Page 26 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

NILSA

F alling into Klaus's dream world is becoming too easy. The beach, too familiar.

The man himself... far too tempting.

If only I remembered to wear some damned clothes to bed. Then the siren wouldn't need to summon me a shirt every time.

Although, from the appreciative looks he gives my boobs, I don't think he minds.

That kiss plays on repeat in my mind as I look him over again. He's still only wearing that damned tiny white skirt, and at the sight of me, the front of it shifts.

I glance, pointedly at it, ignoring the food splayed out before us, “Miss me?"

"Always." His fast grin makes me smile in answer.

I step past him toward the sea, stopping just before the line where the waves meet the sand.

"Your siren not coming out to play today?"

His sigh is short, but his response is quick. "Much like a fae, once we meet our mates, our powers start to get a bit... out of control." He stands and joins me at the water's edge. "Fortunately, we don't get ridiculously territorial like shifters and vampires. Though, I will admit to feeling a little bit... protective."

"So what happened before?"

"My other side just... doesn't understand my hesitation. He wants to sing for you."

His cheeks flush an adorable pink, and I smirk. "Do I need to bring a gag with me?"

"Kinky," he quips. "But, no. I can control myself. Last time I just got a bit... carried away."

"I think we both did," I mutter.

"I can't say I regret it."

The problem is, neither can I.

Klaus's kisses could easily become addictive. His flirty looks alone are enough to make a witch feel desired. It's tempting to let him charm me. To see if the sparks of that kiss would lead to fireworks in the bedroom.

I'm almost certain they would.

But he's dangerous.

I don't trust him.

There's something about him not adding up and it's not just the fated mates crap.

I take a tiny step back as the waves get too close to my bare feet.

"You hate the sea," he says, when the silence has stretched between us long enough.

"It's alright from the beach."

"But you never let your feet get wet."

"You never know what's under the surface, or when the waves might turn on you."

"Actually," he replies, "I kinda do. Siren, remember?"

"I drowned for the second time just a few days ago," I grumble, taking another step back as the tide comes closer. "I got swept off the deck in a storm and I can't swim. Cas had to save me."

Klaus's smile dims. "When was the first time?"

I grimace. "I was six. My mother and fathers were taking me across the sea from Meliad to Sulivad to join a different coven. One with others my age. A storm hit and threw us onto the rocks at Fort Sole. The ship was wrecked and that time there wasn't a shifter around to save me.

"I woke up on a beach in Coveton with Glenna kneeling over me. As a girl, I hated the sea because it took my mother and fathers away. As an adult..."

I trail off. Klaus looks lost.

"I can't imagine... Nilsa, I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault." I wave his apology away. "I didn't mean to be so depressing. I'm not sure why..."

I clam up instantly.

I've not willingly talked about my parent's deaths since I was tiny. Not to anyone.

"Are you doing something? Is your siren?"

Klaus winces. "It's the mating dreams," he admits. "They make both of us... more receptive."

"Receptive?" I glower at him "What do you mean, receptive?"

"The point is to help us form a bond." He shrugs, but his face screams guilt. "They make both of us more likely to listen to positive feelings. You feel more comfortable here than you would in real life. I bet you're not as afraid of the sea here as you would be in the physical world, are you? It's a bit like being...drunk. But not as noticeable."

"And you knew about this, the whole time?"

He doesn't answer. But at least he doesn't bother lying.

"How do I get out of this dream?" I demand. "At least on the Deadwood they're not drugging me. "

"The Deadwood ?" For the first time, rage suffuses Klaus's face. "You're with those pirates ?"

"They're the only people who seem to want to help me!"

He runs an aggravated hand through his blonde hair. "I want to help you. Goddesses above, woman, I'd walk through fire for you. But do you even know what they're smuggling?"

I shrug. "That has nothing to do with me."

The look on his face says it all. "You... Just trust me, Nilsa. You have to get away from that ship."

"They've been nothing but good to me," I retort.

Klaus runs another hand through his hair. "If you trust them that much, ask them what cargo they're carrying and for whom."

"Why should it matter? They're good men!"

Klaus just looks at me incredulously. "They're pirates ."

I turn away from him. "I have no other options and they're treating me a whole lot better than a siren who's using dreams to fuck with my senses."

I have to get out of this place. Even now, the waves are leaching my anger. Making me question myself.

I just want to be able to think clearly.

"End it," I demand. "Wake us up."

The conflict in the set of his jaw makes me think, for a second, that he won't do as I ask.

He steps away, putting distance between us for the first time since all of these dreams began, and the loss of him is enough to convince me that maybe I've made a mistake.

The formal bow he offers cements the sick feeling in my gut.

Before I can do anything, say something, that might fix it, my stomach lurches. The dream beach falls away beneath my feet.

I jackknife into a sitting position in bed. Rain is pounding against the window, but it's so dark outside I can't see anything for several seconds.

There's a figure in the open doorway.

"Klaus?" For a second I'm confused.

"Who's Klaus?"

Nos's voice is a welcome distraction, grounding me in the real world.

"No one," I say, a little too quickly.

I wait, with bated breath, for Kier to call me out on it.

But he doesn't.

For once, the fae isn't stalking me.

"Oh. That's odd." He's still hovering in the doorway.

Don't bite. Don't bite. "Why?"

He smiles as he moves into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Because I've heard that name before." His hands find the edge of the bed. "May I?"

"Yes?" It comes out as a squeak. "How— wait. Why are you in my room?"

His blush is adorable, as are his eyes widening with the start of panic. "I heard you call out, and you sounded... angry. I thought maybe there was someone else in here, or you were getting attacked again. I only opened the door because it was unlocked."

