Chapter Seven

The rain continued on.

Two times Nuriel had fallen asleep for an unknown length of time only to reawaken to the sound of its patter. Two times she had drank from the bottle and eaten the fruit, leaving her with enough for only one meal left. Once she had crawled over to the far side of the ship to find a space to relieve herself. She was going to have to find a clean way to go about that once the rain stopped, but for now she had few options.

Now she was sitting slumped in her dark corner, hand closed around the bottle’s neck, sullenly looking out at a small crack in the ship’s hull across from her. Beyond she only saw the flicker of raindrops. Not even the light of the moon pierced through.

Sighing, she leaned her head back and stared up at the dark. She was miserable, she felt a little queasy from eating nothing but fruit and drinking wine, she was slightly disappointed in herself for accepting the red-eyed demon’s offerings, she was bored out of her mind, and she was fairly certain that her horribly bloody death had only been postponed, which made being cooped up in the boat’s hull all the more aggravating.

Strangely though, the one thing she wasn’t was afraid. Oh, sure, she had been absolutely terrified when fleeing from the razor-birds and the massive crocomonster. But now, having been yanked back from the precipice of death itself, she felt strangely neutral about her continued survival. If anything, she was mildly annoyed.

She took another pull of the wine. It was okay, but not the best drink she had ever had. To tell the truth, she had never much cared for alcohol. It dulled the wits, and the last thing Nuriel needed to be was off her guard, and the taste had never meant anything to her.

Still, there had been one drink that she fondly remembered…

…Nuriel yawned wide…

…one that she never expected to enjoy again, but sometimes found herself longing for…

…Arroyos is an odd town. Nestled in a bay just off the coast of the island of Cuba, it is not built upon dry land, but instead raised up above the water on wooden slats and connected by bamboo bridges and wooden walkways, expanding outward until it was twice the size of the meager slice of dry land it had grown from.

It even boasts a decent dock, letting the Periwinkle finally find mooring after weeks at sea. The crew is all worn down and exhausted, and are looking for to some measure of shore-leave, to just having something beneath their feet than the ship’s swaying timbers.

Frankly, Nuriel is finding herself half-considering just staying with the ship. More people means more possibilities of being discovered, and the town isn’t the sort she can just walk into and disappear.

But like the rest of the crew, she is tired and restless. Besides, the men all are insisting that she come ashore, eager to show Ned the silent cabin boy a good time.

Unfortunately, it isn’t the fun times she had been promised, at least not at first. First comes the mooring of the ship, the tying and checking of ropes. Then comes the back-breaking part, the unloading of the cargo that they had been commissioned to deliver to this particular town, and of course, though she is easily the smallest and weakest member of the crew, Nuriel is expected to shoulder her fair share of the load. And even after all that, she is given little time to rest, as next comes the loading of supplies, from the new stores of food and water to cloth, wood, and metal for repairs to other bits and pieces that had been depleted by the voyage.

But then, with the ship watered and victualed and the repairs well underway, it is finally time. The sun is dipping down below the horizon, night is coming, and normally that would mean lights’ out, time to sleep, but tonight it means something different.

Tonight it is time to play.

Any crewmember not needed aboard loads into a pair of rowboats and heads out to the larger island, following the cliffs until they come across a wide beach. And once there, scrap wood is gathered and set alight into a massive bonfire. Bottles are passed around, freshly caught fish and rabbits are scaled and skinned and set alight, and the soon everyone is gathered around the fire, drinking, eating, singing, talking, and laughing. Several locals join the fun, some of them dockhands known to the crew, others are ladies of the town interested in making sure that the crew’s time spent with them is memorable.

Everything about that night remains seared into Nuriel’s brain. The warmth of the bonfire as it crackles beneath the stars. The sound of the black waves mingling with the cries of the gulls. The laughter of her crewmates and the songs that they sing, the first time any of them experienced joy in weeks. The humming of the ship musician’s accordion as he leads the crew through their favorite shanties. And though Nuriel can’t join in, she still grins and claps along, enjoying a rare moment of comradery in her life of lies and fearful solitude.

But most of all, she remembers her.

Nuriel’s eyes snapped open. The dream had been so vivid, so realistic that even after awakening, she could still smell the burning wood and cooking meat mingled open containers of alcohol. She took a deep breath and glanced about.

It was still dark, and outside, the rain had not subsided. Now the only wood Nuriel could smell was old, cold, and wet. Whether that meant it was night or that the clouds were so thick that they choked out the sun, she had no way of telling.

Nuriel ate the rest of the fruit and drank the last of the wine. Wiping her mouth, she settled back, folded her hands over her belly, and closed her eyes.

They first see each other on the docks.

Though Nuriel is curious to see the town, there is little time to stand and gawk. Nuriel has a job to do, and to slack would be to invite unwanted attention. She kneels down, grabs onto the sides of a box packed with glass jars filled with seasonings and spices, and lifts it up.

The box isn’t that heavy, but its contents are fragile, so Nuriel has to take it slow as she makes her way out of the cargo hold, up onto the deck, down the rampway, and down the dock, until she finally comes to where the cargo is being stacked, one careful step at a time.

Placing the box down, Nuriel straightens up, wincing at the complaining of her knees. This is the fourth such box she carried out, and it is starting to get to her.

As she wipes her palms on her trousers, she glances down the dock.

And then she sees her.

