Chapter 5: Chapter 5

When I come to, I’m confused. A lot of different sensations slam into me at once, causing total brain malfunction.

But it’s when a heavy force of water crashes over my head that I really jolt out of this brain fog.

~Oh noooo.~

My eyes take in a vast black sea. The sheer dominance of it is knee-buckling. I’m shaking, my lungs are constricting, and I feel a scream rise out of my throat.

The sound is lost.

We spawn onto the smallest F-ING raft, in the middle of the biggest F-ING sea I have ever seen! No land in sight.

The water looks dark and monstrous, probably harboring the Kraken and other horrifying sea legends. Every so often, I can feel deep vibrations that course their way up my body, heightening my panic.

~What in the holy Moses was that?!~

The angry sea is drenching my body, making me gasp for air as I try to hold on for dear life.

My nails are digging into the handles conveniently provided on top of this shitty raft so we won’t slide off. I shall remember to thank Charming for that.

Why, this is very close to tubbing on the back of a speed boat, except for the fact that if I fall off, I most likely will drown. No lifejacket.

Do the lifelines work if I scream them underwater?

I need to know this.

This raft is the size of a king-size bed. That’s not big, trust me. Mort is hissing like an alley cat, trying her best to stay in the middle of the splintery raft by pushing me dangerously to the edge.

What. The. F.

“Mort!” I swallow some water, making my throat burn from the salt. “You’re pushing me off, you idiot!” I yell as a big wave brings us almost vertical.

I gasp as the water crashes upon us like a Water World ride on Crash Mountain. How I didn’t fall off is a mystery. My little body is still clinging on for dear life. I impress myself sometimes.

Mort screeches and claws the splintery wood. “I H-HATE WATER!”

“Are you kidding me, agent Mort?!” I look at her in disdain, then violently push her to scoot over. “I’m not about to use my lifeline in the first t-ten minutes we are h-here!”

More waves crash on us, forcing an alarming amount of seawater up my nose. “Mother of Mike, that burns!” I gasp. “Where is this Apollo ship?! Screw you, Pierce!”

Great, I’m sure I look like a washed-up rat! Water coming out my nose, eyes most likely bloodshot.

Perhaps Pierce thought I was immune to crashing waves and saltwater being violently forced up my nostrils.

But by pure luck, the waves die down after ten minutes, and I can shakily go on my knees to scan the dark sea around me. This is the first time my thoughts are not ~I’M GOING TO DIE!~

A couple of steady breaths and I can process coherent thoughts.

This is real.

This is happening.

I don’t trust this sudden calm water, and the thought that I could die at any point scares the hell out of me.

My thigh-high, soft leather boots do nothing for traction, and my torn skirt is making me slip like a baby deer on ice. Worst case scenario times TEN.

I slowly sit up on shaking limbs and try not to freak out. Mort does the same, probably embarrassed of her un-agent-y antics.

The sky is stormy, swirls of black and gray with flickers of lightning. It is not raining yet, but I bet it’s about to pour hellfire. My adrenaline is pumping, making me forget the bitter cold of being soaked.

I’m on a different planet, I remind myself.

“Big, d-deep breaths, Viola,” Mort commands through chattering teeth.

I just look at her.

“Thanks, I feel much better,” I respond with sarcasm. I can feel my teeth start to chatter too, and my muscles are shaking.

Mort looks like she is typing on an invisible computer with one hand and blinking her eyes like she has computer contacts.

Really though, she looks like she has mental issues. Perhaps dropped on the head as a baby.

She glances at me and nods out in front of us. “They already see us.”

“What?”

“Their ship is invisible.”

My gaze jerks to stare in front of me, my heart pounding. “Where? Can you see them?”

“Yes, just the negative outline of it. They’re about a hundred feet to our left, trying to see who we are, most likely, before they show themselves and offer help.”

“That’s close,” I whisper, seeing nothing but endless sea. ~Wild.~

“Uh-oh.”

My head jerks toward her. “What does ‘uh-oh’ mean, Mort?” I yell, glaring at her. I am starting to shiver uncontrollably now—the wind is like ice.

“I am getting a red alert.”

“Explain before I strangle you, so help me God!” I am on an alien world in the middle of the black sea—you don’t just say that to someone.

