arms. The mouth of each one is sewn shut and they’re dried and hard and hollow. There’s a cord through the mouth, and on the other end of the cord is a small bag made out of more of the strange leather. I run my hand over the leather itself, because it looks scaly and strange. Is it from a snake, I wonder. Or something else? I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s tied tightly in one spot and then stuffed with a cloth rag and tied lower down below the rag. It seems like a lot of work, and I’m not entirely sure what the reasoning is behind it. Ritual? Spellcraft?

I finally get the last knot worked through and peek inside the bag. It’s dark, but I can make out the gleam of…gold? I reach in and my fingers brush over cool metal, encrusted with gems. A few more touches and I realize the entire bag is full of jewelry.

By the gods, the sea-ogre is rich.

A throat clears behind me.

I slump. Of course he’d come upon me nosing through his bags. Of course. He’s gone all day and returns the moment I touch his gold. It’s like the Fates are determined to show me their disdain by making my luck absolutely rotten. But I’m not going to let this beat me. Papa always said we make our own luck and I’m going to make mine right now.

So I turn and toss my hair, giving the sea-ogre my most winning smile. “It’s about time you came back. Do you have anything warm to wear?”

He crosses his arms over his chest—all four of them, which is an alarming, intimidating sight. “Stealing from me?”

His voice is low and raspy, gruff and full of anger.

“Looking for something dry to wear,” I repeat, and hold my hand out. “My fingers feel like ice, and jewels might be pretty but they won’t keep me warm.”

He eyes my hand but doesn’t take it.

That’s fine. I continue on. “My name is Valessa. You can call me Vali if you like.”

No response.

“What’s your name?”

Again, no response. He just glowers at me.

“I know you can speak. You just did. Silence only works in certain situations, and this isn’t one.” I tilt my head and study him. Gods, but he’s tall. The sail atop his smooth head just makes him seem taller, and his shoulders are impossibly broad. He’s still wearing nothing but that loincloth over his deep golden skin, and he doesn’t seem to be suffering from the cold like I am. “Since I’m your wife, don’t I at least get the benefit of your name?”

But he just continues to glare at me. He acts like I’ve done something wrong, when I’m the bride he requested. If this is how he acts around women, it’s no wonder he has to demand one like a pirate instead of acquiring one the normal way.

Has he demanded other brides from sailors in the past? If so, where are they? It’s a terrifying thought, and one I push away quickly. Instead, I focus on getting his expression to crack. I’m here now, and I must make the best of this. So I arch a brow at him, using my most flirty look. “Good sir, are you waiting for your wife to service you?”

His gaze flickers, but he still doesn’t speak.

It’s a start, though. I lift my chin. “I’ll happily do so.” It’s a lie, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that I’m less eager than I pretended. I’m excellent at pretending. “If I’m to service my new husband, however, I need for you to ask for it aloud. It would make things very odd between us if I started gobbling your cock and all you wanted was for me to pass the salt.”

It’s a tease, a joke. It’s meant to make him laugh, to open up, to respond. Even if all he does is drop his loincloth, I know what to expect. This is me figuring out what my new master wants from me so I can anticipate his needs. If I make him happy, life will be easier. Running away is out of the question. There’s nowhere for me to go and I have no coin. Parness is in ruins, and a woman alone on the roads to Aventine will be quickly enslaved once more.

This sea-ogre is the trouble I know, so I’m going to stick this out.

I almost expect him to continue to stare at me in stony silence, as if there’s some secret to making him respond that I’m unaware of. But he finally speaks. “Two-finger tease, eh?”

So he’s thinking about that, is he? “Indeed. Popular with all the sea-ogres back home.”

“Sounds like you’re more experienced than I am. Very well.” With his gaze locked on me, he unbuckles his belt and unwraps his loincloth, dropping it to the ground.

Not one but two cocks unfurl from the depths of his loincloth.

Two.

Two very large, very un-hard cocks.

“Oh.” For once, quick and easy words escape me. I stare, my jaw hanging open. I’d expected him to be large. I hadn’t expected two. And of course it seems reasonable that he might have two, what with the fact that he has two sets of arms. All right. I can handle this. I can.

Before I can say anything else, though, he snorts at my stunned expression and stalks away.

I’ve been completely caught in a lie.

Here the sea-ogre took me for a bride because I promised all kinds of naughty pleasures, and he’s realizing now that I have zero experience with his kind. My shock at his doubled anatomy made that plainly obvious.

I’m an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t be called out, and now I have to fix this. He’s storming away from me, and I need to do something.