There, standing at the other end of the dock, is a local girl, one that seemed to be about Nuriel’s age. But while Nuriel took great pains to hide any trace of femininity, this girl seems to rejoice in hers, from the way her white blouse hangs loosely around her slender shoulders to the flowers in her shimmering black hair. Though she isn’t doing anything particularly provocative, nothing more than stand with a basket tucked under one arm as she speaks to an older woman, there is a sensuality in her every movement that Nuriel cannot ignore, from the way she curves her hip outward to support the basket to how her face lights up as she laughs.

Nuriel feels her breath leave her. She used to scoff at sailors who would describe the madness that would take a man who had been at sea too long without the touch of a woman. After all, sure, women were pretty, and kissing them was probably fun, but have some self-control, man!

But now that she too had been away from civilization on a small boat filled with ugly men with no pretty girls to look at, Nuriel finally understands, and she cannot help but stand and let her thirsting eyes drink in the sight of this glorious creature.

The beautiful girl finishes her conversation and turns away from the woman. In doing so, she catches sight of Nuriel staring at her. Nuriel feels her heart leap and tells herself to look away, but for some reason cannot move her gaze.

The girl’s perfect brow furrows, and her dark eyes roll with what was no doubt annoyance with another slobbering sailor unable to keep from ogling pretty girls. She starts to turn away, but then pauses.

And the next thing Nuriel knows, the girl is staring right back at her, her lovely mouth curving up into a smile of delight.

Nuriel’s cheeks flush, and she finally turns away to hurry back to the ship.

As she rounds the corner to head down into the cargo hold, she hears someone chuckle. “I saw that, lad,” says a gruff voice.

It’s Mr. Gagne, the ship’s quartermaster. An older, roguish man with close-cropped black hair and a cleft in his jaw, he always struck Nuriel as someone not to suffer fools, so Nuriel always did what she could to avoid upsetting him. During the whole of the voyage, he probably spoke less than a dozen words to her that weren’t short, gruff instructions.

So why was he speaking to her now?

In answer to his comment, Nuriel merely blinks up at him in confusion.

Mr. Gagne’s normally stern face now bears a small and knowing smile. “I saw you staring at that pretty girl. Been a while, ain’t it, lad?”

Damn it, was she really that obvious?

Blushing with embarrassment, Nuriel turns to leave, for once thankful for her inability to speak, as it provides an excellent excuse not to answer.

But rather than let her go, Mr. Gagne clamps a hand down on her shoulder, stopping her. She cannot keep from flinching at the unwanted touch, but she resists the urge to yank herself away.

“I also saw the way she was looking at you,” he says. He gently pushes his fist into her shoulder. “Maybe you should do something about that.”

Nuriel winces, and, without looking up to meet his eyes, miserably shakes her head.

Mr. Gagne sighs. “I know not speaking is kind of a problem. But just because you’re dumb don’t make you useless. You can find a way to charm her without words. And you should.”

Then Mr. Gagne pats her shoulders and is on his way.

Nuriel mulls over his words as she goes and finds another box to carry out. Of course she ought not to go seek out the girl. Even if she could speak, the girl thinks that she is a boy, and will likely not take kindly to the truth.

But…

But what if she doesn’t? What if she doesn’t reject Nuriel? What if she is still interested?

Nuriel shakes her head. No, that is a silly line of thought. Even if the girl is that…open-minded, how would Nuriel even begin to woo her? She didn’t have any experience with that sort of thing, even if she could speak.

Regardless, when Nuriel walks back onto the dock, the girl is gone.

Nuriel’s eyes again opened. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the fear, maybe it was the solitude, but she felt flushed, almost feverish but without illness. A smoldering warmth was growing within her, heat building deep within between her thighs.

She licked her dry lips and turned over onto her side. She knew what it was, of course. It had been years since she had first bled, and was quite accustomed to feeling the warmth of arousal, especially during whatever brief moments of peace she happened to encounter.

Nuriel usually ignored them. She lived life on a razor’s edge and could afford neither distraction nor exposure. The temptation was sweet and seductive, but she knew better to give in, not because of sin, because let us be frank, what those stuck-up cloth-wearers liked to proclaim sin and blasphemy was no less than what they enjoyed behind closed doors, but because it would cause her to drop her guard, making her vulnerable. She had seen grown men, many of them smarter and more experienced than her, end up losing everything because they could not resist a pretty face, and she would not let it happen to her.

But it had to be admitted that there had been a few times, only a scant number, when the burning had become too much to ignore, and she had found herself slipping her fingers down the front of her trousers in the dark of whatever secluded hole she happened to be hiding in at the time. And ever since that night and that girl, those moments of weakness were ever harder to push away.

With a long, slow breath, Nuriel curled up into a ball and closed her eyes. She tried to think of something else to take her mind off the fire that was starting to burn inside her loins.

Maybe she ought to think of what to do about the Carmilla’s Fancy. Sure, it was an ideal base camp, but there were improvements that could be made, alterations to make it a little more homey. Perhaps she could figure out how to make some kind of rope ladder, or patch up the holes, maybe even do something with the now-abandoned captain’s quarters, such as cover up that broken window, do something about the smell, and make some kind of bed so she didn’t have to sleep on a hard, cold floor…

And the girl is there, lying with her in the captain’s cot, hand roaming over Nuriel’s cheek while Nuriel’s own fingers explore her curves. They kiss each other sweetly in the dark, while the gentle sound of the rain outside lulls them both to sleep…

Again Nuriel’s eyes snapped open. She let out a low whimper of frustration and, well, arousal, as her thighs squirm against each other in discomfort.

