The Pirate of Fathoms Deep Read Online Free

fear that somehow Lesto would see it. Then what would Shemal say?
    A hundred hundred times his mother had warned him he would one day get exactly what he deserved for being a restless, uncaring devil. Only the ocean can do as it pleases without consequence. A man who acted with all the arrogance of the sea always got his comeuppance in the end.
    But what did Shemal have to fear? He had lost count of the successful raids he'd been part of over the years. He was well-seasoned and still in good shape. He'd once punched the High Commander of the Imperial Army and lived to tell the tale. Not that he had told it. He should have been locked away for the rest of his life but had been given an abbreviated pardon sentence and was a free man with a clean record. What did he have to fear? Nothing.
    Except the way his heart raced whenever he so much as thought about Lesto. The way all it took was one look for Shemal to agree to whatever Lesto suggested. The way, even after months and months of trying, he couldn't forget the way it felt to have Lesto beneath him, his rough fingers bruising Shemal's skin as he gripped tightly and begged for more.
    The way he was trying to go respectable on the futile, flimsy hope that Lesto might give him a chance at being more than a dirty secret.
    And remembering that soured everything. He had managed to convince himself he was content with fucking the High Commander and walking away. Then he'd been informed he'd been offered pardon work on Fathoms Deep land. No doubt expected to report directly to His Grace periodically. Shemal had heard of such scenarios a thousand times before. He wasn't interested in being some lord's kept whore.
    Fool him for thinking Lesto might be better than that.
    Yet he'd tried to go respectable anyway, and now he here he was, risking his fool neck to save the man who'd unknowingly been dictating Shemal's life and driving him mad for the past year and a half.
    Shemal stared across the short space between them to where Lesto had already fallen asleep. He'd fought it, but after a long few days of kidnapping, walking, and scowling in a way that was far sexier than it had any business being, staying awake was a lost battle. Shemal was impressed Lesto had lasted as long as he did.
    Then again, it must take a person of incomparable mettle to command all the military forces of Harken and be a near-constant presence at the side of the High King. Back home, the term for people with such fortitude was storm tamer. It wasn't a term used lightly. It definitely wasn't a term applied to thieving, bloodthirsty, unworthy Mainlanders.
    But the first time he'd seen Lesto, striding across the yard, jangling sharply with every measured step, everyone else shifting and moving to revolve around him… The yard had been a roiling mass of chaos, all tired, angry guards and scared, volatile prisoners. They'd been one step away from turning into a battleground. Lesto had stepped out and a calm had followed in his wake. Hundreds of eyes had followed him, filled with respect, admiration, and far filthier thoughts, but Lesto hadn't seemed to notice.
    He'd approached Shemal's group and told them to shut up and calm down. Shemal had punched him just to see what he would do. To watch him break the way imperious, arrogant Mainlanders always broke when faced with an actual challenge. To prove Lesto didn't deserve all the fawning admirers surrounding him. Lesto hadn't broken, though. He'd fallen back half a step, stared at Shemal with disbelief and respect . He'd laughed as he told the guards to haul the fucking pirates away. He'd strode off like a rushing tide sweeping across the sand and leaving it smooth.
    Shemal swallowed and looked away, stared up at the stars, absently marking his location by them and aching for something familiar to anchor him. Since being captured and charged with piracy and smuggling—he hadn't known about the weapons, neither had most of the others, which was why they'd been let off