The wind blew bitterly that night as La Sirena crossed the Sea of Bones, slicing smartly across the waves. Most of the crew and passengers were asleep by now… all but Elena and Niegal.
They were too wired, too anxious, too alive.
They were sailing toward Isla Serpiente.
And their runaway daughter.
When they arrived at the docks, Aurora and Alejandro were already there with Vera. They had cast off immediately, the dawn winds blowing their sails with urgency. Almost as if the gods themselves took them away.
So now, as Elena unpacked their bags in the captain's quarters, her hands paused over a small, familiar wooden box. Her eyes widened with recognition, and a slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
Inside: cigarillos. Her personal blend. Mana leaves, blue lotus petals, chamomile- soft and heady. A folded bit of parchment lay tucked inside.
Something to take the edge off. I know mi Doña doesn't drink.Good luck out there. -C
Elena laughed softly, the sound like warm honey.
Behind her, Niegal chuckled. "Looks like the general really did go above and beyond."
Elena turned, that same wicked gleam still in her eyes. "Shall we take these to the crow's nest? I think we've earned a little smoke session, no?"
Niegal returned her grin, and together they slipped out, careful not to wake a sleeping Phineus, curled under blankets, dagger clutched like a stuffed toy.
The wind barely rustled this high up. The stars gleamed. It was the perfect place to hide away for a while.
Elena snapped her fingers, lighting both of their cigarillos. The smell washed over her like memory.
She inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering half-closed, and laughed when Niegal coughed.
"You're out of practice," she teased, exhaling a gentle stream of silver-blue smoke.
Niegal held his chest, wheezing dramatically. "Gods, that's potent. Honestly though? I wouldn't mind starting again."
They laughed together, the tension of the last few weeks unraveling at the seams.
Elena sighed. Her shoulders, always so tight, finally dropped. Niegal watched her melt into the moment and smiled softly.
"You look lighter," he said.
She nodded. "After so many years, it's hazing the mind a bit. I forgot how this blend hits."
He took another drag, letting the ache in his ribs dull beneath its balm. "Good. We're both a little tense."
Silence stretched between them. Comfortable. Familiar. Welcome.
Niegal lit another.
Elena did too.
The second smoke made her smile.
"You know," he murmured, "back at the estate… I used to love watching you smoke. You looked like a dragon out of a children's tale."
Elena blushed faintly. "I was young. It was a habit then. One I thought I was done with."
Niegal's grin turned lazy, admiring.
"Mi Doña… you still are. This isn't a habit. It's ritual."
Elena giggled. "Careful, mi León. That was almost poetic."
He nudged her shoulder. "Almost?"
They smoked in silence again. A large wave rocked the ship, almost sending Elena off balance. She let out a breathless, girlish laugh as she grabbed Niegal's coat for balance.
"Gods, this blend might be too strong now. I haven't felt this hazy since that confessional."
Niegal froze.
His jaw dropped.
"I beg your pardon?"
Elena blinked.
Realized what she'd just said.
And promptly groaned, shaking her head. "No. Nope. Not getting into that."
Niegal leaned in, eyes sparkling.
"Elena. You absolutely are."
She groaned louder and reached for another cigarillo.
He took it before she could light it.
"Nuh uh. Spill it, nena."
She kissed his cheek, took it back, and lit it herself. "Don't look at me like that. I was young. She was… older."
Niegal's eyebrows climbed even higher.
"She?"
Elena shrugged behind her smoke, mischievous. "A novitiate. Worked in the lunch hall. Soft voice. Eyes like the sky in summer. We were both lonely, and one day I was crying in the chapel over something stupid my mother said. She found me."
Elena chuckled at the memory. "I think we looked at each other just a little too long… because a priest militant walked in."
Niegal was entranced. "No…"
"We bolted into a confessional booth, hid behind the curtain like terrified mice."
She took another drag.
"And then…?"
"She kissed me," Elena said lightly. "Thoroughly. And I may have kissed her back. Possibly confessed a few things with our hands, too."
Niegal groaned, half in disbelief, half in awe. "Is that why they call you a witch whore? I always thought they were being dramatic."
Elena raised a brow and flicked ash toward him. "Are you, of all people, judging me, mi León?"
He leaned in, voice dark and velvet. "I'm praying I have enough sense not to drag you to the chapel below deck and make you do it again."
Elena smirked and snuffed her smoke.
"And if I drag you there first?"
Niegal kissed her, slow and sinful.
"Then I hope the gods forgive me."
Clothes fell like petals to the chapel floor.
Niegal groaned against her neck as Elena's hand found him. Her traveling dress slipped from her shoulders like water. She was already waiting for him, already aching. He tasted her name like a prayer, and she arched into him at the altar.
Their hands were greedy. Their mouths full of sinful kisses.
Elena moaned as he filled her, and Niegal swore the lion inside him nearly broke free.
She pushed him down onto a pew, straddling him with a whimper. The smoke still lingered in the air.
He thought he'd been undone before.
But this?
This was ritual.
Elena bit down into his growing, furred shoulder as the lion surged forth, taking over. Niegal let him. Pleasure swallowed reason whole. The serpent begged for more.
When he came, so did she, their bodies crashing together like thunder.
The lion growled.
The snake hissed.
And the moonlight from the porthole kissed their skin like a blessing.
"I love you," she whispered against his lips as he phased back into a man.
"I love you too, mi Doña."
They stayed there for a moment—still tangled, still inside each other.
Breathless.
Elena giggled. "So. We're definitely doing this again, right?"
Niegal kissed her temple. "Which part? The defiling of a sacred place or the smoking?"
Elena's grin was wicked. "¿Y por qué no los dos?"
Niegal groaned, already hard again.
"Damn… I love it when you talk like that."
Their laughter echoed through the chapel.
And then it was moans again.