This wasn’t working. She couldn’t come up with a way to distract herself that wouldn’t turn toward the burning need that continued to grow inside of her.

Maybe it was the boredom making her restless. Maybe it was the long solitude, being trapped in the ship’s hull. Maybe it was the general fear and unease of her predicament keeping her on edge. Maybe whatever the red-eyed monster had used to heal her had some…interesting side-effects. But she just couldn’t shake free from the boiling lust clouding her head and setting every inch of her aflame!

Then Nuriel frowned.

Why resist? She was in no danger of being discovered. She was on a forgotten island of monsters and mysteries, and the only other “person” with her already knew where she was. And with the rain being what it was, she was going nowhere for a long time. Why not indulge?

Because it would be wrong. Because succumbing even once to temptation, even in a moment of relative peace and safety, would make it more difficult to resist in the future. Because she had to stay ever vigilant and not give in to-

The feel of the girl’s soft lips as they brush her own, the burning trails in Nuriel’s skin left by the girl’s fingertips as she slides her hands up under the hem of Nuriel’s shirt…

Fuck it.

Swallowing, Nuriel reached down with one hand. Her fingers were trembling and clumsy, but she managed to hook into the ties of her trousers and loosen them. From there, she slid her hand down her trousers’ front. The small, thin patch of hair tickled her palm, and she closed her fingers down over her mound. The small bud of her clit pressed against her palm, already erect and throbbing with need.

The touch is enough to send shivers ripple over her skin, eliciting a small gasp. Taking in one deep, shuddering breath after another, Nuriel started to move her fingers, caressing the moistening folds as she closed her eyes again.

A hand comes down on Nuriel’s arm.

Startled, she pulls back with a small squeak of surprise, whirling around to face her assailant.

Then she sees dark eyes and gorgeous smile. The girl is there, the same one from the docks, now wearing a simple wraparound garment that leaves her shoulders bare.

But how? Why? How did she get there? How did she know how to find Nuriel?

“Surprised?” the girl says. Though she pronounces the word well, her inflection and accent tells Nuriel that English is perhaps not her native tongue. It does not matter, as her voice is sweet and rich and full of promise.

“I saw you at the docks,” the girl says by way of explanation. “And I know you saw me.” Tilting her head, she lets one hand slide down her side. “And I think you liked what you saw, did you not, little cabin boy?”

Swallowing hard, it is all Nuriel could do to nod.

“Hmmm.” Then the girl nods over to one of the local men, who is laughing raucously at something the first mate said. “That is my cousin. And I told him, well, you will go be with your friends from that ship, yes? Well, there is a pretty cabin boy with them I want to see. And my cousin, he understands. Many men would not, but he does, and he says to me, the pretty cabin boy will be gone tomorrow, why go see what you cannot keep? And I say, all more the reason to go see the pretty cabin boy now.”

Then the girl moves her hand to Nuriel’s, squeezing her fingers. Nuriel freezes at the warm touch. The last person to hold her hand had been Papa, and that usually only happened when they needed to move now and move quickly! Now that she is alone, being touched is unwelcome at best and a sure sign of bad things to come.

But as the tingles shoot up her arm to sprinkle down her back, Nuriel finds herself not wanting to pull away. In fact, she kind of wants to be touched more.

The girl gives Nuriel’s hand an insistent tug and tilts her head toward the shadowed part of the beach, her impish smile gleaming even in the darkness.

For a brief moment, Nuriel has no idea what is being offered. The girl wants her to go with her…why? Where? To do what? Puzzled, she tilts her head, her brow furrowed.

Rolling her eyes, the girl tilts her head again, with greater emphasis this time.

And then Nuriel gets it, and the realization causes her breath to catch and her spine to froze. No. Sure the girl couldn’t mean that, could she?

Seeing the look on Nuriel’s face, the girl’s wry smile becomes amused. She chuckles, a light, throaty sound that is honey-sweet to Nuriel’s ears.

Excitement mixing with panic and uncertainty, Nuriel glances around, hoping for some direction. Mr. Gagne is sitting nearby, idly nursing a bottle of rum, and to Nuriel’s chagrin, he is watching Nuriel slyly out of the corner of his eye.

But how long was he watching her? Does he know what is going on?

Catching Nuriel’s eye, he slowly nods and inclines his head as well. The message is clear. Go with her, you daft idiot.

Nuriel’s eyes widens, and she looks back to the girl, who is now looking quite smug. She stands up and tugs once again on Nuriel’s hand, and this time, Nuriel goes with her.

Nuriel winced as her stomach clenched up. Just the act of indulging in the memory of that night was stoking the fires in her loins as much as the movement of her fingers was. Biting down on her lower lip, she squeezes her thighs together, pressing her hand down harder.

One hand wrapped around Nuriel’s and the other holding the neck of a rum bottle, the girl leads Nuriel away from the bonfire, away from the voices, into the night. Soon the chill of the night air replaces the warmth of the fire, raising goosebumps on Nuriel’s skin, and the sound of the crew’s chatter and singing are muted by the crashing of the surf.

There is a cluster of large boulders splitting the beach in half. The girl takes Nuriel past the boulders so that they give the two of them some privacy, cutting them off from any prying eyes. As soon as they had climbed over the rough rocks and touched down onto the soft sand beyond, the girl suddenly turns around and pushes herself into Nuriel. Startled, Nuriel backs up until she is stopped by the rocks, but the girl doesn’t stop pressing into her. She leans in, planting hot, wet kisses onto Nuriel’s neck and shoulder, and Nuriel, who never had been kissed in her life, is so stupefied that she can do nothing but stand still and let her.

