Chapter Thirty

Icould kill him.

If the man holding me would bring me just a little bit closer, I would launch myself at Priest with the last bit of energy I have, my claws extended and aimed right for his heart. But if I reached into his chest, I'd probably find the space between his ribs empty.

The man has no heart.

The man is a monster.

He never loved me. Of course he didn't. He never said he did.

He never had a heart to give.

There were many times during the swim with Maren and Nill that I thought about telling her, disclosing that I know this former Father Aragon and exactly how well I knew him.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Because part of me was ashamed. That I was captured by a rabid Vampyre turned priest, and I fell in love with him. That he kept me prisoner and had his way with my body over and over again, and I loved every minute of it.

Even when Maren filled me in on her life after leaving Limonos, all the horrors she went through with Prince Aerik, how her husband, Ramsay, the captain of the Nightwind, captured her and tortured her in a similar way, even though it seemed she would completely understand, I just couldn't tell her the truth.

Part of me hoped she was wrong about the name, that perhaps she had some other magic Vampyre priest pirate on board.

Part of me hoped she was right.

I thought I used the last of my strength to grab the rope as the crew hauled me aboard, aided by Nill's help, but it turns out the last of my strength converted into rage when I laid eyes on Priest.

My Priest.

My Aragon.

He hasn't changed a bit. The years have been so cruel to me; I've lost all my precious fat, my hair has thinned, and I know the shine in my eyes is gone. But he, he looks as dangerous as ever, just as handsome, just as wild. His long black hair, his beard, the piercing glacial blue of his eyes…even his clothes look the same, white shirt, black pants, though he now has a holster around his waist and a short sword.

And the rosary.

The rosary I left in the cottage.

It's now around his wrist.

He's here and he's human and he's whole.

Why did the monster have to come for me? Why did he have to change?

Larimar, Maren says to me sharply, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand. Do you know this man?

I swallow thickly and answer out loud, in Spanish, so he understands. "He is no man. He is a monster."

"You speak Spanish?" Maren asks me, even more incredulously.

"She does," Priest says, his voice low and measured, though I can see the anxious way he's touching his wrist, the sparks in his eyes. "So, until she learns English, I suggest we all speak her language. I assume most people on this ship speak Spanish as well?"

The men around us murmur. Must be nice to be immortal and have all the time in the world to learn as many languages as you want.

But what language we speak is the least of my concerns.

"What did you say to my sister before?" I say to Priest, goading him. "You said it in English."

"I asked him to give you legs," she says. "He refused," she adds bitterly.

I raise my chin. "Is that so? On what grounds?"

He doesn't answer, his jaw clenching.

A tall, lithe man with shaggy red hair steps forward from beside him and looks at the rest of the crew. "Perhaps it is for the best if we give Aragon and Larimar some time alone."

"I'm not going to be alone with him," I practically spit. "I have nothing to say to him."

"So sorry, but how is it that you know each other?" the man with his hair pulled back says, scratching at his facial hair. From the way he hovers protectively behind Maren, I'm going to assume this is her Vampyre husband.

"Why don't you tell them, Priest?" I sneer. "Why don't you tell them what you did?"

"They know what I did," he says quietly. "They just didn't know it was you."

"So they all knew you pulled me out of the ocean? That you kidnapped me, held me captive in the back room of your church where you would torture me and drain me of my precious blood?"

"Sounds familiar," the man remarks gruffly.

I turn my head to look at him. "Who are you?"

"Thane," he says. "Your brother-in-law. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady."

I scowl at him. He's no different than any of these men. From the way they all stare at me, with that hunger in their eyes, these Vampyres are dying for a taste of me, just as Priest was.

I look back to Maren. "Did he then tell you that he lowered my defenses? Made me believe he cared about me?" I trail off, looking away, hating that I have an audience for this, that they have to see my shame. "Or perhaps he didn't even try. I fell for him anyway, soul, heart…body."

"Larimar," Priest says, his voice hoarse.

I ignore him, adjusting myself in Thane's grip. "And then one day, one day I thought I was his equal, and he let his monster come out. He tried to kill me. I only escaped by pure luck. I hit the ocean, and thanks to the way he bound his spell, the magic reversed, and I turned back into a Syren. I swam away while his church burned."

Maren rubs her lips together, thinking it over as she looks at Priest. "The stone wouldn't let me see who the Syren was. Had I known it was Larimar…"

"What?" Priest asks. "Would you have still brought me on board? Still let me join your crew?"

"Yes," she says, her eyes watering. "Yes, because I would have done anything to bring my sister back into my life. I need your magic, Aragon. I need you to let her have a proper life with me."

Priest's intense gaze slides over to mine. "And you, Larimar? Is this what you want? Or are these your sister's wishes?"

Everyone is looking at me, waiting for an answer.

But I'm afraid to speak the truth.

I'm afraid if I do, it won't happen.

Because this monster still has so much power over me, and I hate him for it.

I hate him for so much.

But mostly, I hate him because I loved him.

