Tides Of Temptation

The tension snapped like a rope too tight. Kael exhaled sharply — then moved. He reached out — one hand catching her wrist, the other at her shoulder — and before she could react, guided her back a step… then another… until her boot heel met stone.

Her eyes widened. “Kael—”

He tilted his head, calm as ever. “You said you liked drowning.”

And with one precise motion, he tipped her backward into the well.

A splash, a shriek, and a furious burst of laughter followed.

“KAEL!” she sputtered, surfacing, her hair plastered to her face. “YOU—!” she started, but her outrage broke into helpless laughter. “You’re dead when I get out!”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said, offering a hand.

She glared at it, then at him, then finally took it. He pulled her out — water dripping, her clothes clinging, her teeth chattering.

Aria shoved him lightly once she was on her feet. “You— smug— sea-born— bastard!”

Kael folded his arms, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Feel better?”

She narrowed her eyes — but a smile was already fighting its way through. “You’re lucky…”

“Next time,” he said, “drink less rum.”

“Next time,” she shot back, “I’ll throw you in.”

Aria was still dripping onto the deck, her clothes sticking to her skin, her hair plastered to her face, but there was already a spark in her eyes. Kael turned to hide his smile, but before he could step away, Aria grabbed him by the collar.

“You…” she breathed, her voice a mixture of laughter, breath, and something unnamed. “You were lucky it was funny.”

Kael remained completely calm.

“Because otherwise I’d have killed you,” she replied.

The air between them smelled of salt, rum, and cold. Water trickled down her neck, and the lantern light refracted across her skin as if pulsing. Kael felt his heart speed up — that moment between danger and madness, when you’re unsure whether to move closer or step back.

Aria stepped another pace closer, hands still on his collar. “You know, Kael… very few people dare push me into water.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper. “Very few people need to be cooled off.”

Aria smiled — slow, dangerous, balancing fun and challenge. “Do you think you know me?”

Kael didn’t answer immediately. Their eyes met, and for a moment it seemed like the waves around them were calling them to break.

“Not yet,” he finally said. “But I’m working on it.”

Aria chuckled softly, almost hoarse from cold. “Bold, sailor.”

Aria stood by the well, water running off her in rivulets, her hair plastered to her face and her lips already turning bluish. “Damn you, Kael,” she hissed between her teeth, trembling from the cold. “That wasn’t—”

She sucked in a breath as the chill went to her bones. “—funny!”

Kael pressed his lips together to hold back a smile, but he didn’t quite manage it. “I wouldn’t agree,” he said calmly. “From my angle it was fairly effective.”

Then his expression sobered. He noticed her hands trembling, her whole body shaking. “Come,” he said softly. “You can’t stay here. If Darius sees you like this, I’ll end up lashed to the mast.”

“Don’t worry about him,” she shivered. “I can take care of myself—”

“Of course,” he interrupted in a calm tone. “But you’re coming with me now.”

She didn’t wait for the offer, but Kael wordlessly slipped his coat off his shoulders and wrapped it around her. It was warm, soaked with the scent of salt and leather. Aria mumbled something, but made no move to resist.

Kael stepped closer, took her elbow gently — not with command, but with a steadying pressure. “The ship’s close. Quickly, before someone else starts looking for you.”

The night was cold; the wind from the sea merciless. They walked in silence along the shore, only the waves breaking on the rocks and, somewhere in the distance, the tavern laughter still echoing. Aria pulled the coat tighter, her legs trembling, and said nothing.

When they reached the pier, the Siren of Storms rocked gently on the water, its lanterns throwing a soft, warm glow over the waves. The watchmen only glanced up briefly — it looked as if Kael had everything under control.

In silence he led her to the cabin. He opened the door and let her step inside first. The air was warm, smelling of fresh wood and salt.

“Change your clothes,” he said simply. “If you get sick, the captain will have me hanged.”

Aria turned to him, wet hair falling across her eyes. “You’re the one who shoved me in,” she replied.

“For your own good,” he said calmly.

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Your ‘good’ has interesting methods.”

“It works,” he said. “At least now you’re shaking from cold, not from rum.”

Kael slowly stepped back, and they closed the door behind him. The creak of the wooden floorboards sounded like the final echo of the evening’s madness. Kael remained outside, leaning against the cabin frame. The ship rocked gently, the air heavy with the scent of salt, rum, and fresh wind carrying the whisper of the night. From inside, he could hear the rustle of clothes and the faint shuffle of footsteps. Aria murmured something — something about captains not needing to follow orders — and then everything fell silent.

Time passed. One minute, then two, then five. Kael looked up at the stars as if searching for patience that had long since sailed away with the waves.

“Aria?” he finally said, tapping lightly on the door. No answer. Again. Still nothing. With a quiet sigh that only the night itself could hear, he slowly opened the door.

The cabin was warm, the scent of rum and sea blending with the freshness of clean linen. Light from the ship’s lantern streamed through the window, casting lines across the room. On the bed, Aria lay with her hair slightly tousled, cheeks still flushed, one leg draped half off the edge, arms spread as if she’d just finished a battle with her own body. Her dry shirt was half undone, her coat folded neatly to the side — an achievement, hand on heart, for a drunken pirate.

Kael smiled softly — that rare, barely noticeable smile that someone else might have mistaken for a shadow. He stepped closer, draping a blanket over her so she wouldn’t get cold. He leaned over her, watching for a moment. In her calm breath and faint smile, he could feel the wildness of the night. And for the first time in a long while, he felt that strange kind of peace — one undisturbed by wind or ship.

“Sleep, first mate,” he whispered, turning toward the door. “You’ve earned it.”

The door closed with a soft creak. Kael lingered on the hallway for a moment, gazing out at the sea, silently admitting something even he hadn’t wanted to admit — this woman was a storm, and he… he was no longer trying to avoid it.