Page 19 of Storm and Sea (Storm and Sea Saga #1)

“ D amn it!”

Leo kicked the net with frustration. Three tiny fish were all that accounted for his morning catch, and one was already dead. He stomped on their worthless corpses.

“Damn it, Damn it, Damn it, DAMN IT!”

He crushed them until they were nothing but chum beneath his boots. Leo collapsed to the deck, back against the guard rail, holding his head in his hands. The net brought up less and less fish every day. Pretty soon, even with the advantage of a new boat, it wouldn’t be enough. How was he going to explain to Edgar that they’d have to return the boots they’d just bought him? How would he explain to Annetta they’d have to sheer her curls again? Right when they finally started to grow back. How would he… how would he…

How would Leo bear this torture for the rest of the season? And likely the next. And the next. For the rest of his life, he’d be a slave to his master.

Alvise had called him into the valley six times now. Or was it seven? Leo lost track of the days spent on the estate. Lost track of the hours he spent on his knees, doing nothing. Leo didn’t understand the game Alvise was playing with him or what reaction he hoped to get. Each time Leo was called to the estate, Alvise commanded him to kneel in the center of the room, hands crossed behind his back, and wait.

People shuffled in and out: businessmen, maids, butlers, and other members of Alvise’s ‘collection’ of beautiful things. All of them wore the Vincenzo sigil in one form or another, a golden lion rearing over a sash of purple. It appeared over and over. First as a necklace, then a vest, or emblazoned on a suit pocket—all markers of ownership.

All Alvise’s property.

They walked past Leo without a word. He may as well have been a piece of furniture. No one acknowledged him, not even when Leo’s pleading eyes searched for theirs, begging for help. They didn’t want the same fate.

He knelt on the biting cold marble floors until his knees went numb, and his arms ached from holding them behind his back. Leo learned early on that even the slightest shift in position would catch Alvise’s attention. The Lord of the estate immediately commanded Leo to resume his uncomfortable stance .

“Or do I need to bring my guards in?”

Leo shook his head, crossing his arms obediently.

“Good boy,” he said before returning his attention to the pile of paperwork at his desk.

It was Alvise’s most recent summons to the valley—the one that forced Leo to sneak out of bed in the dead of night—that finally pushed him to his breaking point. The call came suddenly. Leo jumped out of bed when a furious knocking shook their house, waking everyone inside. One of Alvise’s men demanded he come to the estate. Leo only had time to pull on his boots and shout some incoherent excuse about the boat to his parents before rushing out.

Alvise was in a rage, hurling chairs across the room and shattering porcelain china against the walls. Glassware crashed to the floor, splintering into glittering shards as he yelled at anyone and anything in sight. Something went wrong with a shipment. Or was it the title for a new commercial shop in the square? Whatever it was had sent Alvise into a tailspin.

“You!” he shouted when Leo rounded the corner to the office, the guard hurrying away. “Get your worthless ass here NOW!”

Leo rushed forward and was met with a ferocious slap to his face. He barely caught himself with one arm, the unyielding marble floor jarring his bones.

“Did you think you could postpone this? That making me wait would delay our midnight rendezvous?”

“I—I didn’t.”

But it was pointless to try and defend himself with words. All he could do was endure the blows.

“Did I imagine how long it took you to arrive? Are you calling me an idiot?”

“No Signore . Never.”

Leo had the sense to stay on the floor.

“On your knees. Now.”

Trembles shook him as he assumed his position, mentally preparing for the endless night.

“Stay,” Alvise ordered as though he were a dog. “And if you so much as move an inch”—he seized Leo’s chin, jerking his head, his fingernails leaving imprints in his cheeks—“you’ll regret it.”

Alvise dropped his face and turned off the light, slamming the door closed and leaving Leo alone in the dark.

Leo hung his head, grateful for the black, empty space; it let him pretend the tears running down his face were drips leaking from the ceiling.

When Alvise returned, Leo couldn’t tell whether he had been alone for hours or minutes.

He heard a ‘click,’ and light detonated, like another slap to the face. His eyes squeezed shut, burning from the sudden glare. The solitary pitch-black void was gone, replaced by something more cruel—exposure. And watching his tormentor stride into the room, holding a jockey’s whip, struck a new kind of fear in Leo’s heart.

Alvise was freshly bathed, clean-cut, and drowned in musky cologne. If it weren’t for the man wearing the scent, Leo might have liked it.

The whip softly pressed against the underside of his chin, lifting his head and forcing Leo to meet icy eyes. The strap hadn’t struck him—yet Leo shivered as though it had. It tapped against his cheek as Alvise let out a disapproving ‘tut.’