Isn’t that like survival code or something?

She is visibly pale. That’s when I feel a hard bump on our little shit-raft. Something underneath just hit us with force, jolting me to the left. “What was that?!”

This is not happening.

“Something very large, I would say the size of a whale, but like a shark.” She was typing on her invisible computer. “And more snake-like. Confirming, but I think we are in trouble.

“We might need to use a lifeline. My scale shows they’re a seven on the danger scale. We probably have five minutes. It looks like it’s circling us.”

I just stare at her, mouth hanging open.

I can’t even.

“Give me a second, this is my first mission. I’m just getting used to this computer program.”

“This is your first mission?! Computer program?!” I scream so loud my voice cracks.

Just then, like magic, the massive three-story ship is visible, cutting through the black waters like a silver blade. It takes my breath away like someone literally punched me in the gut.

It looks like a pirate ship, but it is made from silver metal and shiny bronze. This is a pirate ship on steroids and a little acid…and maybe some meth thrown in there too.

“Holy…” I trail off.

The vessel is terrifying. I can see figures on board running up and down the main deck. Apollo is supposedly on this ship. I might be the first to see him. I wonder if they saw me yet.

Then I remind myself I probably resemble a drowned rat, and my spirits fall.

“Viola!” Mort screams.

I look back and see a high dorsal fin circling us, and I gasp. “Oh, shit, that’s big!” I realize I have taken my potty mouth to a whole new level.

Both of us are trying to sit in the middle of the raft as if that will save us. I think I’m screaming, but I am not sure. My brain is misfiring at a very crucial time.

I glance back to the ship and notice men on board yelling something to us, but I can’t make it out. “What are they saying?!”

She blinks, then blinks again. “They are telling us not to move a muscle, or we will die—something like that. They are lowering a small boat to fetch us, I believe.”

It slithers like a giant anaconda, its enormous body becoming visible on top of the water.

Oh no. What a horrid way to die.

I need to think. I try to calm my breathing to ease my shaking body. I am always good at thinking under pressure when I can calm myself. I just need a moment’s clarity.

I really don’t want to use a lifeline. Not this early. That is as bad as being on ~Who Wants to Be a Millionaire~ and using a lifeline on the first question.

“Mort, can you give me a bow?”

“On it.” She is doing the typing and blinking thing again. “I will give you one with speed-enhancing arrows.”

I look at her, shocked. A smile spreads over my lips. “Mort, you just redeemed yourself!”

She glances at me and smirks back. Holy moly, I think we just bonded.

Hopefully no one notices, but I now have a black metal bow with deadly-looking arrows strapped to my back. We are still a ways away, so I doubt it. I know what I must do, and I have to do it fast.

I stand up, rocking the raft to gain balance, and ignore the yells from the men trying to make their way to us. This is suddenly awesome. I don’t need Apollo’s men because I forgot that I’m a badass!

The shark-snake disappears underwater for a moment, then comes back up, charging us.

Now or never.

I stare. That is one frightening-looking SOB. Its teeth look to be a foot long and tinged black. Horrifying.

“Kill the bastard,” Mort hisses beside me, making me grin.

“From my calculation, your skill level is that of a sixty-year-old man/woman. That’s how long it would take you to master your current skill level in archery. You should be able to hit it.”

Charming hooked it uuuuuuuup.

I have my bow ready and aimed. Time slows, allowing me to aim at the rapidly moving sea monster to almost a standstill.

I can feel my whole body tingle, my mind going into an altered state of AWESOME. Aiming is easy when they barely move.

The monster is about to dive again, and when it comes back up, I’m going to shoot it.

“Mort! Where do I shoot it?”

“Between the eyes!”

Of course.

It comes back up, and the sound of the arrow slicing through the air is like a distant woman screaming. Or maybe that was Mort—can’t be sure.

I hit my target in the dead center, making the massive sea monster jerk to the right as if it’s shocked, then it disappears underwater.

I lower my bow, my whole body on an adrenaline high.

I did it.

Mort stands up. “Like them apples, bitch?!” she screams, spit flying from her mouth, staring at the black sea with murderous intent.