"Yes," I finally say, trying to sound strong and commanding, the opposite of how I feel. "I want you to give me legs again so I may join my sister on land, and I want to be able to turn into a Syren when I'm back in the ocean. Most of all, I want you to disappear afterwards. As soon as this storm clears, I want you on one of those small boats over there, and I want you set adrift."

"We can at least wait until we get to our next port," Ramsay suggests.

I shake my head. "No. I don't know how long that will be, and I don't want to be stuck on this ship any longer than I have to with that creature over there."

If Priest is hurt by my words, he doesn't show it.

Now, every head swivels toward him, waiting for his reaction.

He stares at me, and I can almost feel him probing into my mind, searching deep into the recesses of my heart and soul. What is he looking to find? I just told him—and everyone else—everything there is.

Then, he exhales deeply, his features softening a little. "I will give you what you desire," he says slowly, "but it comes with a catch."

"Of course it does," Maren mutters.

He keeps his focus on me. "I will do all that if you'll talk to me alone."

"And how can we trust you won't do anything to harm her?" Maren asks.

"You can't," he tells her. "But your trust isn't what I'm after. It's hers. And this decision isn't yours to make."

He's right. The decision is mine, and it weighs more than anything.

"You don't have to fear me, Larimar," he says, his gaze steady. "Though you have every reason to. I will even be restrained in chains if that makes you feel better."

Frankly, that does make me feel better.

"You'll be restrained? Chained up?"

He nods gravely.

Oh, how the tables have turned. I almost smile at the idea of him being locked up for a change, with me being the one in control.

"And you'll grant me my wish first?" I certainly don't feel powerful as a Syren out of water, having to be carried everywhere.

"It might take a few days," he says. He looks at Ramsay. "Unless you have some provisions that might help speed this spell along? I work with physical matter; I can't conjure a spell from thin air."

Ramsay nods. "I can try and get you what you need. We have tonics, dried herbs, fresh ones that Sedge grows. Elixirs. You name it."

"A few days?" Maren says, brow heavy with disappointment. "What is she supposed to do before then? She's too malnourished to keep up swimming with the ship—in a storm, mind you—even with Nill's support keeping her afloat."

A pause stretches out between us.

"Do you have a bathtub?" I ask.

"The sun came out," Maren says as she steps inside, closing the door behind her. "The storm has come to an end."

"I could tell," I remark. "Most of the water has been staying inside the tub."

I've been in the copper bathtub in Ramsay and Maren's private lavatory for the last few days while Priest does what he needs to do to conduct his spell. The ship has been rolling and rocking with the storm, which in turn has made my bathwater slosh wildly, until I woke this morning to utter calm.

But though the end of the storm means smooth sailing for the ship, there's nothing calm about how any of us are feeling. Maren's voice may be bright, but there's an edge to her gaze, and I know from the way she gnaws at her lip that she's been just as anxious as I have about what's supposed to transpire.

"Have you talked to him today?" I ask her, meaning Priest.

She shakes her head. "No. He's been busy in his quarters." She pauses as she crouches beside the tub, putting her hand over mine as I rest it on the edge. "Is this really what you want, sister? Or am I forcing your hand?"

I give her a faint smile. "You know it's difficult to force me to do anything. This is what I want. Part of me feels like a traitor to all Syrens for doing this, but I'm not about to lose you again. I looked for you all those years so I could talk to you again, just like this. I made Priest give me legs in the hopes I would escape and then find you on land. I want to join you, you and this crew."

She grins. "The Nightwind would love to have you, but you shouldn't feel like a traitor. Just because you were born a certain way doesn't mean you have to love it. It doesn't mean you have to stay that way if you have the choice to change. The sea is filled with plenty of Syrens who would never do what we did, not in a million years."

"You said Syrens are a dying breed," I point out, and I can confirm that to be true from what I've seen.

She nods solemnly. "We are, but that doesn't change what we want, does it? I am choosing my own happiness. You need to choose yours. Besides, if Priest's magic works as before, you'll have the best of both worlds."

I make a noise of agreement, adjusting myself in the tub.

"Can I ask you something?" she asks after a moment.

Somehow, from her tone, I can tell it's going to be about Priest. "You may," I say warily.

"Did you really love him?"

I sigh and look away from her searching eyes. "I don't know."

"You do know, though. I can see it in you. I know what that looks like."

My head whips back around as I glare at her. "Well, I don't still love him," I say testily. "That's absurd. After what he did?"

"Love is a strange creature," she says. "It doesn't follow logic or reason. It just exists, and we can either make friends with it or become its enemy, but it doesn't stop what it is."

I clamp my mouth together, not about to say anything in retort, just as a knock sounds at the door.

"Come in," Maren calls.

"It's me," Ramsay says from the other side. "I have Aragon with me. He's ready to do the spell."

My pulse skips, and I sit up straight in the tub, adjusting my hair over my breasts in a strange display of modesty.

Maren looks to me for consent before she gets up and opens the door.

They join us, Priest wearing all black, a jar in one hand. Like in the church, it's filled with various items suspended in water.

He meets my eyes and gives me a faint nod.

I nod back, suddenly terrified. The sight of him scares my fragile heart, while the idea of the spell fills me with dread. What if it all goes wrong?