“Fine!” I call out, chasing after him. “You caught me. I lied about the two-finger thing. I just had to get off the ship and your appearance seemed like a good opportunity. I’m sorry if I’m not as skilled as you expected me to be. That ship was going to end up at the bottom of the sea. If it ever made it to the city of Sunswallow, I’d end up sold off to a brothel. I figured one master would be better than a hundred.”

He remains silent, so I race in front of him and drop to my knees, clinging dramatically to his leg. “I’m ready for my punishment, my husband.”

That gets his attention. He stops walking. “Punishment?”

I nod, pressing my cheek to his warm, damp leg. I don’t have to feign panic. I’m desperate—I need him to like me. “You can whip me. I’m told I heal fast.”

“Because you’ve been whipped before?” he asks, voice icy.

I nod again. I’m not the most obedient of creatures. I tend to run my mouth—some would call it lying—to try and grease the works. Sometimes I get caught.

The sea-ogre huffs, the sound one of irritation. He pries me off of his leg and continues to stalk away. As I sit on the ground, trembling in fear, he moves to the edge of the turtle and dives into the water.

Gone again.

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Chapter

Five

RANAN

Well, that went well.

I swam for hours, thinking about what I’d say to the woman when I got back. How it had been a mistake and I’d drop her at the nearest port as soon as I could. How she doesn’t have to remain here as my bride. That I truly don’t want company. I’m not the sort that’s good at conversation, or keeping people entertained. I’m best alone.

But the moment I saw her digging around in my sacks, I forgot everything I planned. And from there, it just got worse. She kept talking and talking, and before I knew what I was doing I was lowering my loincloth just to catch her in a lie. To prove that I knew that she was full of stories, and that she didn’t need to pretend around me.

Instead, my actions just made her frantic. She clung to my leg and begged me to whip her.

Whip her.

It’s absurd. Why would I strike her just because I’m annoyed? If anything, I’m annoyed at myself. It’s my fault we’re both in this situation, all because I couldn’t say to the human captain, actually, no, give me your gold instead of a woman.

So I swim again, because at least if I’m swimming, I don’t have to look into her pleading gaze, her hungry, desperate-to-please eyes. I don’t want to hear more about the terrible fate that was awaiting her and why she thought being with me would be better for her than staying on the boat. Of course she spoke up and volunteered to be with me. I might be hideous and have too many limbs, but like she said, one master is better than a hundred.

I feel like a churl for scaring her. I feel like a churl for keeping her.

Tomorrow I should call to Akara, touch minds with her, let her know that I want to head to shore. We can get close to a human city with a morning’s easy travel.

We’ll set the woman on the beach there and forget we ever laid eyes upon her. Let her be the problem of the land dwellers.

Decided, I haul myself up on the turtle’s back once more and shake the excess water free from my skin. The red moon is high and there’s a distinct chill in the air that isn’t felt under the warm waves. I contemplate going back under the water and drifting in sleep. I can sleep as the whales do, automatically coming up for a breath when my lungs are emptied. But curiosity makes me approach my tent, because she will no doubt be there adorning herself in the many necklaces and gold jewels I’ve taken from others that have passed through my domain. I want to see her reaction when I wake her up and kick her out of my tent. I want to prod her and remind her that she’s not safe with me, because I didn’t want her in the first place.

I don’t even make it to my tent. Underneath Akara’s back spike, huddled around herself, is the small, shivering form of the human female. She’s not in my tent. She’s not wearing my stolen jewels. She’s a small, pathetic lump out in the open, with no blanket, and her teeth are chattering loud enough to raise the dead.

I stop in my tracks and stare at her. I don’t know what I feel, looking at her so pathetic. Is she doing this to earn pity from me? Or because she is truly afraid of me? Does she truly think I’m that much of a monster?

It doesn’t matter that I was planning to kick her out into the night a mere moment ago. A mere moment ago, she was draped in jewels in my mind’s eye, reveling in my riches. This is just…pitiful. A doomed soul should be sent to Vor’s arms with a quick slice to the throat, not forced to endure a long, painful death by freezing. I might not like the female, but I am not cruel.

Kneeling at her side, I jostle her shoulder rudely.

She comes awake with a start but makes no sound. Her eyes blink large into the darkness and then focus on me. “Husband⁠—”

“No,” I growl. I don’t want to hear that. Not from her. Not right now. I point at my tent, indicating she should go inside.

The female opens her mouth to speak and her stomach growls so loudly it comes up her throat. Horrified, she claps a hand over her mouth. “Well, that was a wretched sound. Apologies…master? Can I call you master?”

I get to my feet and glare down at her. Did she not see me pointing at the tent? Are we truly going to talk about names right now? I just want to sleep.

“I’m Vali,” she tells me again, tapping her chest. “I don’t expect you to remember it, so I’m happy to help out until you do. Let me serve you, master. It’d bring me great joy. Can I⁠—”

She breaks off as I stab a finger at my tent, indicating she should go into the shelter and out of the cold wind.