“Shhhhh,” I whisper, and try to suppress my laughter. “We have company.”

She blushes, and whispers close to me, “Isn’t that how you express victory, being a human?”

I don’t have time to respond as I’m face to face with a petrifying-looking man in metal and black armor. He looks like a superhero or something from the future.

The armor has pale blue lights coursing through it like Iron Man. The giant of a man has a beard and a massive white scar gracing the left side of his face. His gaze is dark and menacing.

“Ye’ are lucky ye’ are a straight shot,” his gruff voice yells as he pulls up next to us. The small boat is powered by an unknown source. I do not hear a motor. Odd. What do they have here? Atlantis power?

“Jump on. The lipers travel ’n packs, there will be more with’n minutes.” He stretches out his large, gloved hand to us. “You just shot a pregnant mum, that is na’ good.”

More lipers?

We take his hand and jump into the small boat just as we see more dorsal fins heading our way. The rugged man controls the boat with a series of buttons and interesting small levers.

I glance back and see the lipers surrounding the raft we just left. Safe. For now. I look back at the man driving the small boat and study him. Is this Apollo?

I frown. I am not attracted to him, but he does have a rugged charm. I shouldn’t be so vain—he is probably a teddy bear on the inside.

“Mort,” I whisper. She glances at me, her face pale, her body shivering. Mort probably hates being human.

~Is that Apollo?~ I mouth to her, and nod my head in his direction.

He looks at me, and I smile, blushing a little bit. Drat. He narrows his dark eyes at me then continues to anchor the boat next to the massive ship.

Mort looks at me and scowls, shaking her head—no.

I don’t have time to feel relief. They hoist us up like we are rag dolls and force us up the ladder.

Minutes later, I find myself dumped on a hard surface, water puddling around me. I am dripping, breathing hard, and scared to look up.

I feel the tension like a cloud of thick smog, my nerves making my body shake like a scared rabbit. I have lifelines, I remind myself.

I feel Mort beside me, pinching my leg and whispering for me to get off my ass. Since when is Mort such a bossy potty mouth?

I hear murmurs and grumbles everywhere.

“Stand, woman,” the man who saved us orders, and jerks me up by the arm, hurting me. I bite my lip, keeping the hiss of pain to myself.

When I look up from under my soaked hair, I realize they are bringing other prisoners out, who are shackled at the neck and ankles. They look skinny and beaten down, and bruises mar their dirty skin.

I shiver, wondering what kind of hell they must have endured. Mort stands on her own, and soon there is a long line of us.

Dear God, am I considered a prisoner? Is a slave any different here?

I swallow a moan back down my throat and will myself to stand firm. I flinch as I gaze at all the men in front of me, with their muscular forms and armored bodies.

On their uniforms is a large G with a pointed line down the middle. Simple but strong—intimidating. They do not look like a friendly lot. Wouldn’t want to golf with them on a Sunday afternoon.

A look of scorned indifference graces everyone’s features, their eyes seemingly focus on ME. I quickly look down and take another shaky breath.

I’m wet, my clothes torn—thanks to Charming—and breasts on display to a bunch of heathens who probably have not seen a woman in a long-ass time.

If rape is on their menu, I will happily use my lifeline with no complaints. When I get back, I will knee Charming in the groin, and then I will have my happily-ever-after.

The ship’s deck is massive with tall poles that carry sky-scraping masts, catching the wind with each violent whip.

I glance back up and can see a large, two-story staircase that leads into a three-story glass cabin. Or whatever they call this metal creation on water.

I would not want to run into this warship on the Black Sea; this rig probably never saw a loss.

I look closer and see machine guns with strange sapphire lights glowing within a place where you’d think cannonballs would go. Yeah, these guys mean business.

A tall man with a long, narrow face stands a couple of feet in front of me with a clipboard. He looks ratty, and his nose twitches as he stares at me. My heart stops.

“Snake eyes,” he says in a condemning tone. “Where are you from? To whom do you owe your allegiance?”

My arms move, thankfully. I show him my necklace and wrist tattoo, and Mort does the same. He stares at it for a while, then glances back at me with a leering grin, eyes traveling down my body, licking his thin lips.

“Very nice,” he whispers. “Were you on the McDon’s merchant ship, then?”