Then with a soft sigh, the girl backs away. “You are quite the blusher, you know that?” she murmurs. “Even in the dark I can see.”

Nuriel nervously swallows.

“Come.”

The girl gently pulls on Nuriel’s wrist, drawing her away from the rocks. She then releases Nuriel’s hand to press a single finger against the top of Nuriel’s chest, guiding her down. Nuriel tries to sit, but she seems to have forgotten how to properly move her legs, and they give way from under her, causing her to drop roughly onto her ass.

The girl laughs. She then kneels down and leans forward, laying one hand in the sand next to Nuriel while the other moves toward Nuriel’s chest.

It is then that a surge of horror breaks through the smoldering desire muddling Nuriel’s brain, and she freezes in fear. Oh fucking Christ, how could she have been so stupid? The girl thought that Nuriel was a boy! And if this kept up, there was no way Nuriel wouldn’t be exposed! She is taking her own life into her hands! Literally!

She panics, jerking away from the girl’s touch and scrambling back on her elbows. But before she can get to her feet to flee, she heard the girl sigh. Then a hand grabs onto the leg of her trousers, stopping her.

Nuriel glances back, eyes wide and heart beating fast. The girl had one lovely eyebrow cocked, her lips lifted in a wry manner. “I know,” she says. “Of course I know. You think I cannot tell another girl when I see one?”

Wait, what?

“You are not the first girl to come through here, trying to pass off as boy,” the girl continues. She reaches up to brush the back of her fingers down Nuriel’s trembling face. “I knew from the second I saw you.”

She did? Was Nuriel’s disguise really that bad? But that would mean-

“Those men you sail with only see what they want to see. They see what they expect to see: a soft boy to order around and do what they do not want to do. But I see what is.” Tilting her head, the girl slides her hand down to rest it on the back of Nuriel’s neck. “You are like me, yes? Not just girl, but girl who likes pretty things, yes?” She smiles that beautiful smile, the one that catches the breath in Nuriel’s throat and sends her heart pattering. “Girl who cares not for the touch of man, girl who shivers at the touch of other girl, yes?”

There is a pause, and Nuriel slowly nods.

“I thought so. Well then, pretty little cabin boy, let me give you a moment of honesty.” Her hand pulling Nuriel’s head forward, the girl closes her eyes and leans in, her lips parted and ready.

Nuriel’s hand paused. Tears were starting to well up in her eyes. As beloved as that night was to her, this part of the memory hurt the most, and yet was the part she most treasured.

Nuriel finds herself responding, leaning in as well. But when she feels the girl’s soft lips brush her own, suddenly the floodgates within her mind are opened, unleashing a torrent of darkness and pain.

The cold steel is forced into her mouth, holding her jaws apart.

Nuriel jerks back with a gasp, her hands clapped over her mouth. No, no, no. Not this. Not now.

The crushing grip of the pincers squeezing down on her tongue and yank it out of her mouth.

“What is wrong?” the girl asks. “Did I frighten you?”

Shaking her head, Nuriel turns away so that the girl won’t see the look of grief and shame on her face.

The agonizing feel of the heated steel blade, both cutting and burning as it slices through Nuriel’s tongue and sears the back of her throat. She screams and screams and screams, but the pain doesn’t stop, the cutting doesn’t stop, until-

Sobbing, Nuriel covers her face as the useless stump in her mouth throbs with ghost pain. Why did it have to happen now? Was it because she dropped her guard? Was this her punishment for not being more careful.

And then a slender hand gently lays itself on her shoulder. “What is wrong?” the girl says. “What happened to you?”

Oh God, she knows. She may not know exactly what had happened, but she knows of the hurt Nuriel was carrying around. Damn it, damn it, damn it! That is what she gets for letting herself become vulnerable!

The girl touches Nuriel’s cheek and draws her face around so she can see it. “Please, tell me,” she insists. The sultriness in her eyes is gone, replaced by nothing but concern and compassion.

Nuriel almost turns away again, almost pushes her away. She already went too far, opened herself up too much. To expose herself any further would only make her even more vulnerable. Father would give her one hell of a tongue-lashing were he alive.

But instead, for reasons even she doesn’t fully understand, Nuriel just stares deep into the girl’s dark eyes. Then, with a harsh swallow, she opens her mouth and pulls her cheeks apart to show her.

The girl frowns in puzzlement. Tilting her head, she leans in for a better look, something that is no doubt difficult in the dark.

But then she sees.

“Oh, shit,” she gasps, covering her mouth. “Your tongue!”

Closing her mouth, Nuriel swallows again at the lump in her throat and nods.

“What…Who would…” Then the girl’s eyes narrow, and she looks back to the bonfire. “Did they do that to you?”

Oh God, she thought the crew were responsible! Nuriel hastily and emphatically shakes her head.

“Then who?”

Oh, that was a story too long, too complicated, and too painful to tell even if Nuriel could speak. She slowly lets out a long, shuddering breath, and then spreads her hands apart.

“Large…No, long. It happened a long time ago?”

Nuriel nods.

Sighing, the girl leans back on her haunches and shakes her head. “I am sorry,” she says simply. “I did not know you had been hurt so. It must have been a very, very evil person.”

