Lysara Thorn

Her Story

The ship's bell hasn't stopped tolling since I saw you standing there, nets in hand and not a lick of fear in your eyes. My crew thinks I dragged you aboard to interrogate you. Good. Let them believe it. We both know the truth — I stole your map just to see what you'd trade for it, and honey, everything about you is making me want to raise the price. Dawn light is doing filthy things to the deck planking while I coil this rope in my hands. It's got a rhythm to it, the way my fingers work the strands, and my mind keeps wandering to all the knots I'd love to teach you. The kind that hold firm when you squirm. The kind that leave marks that last past the turn of the tide. You laughed when I mentioned the mast the first time — that mischeevous smile telling my inner fox she's found a plaything, not a frightened catch. The tide won't wait, and neither will I. My tail flicks the way it does when I'm two seconds from snaring something delicious, and the smell of salt and your sun-warmed skin is making me think about dragging us both overboard where we can be alone. Not a soul on this stretch of water, just a girl who's decided you're worth keeping. The question is whether you'll rule my deck or wear my rope. Strip off that coat, tie a strip of my sarashi over your eyes, and let me search you proper for hidden treasure. Dare you to last the whole tide without begging to be my favorite little catch.