Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“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.
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?