A small sob shakes Nuriel’s shoulders. A very, very evil person indeed.

There is an awkward pause, and then the girls asks, “Would you like to stop? Is it too painful?”

She ought to say yes. Nuriel ought to stop things now, to compose herself and return to the ship. That would be the safer course of action.

Instead, she finds herself shaking her head. Safer, perhaps, but she doesn’t want to do that. Instead, she wants…she wants…

“I understand. Then, shall I comfort you?”

That. She wants that.

Nuriel sniffs and nods.

The girls says nothing in response. She merely leans in, and instead of caressing or kissing her, she wraps her arms around Nuriel and holds her tight. Nuriel clenches up a bit at the unfamiliar touch, but she doesn’t draw back. Part of her is scared, yes, and part of her wants to run away and hide. But so much of her wants this and wants this badly, yearning to hold someone warm and kind and be held in turn.

Nuriel gingerly and stiffly encircles her arms around the girl, clasping her hands behind the girls back. It takes her some time to work up the nerve, but she tightens her arms around the girl’s middle.

It is Nuriel’s first time being held like that. Though she knows that Papa loved her and did his best to take care of her in his own way, he wasn’t one to show it like that, the few times he actually hugged her being few and far between. He did hold her tight the night that her tongue was cut out, and more times afterward. But his death came not long after, and Nuriel was left alone.

She thought that she had everything under control. She thought that she recovered and was steady in her mind and heart.

Clearly, she knew nothing.

Nuriel clings to the girl, the stranger whose name she doesn’t even know, holding onto her as if doing so could save her. Tears continue to stream down her face, tears that she normally would push back but now simply let run free. A reservoir is being emptied, one of pain, of grief, and of loneliness, one that she didn’t even know she was carrying around.

And the girl lets her. Though she doesn’t know Nuriel, though they probably won’t even see each other again after tonight, she continues to hold onto the strange girl without a tongue, letting her cry.

Then the girl parts from her. She draws her hand down the side of Nuriel’s face, brushing away her tears, and cups her cheek. “Maybe you won’t taste this,” she says. “But you will feel it.”

As the two lock eyes, the girl lifts up the bottom of rum with her other hand, pulls out the cork with her teeth, and takes a long drink. Despite everything that is going on, Nuriel is impressed, as the strong drink doesn’t even make her wince.

Lowering the bottle, the girl smiles, the mischievous twinkle in her eye visible even in the dark. It is clear that she did not swallow, as her cheeks are puffed out.

This time, when she moves in to kiss Nuriel, Nuriel doesn’t pull back or resist. The reflexive tightening of her gut and the urge to flee again rise up, but she fights them, letting the girl press her lovely mouth against her own.

Though there was much about that night that Nuriel held dear, it was that first kiss that burned the brightest in her memory, a moment of intimacy that still left her lips tingling to that day. Warm pleasure rippled out from her core from the memory alone, causing her back to arch.

Shivering with feverish delight, Nuriel pulled her hand out from her trousers and braced her back against a wooden beam. She loosened her trousers’ bindings even further and pulled them down off her hips and past her thighs, the wetness on her naked flesh chilling in the night air, a sharp contrast to the heat just beneath her skin. Then, settling back on her bare buttocks, she again pressed her hand back onto her yearning sex as she let the echoes of the best night of her life wash back over her.

As their mouths make contact, Nuriel feels the strength leave her, and she lets the kiss melt into, leaning back onto her elbows as the girl presses her body into Nuriel’s.

At first Nuriel really isn’t sure how to properly respond, so she tries to copy what the girl’s mouth is doing with her own. The movements of her lips are clumsy and amateurish, but the girl doesn’t seem to mind.

Then Nuriel feels something slick and warm slip in-between her lips. It’s the girl’s tongue, pushing and probing its way into Nuriel’s mouth.

Was this a normal part of kissing? Nuriel didn’t know, and with no tongue of her own she surely couldn’t respond in kind. So she did the only thing she could do: lean back and let the girl do whatever she wanted.

The girl’s tongue parts Nuriel’s lips, and then Nuriel feels warm rum flood from the girl’s mouth into her own. The harsh alcohol burns her mouth, and of course Nuriel can’t taste it. And yet, it is somehow sweet.

She swallows. It burns, yes, but it also warms, giving Nuriel courage to press on. She presses herself harder against the girl, intoxicated as much by the smell of her as she is from the alcohol. She smells of spices mingled with the salty air, as sweet and sharp as cinnamon.

Then the girl places a hand on Nuriel’s chest, right over her heart. She gives a gentle push, and Nuriel is more than happy to comply, letting herself be pressed down flat on her back in the sand. She stretches her torso across Nuriel’s, heart-to-heart, and kisses her again. Nuriel lets out a small groan of pleasure.

The girl then sits back on Nuriel’s lap, legs straddling her to either side, her sensual smile reflecting the moonlight, her midnight-black hair like a veil framed by the stars in the night sky.

In that moment, she looks like a goddess.

As Nuriel stares in awe, the girl reaches up to take the edge of the wraparound garment she’s wearing. A few tugs, and it loosens around her torso.

Nuriel’s heartrate quickens. Oh, it’s happening, it’s really happening.

Not taking averting her eyes from Nuriel’s and without even a hint of shame or embarrassment, the girl gives her garment a small push from the top, and it down, sliding down off of her, unveiling the perfection beneath.

