The Lost Fae (The Twisted Crown #3) - A.K. Koonce Page 0,1

silence. The ship grows nearer. A sense of doom weighing against me with it. How many realms held the human race that I was not familiar with? What sort of civilization are these people living in?

Foaming waves slap against the old boards of the landlocked ship. A single ladder hangs off its edge, dangling down into the shallowest part of the water.

"Ah, I'll go first. Johanna, make sure he goes up without a fuss. If he complains... remind him that what he values most dangles at an optimal position while he climbs." The leader dips her head at the blonde, holding her hat to her before her thick worn boots beat against the wide wooden rungs.

"Yes, Captain." Johanna hovers between us, allowing another crew member to step up behind me.

In moments the Captain scurries onto the ship. She leans over the edge waving the rest of us up. Her barrel of laughter reaches down to us on the shore.

"You. Lincoln." She mocks my plan accent as she says his name. "Up the ladder."

Lincoln's hands grip the rope that holds it all together. Half a thought passes through his mind about how easily he could tear this ladder into bits. He looks back at me for only a few seconds before he starts up the rungs. The wood clatters against the ship as he moves. The ropes groan in protest against his weight.

"I can see why the two of you are together." Johanna sneers with a chuckle. "Prettiest ass I've ever seen."

I sway as she jostles me with the tip of her elbow. Pressing my lips together, I try to hide a small smile. I mean, she does have a point.

The pirate likes your backside, Lincoln.

I'm not surprised. He reaches the top of the deck, pulling himself over the edge of the railing. His form slips completely out of sight. I have yet to see another man. I'm surprised they aren't all drooling at my feet.

That's an awfully arrogant thing of you to say.

Johanna allows a few more members of the crew up the ladder before me. They scurry up it quickly and without a sound. Making it the three women and my Lincoln on the deck.

Mine.

The single word, an angry claim. Fire forages through my veins. The word repeats again and again. Mine. Mine. Mine. Air travels constricted through my throat and into my burning lungs. My muscles beg for movement. My mind pleases itself with the idea of rushing up this ladder and tossing every woman right off this ship and sailing away where no one else can touch him.

Briar. Lincoln's voice is firm.

I blink and Johanna's axe is poking my back in demand.

"I said, move!" she growls.

Now is not the time. Lincoln starts.

The time for what?

Every single one of the pirate’s heartbeats sounds loudly in my ears. It takes everything in me to focus on gripping the rope and pulling my body up. Even pinpointing Lincoln's voice in the rattle of my mind is a fight.

I heave myself up another step. Their heart rhythms beating with a fragility I used to know all too well. How easily could I plunge my hand into their chests and rip out their dainty little organs? How simple would it be to end this entire crew?

We need them. They're our only clue to figuring out where exactly we are and how to escape. Play nice. Claiming me now will only make this harder on you.

Claiming? My questioning thoughts draw out a long sigh from Lincoln. Wood, smoothed by years of use, holds me up as I flatten my palms against the final obstacle. I lift myself over the edge. My eyes are drawn to the Captain who leans on her sword, and taps her foot. The crew who had gotten aboard before me disperses to different areas of the ship already busy with their own work. Still my attention bounces between them watching for any signs that they're watching Lincoln. Because they are. They're watching both of us.

Lincoln reaches for me, steadying me at the waist while Johanna leaps onto the deck. Her boots smack against the old boards with a thunderous stomp.

You're shifting your mind to the primal need of finding a mate. You're claiming me. Which will only make this much messier than it needs to be.

I clasp my hands before me trying to hold them together so I don't reach out and pluck the axe from Johanna's hands. A satisfying image of watching her head roll down the ship