"It's fine." I say, and he visibly relaxes, taking me at my word.

"Was it a dream?"

I suddenly feel a bit too naked for this conversation.

I shift, slipping out of bed and heading for the wardrobe. Nos tracks me as I move, his head moving as he follows me with his ears.

It's only when I've pulled on a long, pale-teal dress that I turn back to him.

"What do you know about sirens?"

He doesn't blink. "They're a matriarchal, warrior empire, but they rarely leave their territorial waters. Their towns and cities aren't mapped, and the only one most people know about is the fortress Marisang, which exists somewhere in the ocean trench between Fior and Safor. They also have the most powerful navy in the world, and their women keep harems, much like witches do." He takes a deep breath, as if wondering if he should say something. "I take it Klaus is a siren?"

I feel the corners of my mouth turn down and grab a comb for something to keep my hands busy.

"How much do you really know, Nos? You see so many things... I'm never quite sure where we stand."

"If I tell you too much, too soon, the outcome won't be good." He swipes a piece of hair out of his face and leans back. "Visions are... complex. So many futures. I mostly see crossroads, places where the future will be shaped one way or the other. Telling anyone what I've seen rarely takes them down a path which ends well."

"Then tell me what else you know about sirens that you're not saying. Tell me why you know who Klaus is, or what type of witch I am. Or better still, tell me what's in the hold."

The instant shut off is visible in his face.

"Klaus mentioned that?"

"He said you aren't trustworthy." I try to keep the challenge out of my tone. "When I said you were good men, he told me to ask what cargo is on this ship."

Nos stands, the motions slow and unhurried, his mouth opens, then snaps shut.

The change is so sudden that I freeze.

I watch as a stiffness overtakes his whole body. His eyes roll backwards. Then time seems to slow as he collapses to the floor.

"Nos!" I abandon the comb and dive for him. "Shit."

His limbs start jerking and I fall to my knees beside him, but my hands are frozen in the air. Should I try to restrain him?

What the fuck do I do?

I have no idea.

"Cas!"

No answer.

But for a second, Nos's movements slow. Only to start all over again. The jerking comes in clusters, cooling off for a second, only to come back worse than before.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

Cas must be shifted, or he would have been here by now. If he was on the boat, he'd have heard me yell with his shifter hearing.

Scales flash across Nos' arms. Splashes of blotchy teal replacing human skin, then fading only to reappear seconds later.

No.

He can't shift here. He'll rip the boat apart.

In desperation, I call the one person who has to be able to hear me.

"VALOREAN!"

"I am trying to sleep, witch!"

I've never been so glad to hear his snarky voice. "Nos needs you!"

The mage drops through the ceiling in the next breath. Shirtless, his hair ruffled, he takes one look at Nos and falls to the ground beside him. He drags a cushion off my bed and stuffs it under Nos's head, carefully avoiding his flailing limbs.

"Hey brother," his voice is oddly soft. The tone so even it actually starts to calm me. "It's me and your girl. We're not going anywhere, so don't fight it."

Valorean looks up at me, dark eyes oddly reassuring. "Say something. The quicker we can calm his beast, the faster it will be over. "

His voice hasn't lost its softness, but the urgency is there.

"Hey," I say, awkwardly, reaching toward Nos's forehead, but stopping halfway. My breath hitches when Val takes my hand and closes that final distance. I gently stroke Nos's hair out of his face.

"I'm not very good at this," I admit. "But yeah, I'm fine. Val's, unfortunately, still alive, and you're going to get the ass-kicking of your life for scaring me like this later."

Val's glower tells me I'm probably not doing this right, but Nos's jerking seems to slow down. His jaw noticeably unclenches.

The scales disappear.

Only when Val's shoulders slump do I let myself relax.

"What the fuck was that?" I wonder, still stroking Nos's hair.

Val rolls his eyes. "You know very little about healing for a Solar witch. That was a seizure."

"I know that." I want to snap at him, but I'm all too aware of Nos, laying, immobile between us. "I meant why did he just..."

"What were you doing before it happened?"

I'd been interrogating him. Asking him questions he didn't want to answer. But I wasn't about to admit that to Val.

"We were... disagreeing."

His quiet snort. "Yeah, that tends to do it. If he resists the vision, even the slightest bit, this is the result. Being a shifter, his beast has a part to play as well. Upsetting you probably didn't have his leviathan in an accepting kind of mood."

"Will he...?"

Val sighs, leaning back on his haunches. "He's in a vision now. He'll hurt like a bitch when he wakes up, but he's had worse."

Nos's body starts to sink into the floor, and I glance up at Val .

"He'll be more comfortable in his own bed." The captain pushes to his feet just as the floorboards completely swallow the shifter.

"Thank—"

"This doesn't change anything," Val cuts me off. "I want you off my ship. The fact that you're a 'Solar witch' but somehow can't deal with a seizure just makes me glad that Idos is less than a week away."

"Don't worry," I growl. "You'll never see me again after I step foot on that island."

"Good."

He says the word with such finality, but doesn't move. He just stands there, white hair mussed with sleep, dark eyes glowering as if he hates my very existence.

Has he even noticed he's only wearing the briefs he went to sleep in? The tight black material shows almost everything.

And my imagination happily fills in the blanks.

He's hard. Why the hell is he hard at a time like this?

Does it matter?

Goddess, why is this asshole so gorgeous? And why is my stupid brain interpreting that sexy, knowing smirk as an invitation?

If I don't get rid of him, I might jump his bones.

"Why are you still in my room?"

He rolls his eyes. "My ship, my cabin."

But he's already striding toward the wall, walking through the wood like it's water, not solid matter.