I nod.

“Any other survivors?” he snaps.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Keep your eyes down, slave!” he commands, making me jump.

“His Highness will not like this news.” He whips around and speaks to the short, portly man to his right.

“I believe this is worthy of Prince Apollo’s attention. Sirona Bandits strike again in the same week. Will you go and inform him that his presence is needed?”

The ratty man turns to look in the direction of the glass cabin.

A flash of nerves courses through me like lightning.

Why am I so nervous?!

I barely glance up and see three men at the top of the stairs, and I stop breathing. They’re swiftly heading our way, and I can tell you that I might need medical help myself.

The man in the middle is undoubtedly Apollo, walking as though he is a Greek god.

I always read that in romance books—you know, the dashing hero being compared to Greek gods. Now I completely understand.

He is all that is power and beauty, garbed in all-black armor save for the midnight blue cape with silver clasps at his broad shoulders. A slow shiver licks its way down my spine.

The two men with him also wear the same color and cape. I faintly wonder if it’s a sign of royalty. He looks like Thor, but with an extra dash of sexy and darkness.

I feel my face flush with hot lava as he nears.

His arresting dark gaze hones in on me and me alone. I’m not used to this intensity—my ovaries, I think, explode.

His skin is beautifully bronzed, with perfect high cheekbones and the most delicious jaw line my hungry eyes have ever beheld.

I desperately want to put my face in his neck and inhale, and maybe a little tongue action. I bet he smells and tastes glorious.

He has beautiful golden hair—some pieces look white-bleached, probably due to the adoring sun making sweet love to his hair. You think I’m being dramatic? I assure you I’m not!

I was never boy crazy as a girl, not being interested in anyone that I can recall. I might have been too picky. But now, I am reeling, entirely off-balance. I can’t even catch my breath.

Apollo’s almost-black, hot-as-hell gaze contrasts with his light hair and tanned skin. He should have sparkling blue eyes, but no, the glittering darkness of his eyes gives me hot flashes.

I feel Mort bump me.

I flush as I give myself a mental shake. I’m too busy in my fantasy to realize Apollo is asking me a question. Embarrassment stains my cheeks and chest.

Apollo arches a brow and glances at Ratman with the clipboard. “Does the slave speak? Is she mute?”

My eyes widen.

Oh, great first impression.

The ratty man swallows, then glares at me. “Yes, she does. Answer His Grace! How did you learn to shoot the arrow like that?! And where did you find such a fine weapon being just a slave?”

My heart is about to give out. I take a steady breath and glance at Prince Apollo, willing my voice to work. Apollo is quite tall, way over six feet, and I feel like a little girl being scolded.

“I was taught by someone well qualified. I’m a fast learner. I guess it is a gift I was born with, taking to archery quicker than others.”

I have no idea if that makes sense. I’m still killing Charming for no back story and for making me look like an idiot.

Apollo frowns, his dark gaze seeming to flicker as he crosses his arms over his muscular chest.

“Are you deliberately being vague? Because if you are,” he slowly looks me up and down, “a night with my men will make you talk.”

He is rude. My cheeks heat at his crudeness. “Yes, I’m being vague.”

I hear Mort groan.

Fail.

“Only because I suffer from amnesia. I fell off a horse a few years back and I have no recollection who I am or how I became good at archery. It sounds a little far-fetched, but that’s the truth.”

I want to slap my forehead. I told you I was a fan of Anastasia.

“Is that so?” He nods and turns to another man. “Have someone look into her situation. If she is lying, her pretty little head will look good in a noose. I have no room for spies, nor the patience.”

His glittering gaze holds me prisoner. “She does not act nor talk like a slave, which concerns me.”

The good news is, he thinks I have a pretty head. The bad news is that if he finds out I’m lying, I will be hanged. I need to talk to Pierce to clean this up ASAP.

“Bring them to the servant’s quarters and put them to work.” He pauses as his eyes linger over my body. My skin heats to overdrive.

“Give these women something proper to wear. I don’t need my men distracted.” He turns to leave.

I blow out a long breath, not realizing I was holding it.

This is not going to be easy.

Now that I see what this man looks like, I’m afraid that this competition might get ugly in a hurry.