“So close. So much wasted potential. You could be the prize of my collection with the right care, with the right training.”

The whip slid across the crest of his nose, where a fresh sunburn stung.

“Too much time in the sun brings out these blemishes and darkens that pretty skin. It’s a pity. ”

Leather glided along his cheek, resting at the curve of his jaw where he sported a thin white scar.

“And this,” Alvise shook his head like someone had scratched his prized car. “A permanent blemish on what could have been the prize jewel of my collection.”

When the touch of leather disappeared, Leo hung his head, neck aching with strain. The moment his chin dipped, white-hot pain cut his arm, forcing him to reach out and catch himself.

“Did I say you could look down!? Hands behind your back!”

Leo complied, lifting his head but keeping his eyes tightly closed. He didn’t trust the tears not to fall again.

The barest touch of fingertips stroked his cheek with dishonest tenderness.

“Open your eyes, my pet. I want to see you.”

Leo did, and tears spilled from the corners of his eyes in a steady stream of misery. His tormentor considered him for a moment, head tilted to the side.

“Better. You’re learning. I like my pets to be trainable. Even though you’ll never be the most brilliant gem in my collection, you will kneel and obey, as is expected of all my possessions. Still, your scum-of-the-earth upbringing might prove advantageous for me. I’m sure I’ll find other uses for you besides cladding you in my silks.”

Alvise paced in a wide circle around Leo, his footsteps deliberate and slow.

“I always had an eye for beauty, even as a child. But as I quickly learned, it was as much a gift as it was a curse.”

He slapped the whip in his palm with a loud ‘smack,’ and Leo flinched. Alvise either didn’t notice or enjoyed Leo’s display of fear as he continued his predatory circling.

“Fine things, expensive things, bored me by age twelve. What was the point of jewels and silks if a mere snap of my fingers brought them to me on a silver platter? Where was the pursuit? The joy in the chase? The thrill of discovery? The satisfaction in laying claim. No. I set my eyes on something far more difficult to acquire.”

Alvise paused somewhere behind Leo’s back. Sweat beaded down his temple. He felt like a rabbit waiting for the mountain cat to pounce. Tied in a snare of his own making.

“People, my dear pet, are the most beautiful things in all creation. But finding examples of this perfection was akin to searching for a diamond amongst polished quartz. I found there were a lot of fake beauties in the world. Of course, as in all things I endeavor to do, I perfected the art and brought my diamonds home. As you can see, my collection has grown nicely. But where to keep my precious possessions? Surely they had to exist in a place as divine as themselves.”

Alvise rounded on him, crouching so they were eye level, his arctic gaze burning into Leo like dry ice.

“Do you know a place like that? A place with white beaches and crystal waters? Where the land is lush, and the hills are painted with white clover in the spring?”

He leaned even closer, and Leo caught the hint of something sour on his breath.

“Tell me, pet, where might I find a place like that?”

“H-here. Signore Vincenzo.”

Alvise nodded. “You’re absolutely right. After years of searching, I’ve found the paradise my beautiful things deserve. But can you guess what happened as soon as I found this place?” His voice rose dangerously. “I found it overrun with vermin!”

The whip cracked on Leo’s arm in the exact same place it landed before. He whimpered but didn’t dare move. Alvise resumed his pacing, this time faster.

“And, of course, as my luck would have it, the good times of overpowering my enemies with sheer force are behind us. Now, we have to do things with a certain amount of raffinatezza —finesse, as my grandmother says. It seems the Bracaleone line is reforming their image.”

He grumbled as he said it, as though the idea of simply overthrowing Baia Vita with guns and violence was his preferred method.

“No matter. As the Bracaleone heir, I will bide my time. I’ll wait for Ginerva and Assura to meet their maker, then restore the Vincenzo name. I am nothing if not adaptable.”

He hummed to himself, pondering his own genius.

“So what do I do in the meantime? I bring my family’s fishing empire to your shores. I starve your bay, crumble your shops, and undercut your prices with stores of my own. And once the locally owned businesses are gone, I raise my prices—choking the last of the local filth. Warfare is waged just as effectively with coin as it is with bullets. Baia Vita will be mine soon enough.”

Leo was going to be sick. He couldn’t listen to this.

Alvise’s voice suddenly doubled in volume as though he were announcing his plans to an audience.

“And what do I find among the dirt? Not one, but two diamonds.”

He stopped in front of Leo again, squeezing the whip in both hands.

