Slave To The Seven Seas

Chapter 5

    Sunlight streamed through my window, alighting on my face. With a groan I threw the blanket over my head, effectively blocking out the sun. I felt awful, like I had somehow been spun around and shaken up all at once. The knock at my bedroom door was unwelcome, so I ignored it and stuffed my head under a pillow. A minute later, the door opened anyway, much to my dismay. A weight sank into the bed beside me and instead of peeking out to see who it was, I simply stuck my hand out from under the covers and raised one finger in the air.

    A familiar chuckle told me who was invading my space. He grabbed my hand before I could retract it, and kissed the tip each of my fingers. I was grateful for the blanket hiding my face for it was now a deep red.

    "Come on, pet, it's far past time to get up. I allowed you sleep in, but you can't spend all day in bed." His voice was playful, yet commanding. I knew I would have to obey him, but the thought of moving an inch right then seemed torturous. My head ached like I had fallen down a flight of stairs, and my stomach was twisted into sailor's knots.

   When he was met with silence, Cyrus flung the blanket back, exposing my face to the bright room. A hiss slipped through my teeth, and I tried to cover my eyes with my hands. Clicking his tongue, Cyrus got up and crossed the room, partially closing the curtains. Now that it wasn't quite so blinding, I removed my hands and reluctantly sat up in bed.

    Cyrus took his place beside me again, perching on the side of the bed. He took the plate he had set on the nightstand and placed it gingerly in my lap. "Eat. It will make you feel better. And make sure to drink this entire glass of water." He reached out, brushing a stray curl from in front of my face. My hair was frizzy and stuck up around my head from a night of restless sleep.

    I took my time eating, worried my stomach would betray me. As soon as I was sure I had eaten all I could and downed the glass of water as he'd instructed, Cyrus moved me to a stool by the vanity and began combing my hair. He was gentle, not wanting to pull or tug on my scalp. I hummed, relishing the feeling. It was an act so simple, so benign, and yet, it spoke volumes.

    I was moved by his efforts to take care of me. I couldn't believe this man, who had saved me and then essentially kidnapped me for himself, was going out of his way to make me feel appreciated. In a thousand years I never could have predicted something like this. I leaned involuntarily into his touch, and all of a sudden, a memory from the night before came bobbing to the surface of my foggy mind. The two of us, dancing, him holding me close, me clutching to him as if for dear life. The conjured image send a wave of embarrassment washing over me, blood rushing into my cheeks and up to the tips of my ears.

    "What is it pet? Does my proximity make you flustered? Because it certainly didn't last night." He teases, a wicked grin upon his face.

    I groan, at a loss for words. My head drops into my awaiting hands; I wished I could just disappear.

    Cyrus continued to tease me for the rest of the day. He poked fun at my ailment and foul mood, earning nothing but eye rolls and groans in return.

    The last two days of our stay in Linia Bay were ordinary; I either explored the port or worked on translating the merchant's journal, and Cyrus either worked diligently beside me or was off conducting business on his own.

    As we prepared to board the ship once more, I took my time packing my new things. I wanted to savor the last moments in the city before I was cooped up at sea again. The window in my room was ajar and I paused to soak in the sounds and smells one last time. I could hear children's laughter in the distance, no doubt as a result of some game played in the square. People haggled their wares, negotiated price, the regular back and forth of the market. The faint smell of seasalt carried on a light breeze wafted past me. Along with it came the warm scent of the bakery across the road.

    I would miss this place. I could almost see a home for myself in a place like this, waking daily and eating pastries for breakfast, becoming friends with my neighbors, playing with the children- perhaps even with a child of my own.

   Cyrus's knock on my door brought me back to the present reality. With a sigh that conveyed all that could have been, I gathered the last of my belongings and followed him out of the inn.

*******

   Perhaps sensing herdisinclination to head back to the ship, Cyrus offered her his arm, hoping the gesture might calm whatever nerves she was battling. Her arm fit snuggly in the crook of his, her fingertips resting on his forearm like a flower petal floating upon a still pond. However subtle the touch, the consequences endured by the otherwise collected captain were similar to that of a ripple sending a typhoon to distant shores.

    Ever since their dance at the tavern a few nights ago, Cyrus found that her touch was like lightening, sending a jolt through him at every contact. It both frightened and excited him in a way he had never experienced before. It was as if her very presence had lit a fire where there once was only ash. He craved her more with each passing day, finding it more and more difficult to control himself around her. Up to this point he had been gentle, attentive to her past traumas, whatever they may be. For he knew something had to have occurred before their meeting. He hadn't failed to notice the bruises she tried to cover, or the indents on her wrists that suggested they had been bound. He was also painstakingly aware of how easily she startled. She practically jumped from her skin the first few times he had touched her.

    It infuriated him that anyone could treat such a tender, prepossessing woman such as Alissandra in such a disgusting manner. Despite their strange initial encounter and their preternatural arrangement, she had shown him nothing but compassion; her sparkling, radiant aura bringing joy into his otherwise abysmal existence. The more time he spent in her presence, the more he yearned to get closer to her, to learn about her past, her dreams, her desires.

    But more than that, he wished to hold her, to kiss her, to hear whatever sensual sounds of pleasure he could draw from her lips. He fancied tugging her into a shadowed alley along the road, pushing her against the brick, and claiming her mouth with his own. He could muse for hours over her lips alone: what they tasted like, what they felt like, how they would respond and open to him. Every part of his body ached for her, screamed for her.

    His reverie was soon dashed as he caught sight of the markings around her frail wrist once more.

    No. He thought,  I cannot let my animalistic nature destroy her. I will not allow myself to be the cause of her nightmares.