Page 147 of Pirate Witch

Cas mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a threat to chuck the captain overboard as he leans in to steal a kiss before heading over to the chest where his clothes are stored.

“So, where to?” Rysen asks.

I grin and look up at Val. “Ilyani. It seems the Goddess wants you to have to actually attend a Mage Council meeting.”

Val groans. “I should’ve stayed dead. I swear Withers sends a bird for every little fucking vote.” He says his new assistant’s name like a curse. “What was the point of paying him—twenty gold a month—if he can’t just do the job for me?”

The ship whirls on the spot, sails flapping loose as Val steers us out of Hardhearth Bay and towards the open water.

“If it’s any consolation,” I begin, pressing a kiss to Rysen’s bicep and moving over to where Kier is sitting on the steps. “I have a feeling there will be fewer mage assholes to deal with than usual this time.”

My fae smiles and drops a kiss on my forehead.

“You’re beautiful when you’re plotting how best to kill someone,” he whispers against my ear, giving me shivers.

Nos takes a spot on my other side and pulls me down so my head is on his shoulder. I don’t get to stay that way for very long before my siren interrupts us.

“Food’s done,” Klaus yells from the bowels of the ship. “Did anyone bother to pick up more supplies in Coveton? Or do I have to ask our mate to waste her power turning more of these biscuits into bread?”

The others look at one another sheepishly.

“We’ll stop in Port Evert,” Rysen promises, following me as we head down to the galley.

“Nilsa needs more underwear, anyway,” Nos adds.

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be ripping any more off me in the near future,” I retort. “Maybe I’ll just go without and save myself the trouble.”

“Fine by me,” Rysen interjects.

At the same time, Val mutters. “But Ilikecutting your clothes off you.”

And Cas says. “Wait, are you not wearing anything under that dress?”

Shooting the rest of them a grin that should tell them exactly what the answer to his question is, I enter the galley and kiss my siren chef soundly on the lips.

“Sorry, Klaus, but dinner is going to have to wait,” Kier mutters, his cold hand tracing up the back of my thigh.

“It’ll keep warm,” my siren replies with a shrug. He lifts me by the waist and sets me down on top of the table, widening my thighs so he can step in between them.

When he claims my mouth again, I sigh into him, my body softening in welcome.

It’s going to be a long time until dinner.