“Yes. Your tent. Of course. Time to earn my due. I don’t know why I didn’t realize that.”

Vali hops to her feet and heads for the tent. Finally. By the gods, it’s like trying to steer Akara when the stubborn hamarii is in a wandering mood. Relieved that we’re finally getting somewhere, I put a hand on her back and guide her into my tent.

It’s a mess, I realize, as we step inside. The red moon is bright, casting enough light to see by near the entrance. I have no bed in here because when Akara and I are on the seas, I sleep in the cradle of the waves. It’s only when I’m in my grotto that I use a bed with blankets and padding. I use my tent for nothing but storage, keeping bags tied and primed for a submersion. A few of them have spilled open because I chased her out earlier, but nothing in here looks comfortable or warm enough for a human woman who’s shivering with cold.

The woman—Vali—steps inside and immediately pulls her dress over her head and tosses it to the floor. She sinks to her knees and throws her shoulders back, her breasts jiggling with the movement, and she gazes up at me. “How would you like me to serve you, master?”

I might be seakind, but I am not dead. The sight of her, naked and willing, makes both my cocks quickly engorge. Even in the near-darkness, I can see the heavy weight of her rounded breasts, the dark tips that are always visible, even through the flimsy fabric. Her belly is gently rounded, her hips thick and her legs strong. If I were to pick a human for a wife, I’d pick one exactly like her, with a robust body and magnificent large breasts.

Her gaze flicks up to my face, full of uncertainty at my silence. Then she smiles, the expression coy and sly, and reaches for my belt. “I’m happy to take the initiative, master. Like I said, I know just what males like⁠—”

I grab her wrist before she can touch me. She’s misunderstood why I brought her in here. Of course she has. I’ve been nothing but cold and unfeeling to her since she arrived. I said I wanted a wife, and now she thinks she needs to fulfill her wifely duties. And while I might get aroused at the sight of her naked body, I have no wish to touch a female that clearly does not want me back. She’s offering because she’s afraid, and that’s not an offer at all.

“Sleep,” I bark out at her.

She flinches at my tone, pulling her hand back. “Yes. Of course. My apologies, master. I’m just trying to please⁠—”

“Not your master,” I say, exasperated. “I don’t own you.”

Vali blinks up at me. “I don’t know what to call you.”

I bite back a sigh of frustration. “Ranan.”

She smiles, the expression startlingly sweet. “Ranan. What a nice name. Does it mean anything in your tongue?”

“It means sleep,” I growl at her. I grab her discarded dress and shove it into her hands. “Put your clothes on and sleep.”

Vali meekly puts her dress back on, and I can hear material ripping even as she does. The garment is about to fall to pieces, I suspect. It looks hard used. But she smooths it down her body and then looks around my tent, cluttered with sacks and buoys. “Any particular spot you prefer I should sleep? I don’t want to be in your way.”

I step forward and shove three of the lighter bags aside, clearing out a spot. When I gesture at it, she immediately sinks to the floor and curls up there. “Thank you, Ranan.”

The way she says my name makes my cocks twitch again. I grunt, determined more than ever to find a human settlement and get rid of her. She’s distracting me, and the last thing I need is a distraction with pretty tits and all kinds of willing words born out of desperation. A hamarii is no place for a human, not even the wife of a sea-ogre. She’s not staying.

She wraps her arms around herself and shivers amidst the bags, and I realize she’s still cold. I have no bedding with me, not even fish leather that I can use as a makeshift blanket. Everything’s in my grotto a few days away.

By Rhagos’s eye, I’m going to have to provide the warmth for her.

Clenching my jaw, I lie down on the floor of the tent next to her and pull her against me. She makes a pleased sound and immediately turns into my embrace, putting her arms around my neck.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pleasure you, Ranan?” she breathes, her voice soft and liquid against my neck.

“Sleep,” I growl at her.

“Right. Sorry.”

She doesn’t sound sorry, though. She sounds a little amused. It irks me for no reason at all, and I put my arms around her and close my eyes, determined to sleep despite the hard, unyielding scratching surface of Akara’s back. If the human can sleep here, so can I. Tomorrow I’ll find a beach and dump her so she can be on her way and I can be free of her. I’ll even give her a necklace so she won’t be totally destitute.

Vali tucks herself against me, her breath fanning against my neck. I start to drift, my nose full of her pleasant scent and tickled by her tangled hair, when she speaks up again. “Ranan? I don’t want to bother you, but I have to find a great fish to give Vor as thanks for bringing me to you.”

I pat her arm, letting that be my answer. I don’t tell her that she won’t need a fish, because she’s not staying.

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