Nuriel can’t keep from gasping a little. She never even dreamed something like this could happen to her, and yet here she is, lying back beneath a starry sky as a beautiful girl undressed for her.

Obviously enjoying Nuriel’s reaction, the girl lounges back a little, turning so that her breasts, small but perfectly shaped, are silhouetted against the stars. Nuriel’s fingers involuntarily clench, digging furrows in the sand.

Sighing, the girl leans forward, lowering her body back down onto Nuriel’s. “You can touch me, if you like,” she murmurs as she nuzzles her face into where Nuriel’s neck met her shoulder, planting small kisses on Nuriel’s freckled skin.

Nuriel’s nods, and she gingerly lifts her hands and settles them on the small of the girl’s naked back. Her skin is silky smooth, with a slight covering of sweat. She moves them upward, finally clasping them behind the girl’s shoulders.

“That is it?” the girl says in mock-disappointment. “Why do you not touch me…here?”

And then, before Nuriel could fully comprehend what is about to happen, the girl grabs Nuriel’s arm and rises up, pulling Nuriel’s hands around and pushing them into her breasts.

Nuriel sucks in air between her teeth. Oh. Oh yes. So soft, and yet so firm, with the stiff nubs of the girl’s tiny nipples pressing into her palm. She squeezed her hands in, digging them into the soft mounds, and judging by the throaty moan, it was clear that the girl was quite enjoying the experience.

And then the girl lays her hand on Nuriel’s own chest. “Hmmm,” she says. “This feels…ah. Of course you would.”

She would? She would what? What was Nuriel doing.

“Please keep doing what you’re doing,” the girl says as she coyly fingers the top button of Nuriel’s shirt. “This will not take long.”

Nodding, Nuriel continues to knead the girl’s breasts, one hand squeezing the flesh it held while the other pinched the nipple while the girl unbuttons Nuriel’s shirt, starting from the top and working her way down, uncovering her little by little.

She reaches the bottom and slips her fingers in under hem. Leaning forward again, she places another kiss on Nuriel’s lips as she slides her fingers up, parting her shirt to either side.

Then she sits back, her hands coming up and gently pushing Nuriel’s hands away from her breasts. Taking the hint, Nuriel lets them fall to either side.

“A shame you have to hide like so,” the girl murmurs as she reaches down to slide a single finger over the linen binding Nuriel’s chest. “I understand, but tonight, no disguises, yes?”

Nuriel slowly nods.

“Good. Now, sit up a little, please.”

Nuriel struggles to obey, propping herself up on her elbows. The girl runs her hand over Nuriel’s belly, sending shivers across Nuriel’s skin, and reaches behind Nuriel’s back, arms going into her shirt. Her fingers find the edge of the linen wrapping, and she works to loosen it.

Remaining perfectly still, Nuriel stares up at the beautiful girl as she is slowly unwrapped. Finally the girl finishes peeling the linen off from Nuriel’s chest and sets it aside, exposing more of her to the cold. Then she smiles down at what she sees.

Given her lifestyle, Nuriel never gave much thought to her own breasts, save to find them annoying when she had to tie them up. They weren’t large; in fact they were smaller than the girl currently undressing her, but it did not pay to become complacent.

But now, as the girl looks appreciatively down at her exposed chest, Nuriel suddenly finds herself quite fond of them. No one ever looked at her like that before.

The girl playfully drags a finger over Nuriel’s chest, circling around one breast and then the other. Then she takes the slight mount in her hand and bends over to close her mouth over one tiny, pink nipple.

Nuriel squirms and gasps in ecstasy. The girl sucks and kisses the hard nub, swirling her tongue around its base and kissing its peak. Then she moves her mouth over to the other breast and does the same, leaving the first blanketed in her warm saliva.

Nuriel is again on the verge of tears, but not from any buried pain or shame, but from the waves of hot arousal surging through her young body. She never felt anything like this before, never imagined that it could be so good.

When she woke up that morning, she was a girl pretending to be a boy. And soon she would have to go back to being that. But for now, for this brief moment of pleasure, of vulnerability, of exposure, of naked honesty, for the first time in her life she is a woman.

The girl again sits up, a shimmering trail of spit clinging from Nuriel’s tinging nipple to her lips, and wipes her mouth. Nuriel blinks her eyes, trying to clear her head. As wonderful as that felt, she doesn’t want to miss a thing.

The girl reaches down and takes the hem of the garment lying around her waist and slowly opens it up, revealing the rest of her. Despite the drink she had just taken, Nuriel now finds her mouth quite dry. Her eyes roam down the girl’s splendidly naked body, from the small hills of her breasts down the smoothness of her belly to the dark patch that lay nestled between her thighs. The girl was sitting back on Nuriel’s lap, her round buttocks resting on Nuriel’s own thighs, while her beautiful pussy lay so tantalizingly close to the bare skin of Nuriel’s stomach.

Then the girl slides back off of Nuriel’s lap down between her legs. She gets onto all fours, the curve of he rear sticking into the air, and lowers her top half down over Nuriel’s waist. Running her fingers over Nuriel’s lap, she mischievously played with the laces, flicking them back and forth, before finally untying them. One they were loose, she grabs onto the waistline and pulls them down, baring her thighs. The familiar warmth of her trousers was suddenly replaced by the open air above and the cool coarseness of the sand below, digging into her ass. Just the feel of the air against her wet skin send thrills of excitement singing through her.