“One was easy enough to acquire but dulled from lack of care,” he gestured to Leo. “And the other…” Alvise twisted and squeezed the leather until his knuckles turned white. “The other continues to refuse me. My usual bait doesn’t tempt the red fox; no, she’s too smart for that.” He smiled as though the challenge excited him. “If only her face matched those beautiful tresses. How that color robs me of sleep.”

Alvise considered Leo now, slapping the whip once again into his palm.

“But if she were here, on her knees, poised and obedient — maybe. Maybe I can break her into something more palatable. Chip away at that infuriating pride to find my diamond.”

Leo ground his teeth together, crushing the words he wanted to shout. Marina would never bow to this man. She was strong.

Stronger than me.

Leo only hoped she could escape this monster before he found a way to break her.

“I digress,” Alvise hummed, lifting Leo’s chin once again with the leather rod. “What do you think? Will you stay with me when this island becomes mine?”

Before Leo could come up with a response, he was gagging as Alvise forced a thumb into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue.

Only then did Leo notice that Alvise wore a silken bathrobe, its folds tied gracefully around his waist. Leo had been so preoccupied with the whip that he hadn’t considered the implications. Now, with his mouth open and a hungry look coming over that arctic face—Leo knew.

Alvise removed his thumb, smearing spit on Leo’s lips.

“When I say, come to my estate, you say?”

“Yes, Alvise.”

“When I say get on your knees, you say?”

“Yes, Alvise.”

“And when I tell you to open your pretty mouth, you say?”

“Y-yes Alvise,” Leo all but sobbed.

“Good boy.”

“What the hell am I doing?” Nephi groaned to himself as he settled into his temporary shelter for the night.

The ground was too exposed, and the water too far from where he needed to be. Why he needed to be here in the first place, Nephi had no fucking clue. But here he was, curling into his lean-to on a human rooftop. A few pieces of wood, an abandoned crate, and a tarp made up one of the more comfortable shelters he’d managed while scouting human territory. What made the makeshift hut a bit less miserable was the black four-legged creature that curled up beside him.

Every night.

“Get fucking lost. I don’t have anything for you.” Nephi tried shooing away the feline. It didn’t yowl or beg like other alley cats; instead, it watched him with poised interest.

“Go home!”

The glowing orbs continued to stare at him expectantly. He couldn’t sleep with the little creep watching him like that.

“What do you want from me?”

As though finally given permission, the white-mittened cat leaped gracefully from its perch, flicking its tail at Nephi’s nose. It curled against his side and began a surprisingly loud chorus of rumbling purrs.

And thus, their nightly ritual was born. Each evening, as the village quieted, the cat—whom Nephi had begrudgingly grown fond of—appeared like clockwork. It was clear the cat had a home, given its glossy coat and well-fed belly. Why it chose to bother him every night was anyone’s guess.

Nephi was annoyed at first, muttering under his breath about how he wasn’t running a damn hotel, but he never shooed the cat away. There was something oddly comforting about the soft purring that filled the rooftop silence. He told himself it was the warmth the feline brought on cold nights or the way it kept the birds away. The creature was useful—nothing more.

“You’re just using me, aren’t you?” he grumbled as the cat pawed at his makeshift blanket before settling in. And yet, when its small body curled tightly against his, Nephi felt his eyelids growing heavier.

When Nephi woke, his little shadow was gone.

He began yet another day of tailing Nyel, gathering intel for reasons he couldn’t explain, and wandering around the outskirts of Corallina.

He chuckled to himself as he watched Nyel drop a heavy fish tray on his toe and hop on one foot like an idiot.

“Serves you right,” Nephi said into the fishcake he’d swiped from a vendor down the block. He couldn’t find anything with a hood after ruining the last sweater, but the leather jacket he stole this morning hugged his shoulders perfectly. Nephi might even say he looked sharp.

If not for the blazing scars.

He promised himself to take better care of this one. But stealing from the locals and watching Nyel play human wasn’t even close to the pace of life Nephi was accustomed to.

He was bored.

I should be back with the Pod.

But the memory of Nyel standing up for him made Nephi pause. It was the first inkling of a familial bond he’d never dared hope for. For the first time in his life, he wanted to try. And that, in and of itself, was a miracle. Because Nephi never once had the desire to try for anything.

He simply was.

Nephi watched as Atreus came to his brother’s rescue, lifting the heavy tray. They were laughing about something. And the sight made something in Nephi’s chest ache. He was so distracted by the display that he failed to sneak off before being spotted.

