The pirate ship was straight up a floating fantasy wet dream. She boarded slowly, eyes wide in awe as she took in everything. She had never seen something so beautiful.
Carved wood inlaid with glowing blue runes, floating lanterns that bobbed in midair, and a crew of the most chaotic looking bastards Rhiannan had ever laid eyes on. The whole place smelled like leather, seawater, and something dangerously magical.
Also? Zero women.
Figures.
Arwen led her down below deck into his quarters, which looked like a villain's Pinterest board exploded in there. Velvet everywhere. A giant black panther fur rug (which she side eyed HARD), crystal decanters, and a weird ass magical mirror that shimmered when she walked past it.
She gave it the finger.
"I don't like being watched, sparkles," she muttered.
Arwen smirked. "It's a communication mirror. Think of it like a magical FaceTime."
"Great. Even in fantasy land I can't escape social media."
He handed her a sleek, silver cuff. She eyed it warily.
"What's this? Cuff of submission? Cuff of fuckery?" she asked, eyeing it like it might bite.
"It's your SmartBrain," he said. "Projects holoscreens, connects to FaeNet, maps the kingdom. You'll need it."
She took it with two fingers and snapped it on. The screen activated instantly, scanning her retina.
Welcome, Rhiannan. Her eyes widened.
Would you like to update your status?
"Update this, bitch," she muttered, flipping it off.
She swiped through the interface, eyes narrowing.
"Why the hell is your version of the internet so pretty? Why is there a 'MateMatch Compatibility Scan'? Why does it say 'Goddess Tier Potential Pending Review'?! WHAT THE FUCK, ARWEN?!" She immediately panicked. She did not sign up for this. Or maybe she did, she couldn't remember and that totally pissed her off.
Arwen looked innocent. Which was a fucking lie.
"I didn't do anything. FaeNet runs off prophecy code. If the system flagged you..." He regarded her carefully, "I must have been lead to you for a reason."
She spun on him, her long auburn hair whipping around her furiously. "Do not prophecy code me. I'm not yours. I'm not some NPC side quest bimbo. I'm Rhiannan, and I will burn this ship down if you try to alpha hole me one more goddamn time."
His eye flared with something primal.
And he fucking grinned. Heat pooled between her thighs again and she blew a raspberry in exasperation, planting her hand on her hip with as much attitude as she could muster.
"Spirits, you're perfect." He purred.
She threw a pillow at him. Hard, and snorted.
"Keep talking and your ass is getting neutered."
His laugh echoed down the hallway.
Outside, the crew was shouting something. She stomped upstairs, cussing under her breath, determined to figure out what the hell kind of future fucked fantasy land she'd landed in.
And why the stars...and FaeNet...were calling her goddess, and why she wanted to climb Arwen like the delicious tree he was. She sighed. She was in big trouble, and she grinned to herself as she realized how much fun she was having. This may not be so bad. She couldn't remember her previous life, so it didn't matter. She decided she would make the best of this fucked up situation. Her resolve strengthened, she continued to the upper deck of the ship, big brown eyes sparkling.