Unable to wipe the silly grin off of her face, Nuriel craned her neck to watch as her trousers were tugged down past her thighs, down to her knees. Leaving it at that, the girl then runs her hand over Nuriel’s thighs and traces the contours of her groin.

Nuriel’s abdominals clench up in anticipation. Sweet Jesus, this is actually happening. This is-

Her eyes closing, the girl lowers her head down between Nuriel’s legs, her warm breath tickling the hairs.

And then she finally feels it, the heat and wetness of the girl’s tongue probing at her sex.

“Nnngguhhh!”

Nuriel’s hips bucked as she came, warm arousal flooding her palm. She hissed sharply, her back arching, thrusting her sex into her own hand, riding out the first orgasm she had been permitted in months.

The waves of bliss rise and crash, rise and crash, until finally the beautiful torture subsides, leaving a comfortable ache in its wake. Panting, Nuriel removed her hand and let it drop to the floor.

For a time it was all she could do to just lay there, feeling drained, sticky, but relieved. It was like finally being able to scratch a persistent itch at the bottom of her foot, one she had been unable to reach because she never had the opportunity to remove her boot. It feels like heavy stones had been rolled off her shoulders, and she could finally lie down and rest.

She had felt the same that night. When all was said and done, and she and the girl, whose name Nuriel still didn’t know, had laid together in each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow, sleep had come upon her so quickly that she hadn’t even realized that she was tired until she was waking up the next morning, still sprawled out on the beach.

When she did, the girl had been gone.

Nuriel had panicked then, convinced that it had all been a set-up, that the girl had led her away, gained her trust, and seduced her only to rob her after.

And yet, upon frenzied inspection, Saint George remained in his hidden sheath, and the few coins that she had secreted upon her body were still there. The girl had even taken the time to replaced Nuriel’s bindings and button up her shirt, leaving her disguise intact.

But she was still gone.

There had been many leering grins and knowing looks when Nuriel had returned to the Periwinkle. Mr. Gagne had slapped her on the back, and some of the crew had cheered. Nuriel’s had been flushed with embarrassment, but she had also felt somewhat proud. Regardless of what they knew about her, the crew had still been proud of her, and she appreciated that.

Even so, she had never seen the girl again. But she never, ever forgot her.

Gradually the blissful haze started to dissipate from her mind, and she started to feel her strength return. Sighing happily, she lifted her ass and pulled her trousers back up, though she left the ties undone. Then she lay down flat on the ground, curled up into as comfortable position as she could, and let herself drift off, hoping that if she dreamed, it would be of that girl.

As the soft drumming of the rain lulled her back to sleep, Nuriel found herself wondering if her new red-eyed friend had been watching.

…

When Nuriel’s eyes opened again, rain no longer pounded against the Carmilla’s Fancy’s hull, and light was streaming in from the various cracks and holes.

Blinking, she slowly straightened up. A knot in her neck made her wince, as did the looseness of her right arm, which she had apparently slept on. What was more, her head was throbbing, probably thanks to that wine. Massaging her neck with her left hand while she shook some life into her right, she looked around.

It was day, and the storm was over. Outside she could hear the sound of seabirds mingling with the surf.

She had survived.

As the rest of her body woke up, Nuriel took notice of something interesting. Her friend had again returned. The basket was once again full of fruit. What was more, it was joined by a smaller basket. She leaned forward to look inside.

Inside were several chunks of some kind of cooked meat. Fish, from the smell, though whoever had done the cooking hadn’t been very good at it, as it seemed like they had simply torn out chunks and charred them over a fire. She gingerly reached down and prodded on especially blackened piece. It was still a little warm, so it hadn’t been there for that long.

Nuriel shrugged. Who cared? Taste never mattered to her anyway.

She scarfed down breakfast, shoveling handfuls of burnt and greasy fish and chunks of wild fruit into her mouth.

As she did, she took note of the two wine bottles, now sitting upright near the baskets. She grabbed one and sloshed it around. It was full.

Good.

Nuriel swallowed her mouthful and took a sip.

A second later she coughed. She had been expecting wine, but instead it was only water.

Well, whatever. It was probably for the best. Wine was good for when she needed to rest, but water was what she needed now. Her throat was parched, and her head hurt. She drank deep, enjoying the feeling of her throat being wetted almost as much as she had enjoyed her own wetness the night before.

Almost.

Moments later Nuriel had gone through both baskets and drank a bottle and a half. She sat back, feeling better than she had in a good long while. Her hurts were healed, her belly was full, her throat was wetted, and even her headache was clearing up.

Feeling cheered, Nuriel slowly rose to her feet. They wobbled, but held.

Then she noticed that the note that the red-eyed monster had left her was still there, lying near where she had slept.

Frowning, she knelt down and picked it up. It was still very long, and though it was obviously by the same hand that had left her that first note, this one was hurried, almost frantic.

Well, reading it would be difficult enough even in the shadows of the ship’s cargo space. Nuriel ascended the steps, braced her shoulder against the hatch, and shoved it open.

The bright light of the sun made her wince, and certainly did the receding throb in her head no favors. Squinting, Nuriel walked out onto the deck and looked around.

It was either late morning or early afternoon. The sun was high, and the sky clear. All in all, it was a very lovely day, and the view was astounding.

If one were to overlook all of the monsters out there looking to eat her, of course.

Nuriel blinked until her eyes had adjusted. Then she sat down in the sunlight to try to decipher the letter.

Her reading skills were quite rusty, and never that thorough to begin with. And the hand that wrote it had done so…quickly. Still, the letters were large, so it was clear that the writer really wanted to get the message across.