"I want them here for this," I quickly say.

"Of course," Priest says. "If only I can have you alone afterward."

A thrill runs through me, though it shouldn't, and I do my best to hide it. I exhale harshly through my nose. "Yes. That was part of the deal."

"Should she get out of the tub?" Maren asks. "Ramsay could hold her up."

"That won't be necessary," he says. "It's probably best for her to stay where she is."

He comes closer, his tall, large frame looming over me, his presence seeming to take up all the air and all the space in the room until all I can focus on is him.

The predator and the prey.

For a moment, I let the fear go, the bad kind of fear, and let the good kind in. I imagine that we're alone in the room together, that I'm naked in this tub before him and helpless at his feet. I ignore where my mind wants to go, how it keeps wanting to remember him as a flying beast who made me hurt, and instead, I think of the man who made me bleed. The one who drank from me, couldn't get his fill, who made pain and anticipation as sweet as a kiss.

"This might hurt," he says to me in a gruff voice as he reaches into the water.

Before I realize what he's doing, he plucks a scale off my tail.

"Ow!" I cry out, jerking out of his grasp.

The corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly. Oh, he enjoyed causing that pain. Some things don't change.

"Bastard," I swear.

He raises a brow, and I know that look. He always gets it when I curse. I think it gets his blood running hot.

"Anything else you need?" Maren asks. "Fingernails and eyelashes, perhaps?"

Priest gives her a tepid glance. "Just some of her blood." He looks back to me. "Now, I can feed on you, or I draw blood some other way. It's up to you."

"I'm not letting your filthy mouth anywhere near me," I snarl at him, throwing out my arm. "Cut me with a knife if you have to."

He frowns and grumbles something to himself before he draws his sword from his sheath. Holding the open jar underneath my arm, he makes a deft cut with the sword's tip, right across my inner forearm. I suck in my breath and watch as a bit of blood trickles into the glass, certainly not at all like the first time he did it.

Then, he takes the glass and swirls the blood with the other contents before putting it under my lips. "You know what to do. You must drink it all."

I make a face. "It's vile."

"As am I," he says grimly. "And magic takes on its maker. Drink."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I'll give you in return?"

"Well, last time, you promised me your body and soul forever," he says, clearing his throat. "And look how that turned out."

"And you promised you would hunt me down, that the magic would ensure you'd find me, no matter how long it took."

He nods. "As it did."

"You also said I wouldn't want you to find me," I add.

"Are you arguing with that, little fish?" he asks idly.

I ignore the pang in my heart at the sound of my nickname and give my head a shake. "No."

But I'm lying.

And he knows it too.

"Then drink," he says.

I take the jar from his hands this time, try not to breathe out of my nose, then drink the contents back.

"Caudam capio et tibi pedes dabo," he begins to chant while I focus on not vomiting. "Vocem capio et servitutem tibi trado."

Somehow, I manage to swallow the disgusting liquid down while Priest continues chanting, and I'm just about to ask if that's all there is to it or if he's going to bite me like last time when he reaches forward, palming the side of my head and exposing my neck.

"Aragon, no!" Maren yells at him, like he's being reprimanded.

But Priest doesn't listen, and I have enough time to grip the sides of the tub, the empty jar falling into the water as I brace myself for his bite. It's as strong as I remember, his fangs sinking deep as he pulls back my blood into my mouth like he's ravenous.

I gasp from the pain, but pleasure soon takes over, and I find myself sinking into the tub, slipping into oblivion in a rushing stream of red.

"My Gods," I hear Ramsay whisper.

Then, I start to feel it.

Beyond Priest's feeding is another sensation, this one deep inside and strangely familiar. The feeling of bones being broken apart from the inside.

Suddenly, I'm screaming as the pain tears through my body, and Priest stops drinking from me. I glimpse at him standing back beside Ramsay and Maren, his mouth bloody, watching in awe as I begin to transform.

I pinch my eyes shut, my body writhing, water sloshing over the side of the tub, the world twisting and spinning in hot waves, like I'm being born again, bursting from the broken shell of my ribs.

I am not me anymore.

I am someone else.

I am everything else.

I am magic.

"You did it," Ramsay whispers. "Aragon, you did it."

"Larimar?" I hear Maren cry out, her hand at my cheek. "Are you alright?"

I lift my head and open my eyes to see my old body again.

Naked and in a bloody bathtub.

Two thighs, two calves, two feet, ten toes.

And the pink, hairless space between my legs that Priest knows so well.

I don't even bother covering up.

Let him look.

"It worked," I say, meeting his eyes. He's fighting to meet my gaze, though I have to say, Ramsay isn't doing a very good job of it either. When he catches me noticing, he quickly averts his eyes.

"I'll go get you some clothes," he says quietly before he leaves the room.

"Do you need anything?" Maren asks, grasping my hand. "Are you in pain?"

I shake my head. "I'm sore, but I'm not in any pain. But I do have a request for Priest."

He swallows hard. "What?" he asks thickly.

"You wanted a chance to talk with me alone? Then I get to choose when. And I want you locked up until then."