Nyel caught sight of him and waved with a genuine smile. Another pang sparked through his chest, and Nephi wasn’t sure if he liked it. He’d never get used to it—the idea that someone was happy to see him.

Maybe my dumb little brother isn’t half bad.

He shoved the rest of the fish cake into his mouth and flipped Nyel off. Nyel tilted his head in confusion, hesitated for a moment, then mimicked the gesture with a bright smile. Nephi snorted as Atreus quickly grabbed Nyel’s hand and shoved it down, no doubt hurriedly explaining what it actually meant.

The white sand and blue waves were picturesque. If not for his own disfigured form ruining the scene, it would have been perfect. Nephi was glad when footsteps approached him on the isolated beach, and a moment later, Leo sat a few paces to his left.

“Nice jacket,” Leo said by way of greeting.

“I think I’ll keep this one for a while,” Nephi replied, admiring the cuff.

“Pretty sure I’ve seen the exact same one on Signore Livici’s son.”

“Give him my thanks.”

Leo scoffed but said nothing else.

“It’s kind of a bitch in this weather, though,” Nephi said, fanning himself with his collar. “It doesn’t breathe very—what the hell happened to you?” he gasped as the human’s face came into full view .

Leo’s tone of voice and physical presence were completely out of sync. While he sounded fine, a single glance revealed that he was anything but fine. Both Leo’s eyes were two huge bruises. Angry red welts ran along his cheeks and down his neck. Nephi assumed the wounds continued down the rest of his body—the tell-tale signs of a whip.

“Oh, this?” Leo pinched a strand of hair. “I got a haircut; thanks for noticing.”

Nephi shook his head in disbelief.

Even when he’s obviously been through hell, that mouth of his…

After a moment, Leo exhaled sharply. “Not gonna say anything else?” he huffed, his slouched posture betraying his strain.

“What is there to say? You look like shit.”

“I don’t know why I came here expecting anything from you.”

“If you want someone to hold your hand, then this beach isn’t for you,” Nephi said callously.

“Nobody’s ever held my hand. I pull myself up every fucking time.”

“Yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” Nephi probed.

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I have it under control.” Leo’s voice was solemn.

Nephi brushed a stray bit of dark hair from his eyes; he’d need to cut it soon.

“So, that thing you were telling me about—the one you said couldn’t get much worse than it was—did it get worse?”

Leo’s fingers gripped the sand like he could strangle it. “Yeah. And I don’t need an ‘I told you so.’ I’ll be a pessimist like you next time.”

“Realist,” Nephi corrected, “and what else did you expect coming from a fucked up bastard like me?”

Leo snorted. “Touché. ”

They listened to the waves ebb and flow; Nephi matched his breaths with the rhythm of the sea.

“Don’t let this beat you,” Nephi said, catching himself by surprise. He felt Leo’s gaze on him but couldn’t bring himself to meet it. His throat tightened as he spoke again, the words more firm this time. “Whatever it is, you need to come out on top.”

Because nothing is allowed to break you before I get the chance.

“I won’t. I’ll endure it. Like I always do.”

Nephi nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Good.”

Nephi liked this human. Liked his fighting spirit. Not unlike another fighting spirit he once knew. Maybe he’d keep this human around. Maybe he’d leave Baia Vita and let this one live. But one look at those golden curls, the seamless glide of his amber skin, and the way his thin upper lip dipped just right—Nephi knew that was impossible.

He’d have this human. He’d have him and watch him shatter like glass. Feel his blood drip between his talons in a crimson rain.

“Who are you really?” Leo asked, breaking the stillness. “I never see you around town.”

“A phantom.”

Leo let out a mirthless laugh. “At this rate, I’m inclined to believe you.” He took a handful of sand and watched it slide between his fingers. “Especially on this beach.”

“Tell me about it—why you come here.”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“You assume I don’t already think that.”

Leo took a deep breath. “I’m pretty sure a sea monster saved me from drowning and left me here on the beach. There, see? Crazy.”

Nephi chewed the inside of his cheek. He’d been hoping for a bit more than that.

“You don’t look surprised,” Leo said after a moment.

“Nothing surprises me. ”

“Really?” He shifted. “Not even this?”

Nephi’s palm was up, and he snatched the pebble from midair before it hit his head.

Leo whistled. “Impressive. How did you know I would do that?” he asked, and Nephi was glad to see some of the darkness in his eyes gone.

He preferred him this way: engaged, alive.

Ripe for picking.

“You’re predictable.”

“How so?”

“Because you’re human.”

Leo rolled his neck, working out a knot in his muscles. “Aren’t we all?”

No, my prey. We are not.