After some time she managed to get the gist of it. It went a little something like this.

I am so, so, SO sorry I scared you. That was not my (here was a long word that she had to really spell out, but she felt that it was probably “intention”) at all. Please (another long word, something-“stand”) that I am not a threat. I swear by my blood (by its blood? Was that some kind of Pagan oath?) that I mean you no harm. You have nothing to fear from me.

Nuriel frowned. That was unlikely.

But please, please, PLEASE (here the word was written so large that it was nearly the size of the preceding paragraph) never do anything that (um, what was this word? Something-less, starts with an “r”) ever again! The island is (damn it, another big word! Dan…dangger…no, danger! Dangerous!) at night! Well, it is dangerous at day, but even more at night!

Well, on that, Nuriel agreed.

I drove the birds away from the ship, and made sure they will not return. But they are active at night, and if you go out too far, I cannot stop them from hunting you! Nor any of the other (mon…mon…Mondays? No, wait, monsters! Of course it was monsters. Why hadn’t she known that? She had certainly had the word repeating in her mind over and over again lately!) that hunt in the dark.

Nuriel breathed out. It sounded like her red-eyed friend was telling her to stay put at night, to not leave the ship. And Nuriel didn’t care for that. She wasn’t one to appreciate being told to stay or stay out of anywhere.

Then again, considering what had happened the last time she had left the ship when the moon was out…

I know I have given you little reason to trust me, and I am sorry for that. If you wish for me to leave you alone, I will do so. But I have been trapped alone on this island for a very long time, and never (ex…expe..expected!) to share it with such a brave, (cutting? Did the letter just call her cutting? No, wait, those were n’s. Cunning. Was that even a word?), and, if you do not mind me saying, (here was another long word, but Nuriel recognized it immediately, and it made her groan a little) beautiful young fighter such as yourself.

Despite everything, Nuriel couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Great, flattery.

I have been watching you from afar, and you really are quite (another long word that started with “ex,” one that Nuriel couldn’t even begin to guess at. Probably some kind of silly compliment)! Please, it would break my heart to see you come to harm especially in response to me.

If you wish for me to go, then I will do so, never to step foot near the Carmilla’s Fancy ever again. I would not blame you if that were to be the case. There would be no hard feelings.

But, if you would permit me to continue to keep watch over you, I think you would find me very useful. You needn’t even see me. I will stay out of sight, bringing what you need while you sleep and keeping the monsters away.

Again Nuriel frowned. She didn’t like the thought of anyone or anything strange doing stuff while she slept, regardless of what it was.

But again, if you’d rather I not, then I would understand.

Just please promise me that you will stay safe.

Please.

And at the bottom was a flourished signature, one that Nuriel couldn’t even begin to decipher, other than it also began with an “N.”

Breathing out, Nuriel slowly lowered the paper. She sat down cross-legged on the deck and thought.

Clearly the red-eyed monster was a strange one. It was not human; that much was obvious. But Nuriel was no longer convinced that it was some kind of malicious demon. She still didn’t trust her unsettling friend, if that truly what it was, but she didn’t feel as threatened by it either.

But what to do? What if she grew complacent, came to rely on the red-eyed monster’s gifts, and it cost Nuriel her soul? What if in accepting its help she ended up damned?

You already ate its food, came the reply from the back of her mind. You already drank its wine and accepted its gifts. In for a penny…

Nuriel shivered, but she had no retort.

You tried to flee, and it almost got you killed. It was only because of the demon that you still live. And if your stubbornness kills you, then what good would your purity do? You will be burning in Hell regardless.

That was true. That was very true.

Nuriel looked down at the letter. It was true, there was nothing more dangerous than the attention of another person, and whatever this thing was, it was clear that Nuriel had its full attention. And yet, if it weren’t for that attention, she would be dead.

But what if that was the point? What if the red-eyed monster was lulling her into a false sense of security, to make Nuriel reliant on its help? What if she became too accustomed to its gifts and protection? She might as well put the collar around her own neck for it!

On the other hand, there was literally nothing stopping it from taking her by force if it wanted to. Anything capable of driving off the razor-birds and keeping the other monsters away would have no trouble subduing one small girl. It wouldn’t need to get her to drop her guard; it only needed to act, and she would be helpless to stop it.

Still, there were many stories that claimed that for all their power, creatures such as demons, the Fair Folk, spirits, and the like were bound by certain rules, and could only act according to those rules. That was why so many stories were based around them disguising themselves and engaging in some kind of trickery in order to steal souls, because they would be unable otherwise.

But again, what good would her soul do her if she were torn to pieces, if she were to starve to death, if she were to be fall sick to infection or some strange, exotic disease?

It was a puzzler, one that Nuriel had to be very careful in solving. She sat down and thought for a very long time.

Then, after nearly an hour, Nuriel stood. She walked over to the captain’s cabin and looked inside.

It was still empty, bereft of bloodthirsty birds, but the chest remained. Squatting in front of it, Nuriel perused its remaining contents until she found what she was looking for: a piece of charcoal, a hammer, and a nail. Then she turned the note over to where there was still some blank space and with unpracticed hands jotted out two rough words.

That done, she pressed the note to the side of the ruined mast and used the hammer to drive the nail through, pinning the note in place. The red-eyed monster was sure to return, and when it did the note would be waiting for it.

Nuriel’s message simply read, “THANK YOU.”