CASPIAN
The cell is freezing cold. The kind of chill that cuts through to your very bones.
There’s a draft coming from somewhere and an incessant dripping that’s slowly fraying my nerves.
The dreaded sound of boots coming down the hallway cuts through my disassociation and despite my best efforts, fear rises in me at what’s to come.
My body hurts from the last time and I bite back a groan as I struggle to get my legs under me.
I have no strength to resist but I refuse to go down easy.
Keys jangle, bars creak and the boots are inside my cell, walking the few steps to stop in front of me.
A scoff of disgust and a fist twists into my hair, jerking my head up.
My eyes flutter open, fixed into a perpetual glare at my captor.
“My sweet little prince,” he purrs. “My favorite little toy.”
He drags me across the stone towards the door—
I’m kicked awake. Hard . The jump from nightmare to reality is not a far stretch—just a different cell, a different monster.
I’d fallen over onto my side and when I look up, Blackwell is standing over me.
Water splashes onto my face—fresh water.
I choke trying to drink as much of it as I can.
It’s day three down here and my head hurts from lack of food and water, the manacles have already rubbed my wrists raw, and the cutlass wound on my side is throbbing.
But pain is good, it gives me something to focus on and I use it to help bring me fully back to the present.
That nightmare had been a bad one. I shove the memories it stems from back where they belong—in a dark corner, covered in shadows and tied up with self-loathing .
“Like a beaten down dog,” Blackwell mutters.
I push myself up, sitting against a support beam. “Woof.”
“You either have no sense of self-preservation or you are vastly unaware of just how dire your current situation is.”
“Now you just sound like my father,” I huff. “He says I use humor to deflect.”
Blackwell steps back to lean against the open door of the cell, arms crossed over his chest. When he doesn’t say anything, I give him another slow once over, appreciating the dangerous undertone he’s exuding.
“Finally decided to pay me a visit, Captain?”
He looks at me with contempt. “Heard my investment wasn’t being very forthcoming.”
“I figured that would get you to visit me faster,” I grin. “Curiosity is a persistent bitch.”
Blackwell ignores the comment and tilts his head at me. “Why were you flying the Black?”
I look at him with a do-you-seriously-think-I’ll-tell-you look. “Maybe I’m a pirate.”
“I’ve never heard of you.”
I laugh. “And you know every pirate to ever sail these seas?” Drawing my legs up, I rest my arms on my knees and regard him with a raise of eyebrows.
“I think you’re hiding something.”
“Imagine that—hiding something from a pirate.” I lean forward and smirk. “Does that scare you, Captain? Not knowing? You strike me as a man who always wants to be in control.”
His eyes glimmer in the dim light with an expression I can’t read. I probably shouldn’t bait this man but I wasn’t lying when I said it’s a coping mechanism. I can turn it off as easily as I can control the tide—
“What House do you belong to?”
He’s a stubborn prick, I’ll give him that much.
I plaster as much of a condescending smile as I can manage on my face. “Come on, Captain. Even your big Viking brute asked more clever questions than that. What’s his name by the way? I doubt he wants me to keep calling him the nickname I invented—”
Two steps and he’s looming over me. He sinks to one knee and his hand flashes out, gripping my chin hard. His presence overwhelms me—wrapping me in the spiced scent of rum and the metallic tang of blood and steel.
“You already know I think you’re a De’Vero so let me just add this bit of info,” he snarls. “I’m going to kill every single person in that House—I’ve been working my way up. So if you don’t want to get caught up in all of that— Which. Fucking. House …”
My expression hardens and I hold his gaze for what feels like five minutes but probably is more like thirty seconds.
There’s something dark there that captivates me and keeps dragging me under anytime he gets close.
It’s why I wanted to lure him down here—because there’s something there, lurking beneath the surface that intrigues me.
I want to rip into it—the same way he wants to unravel me—I want to discover why, in just the short amount of time I’ve been a guest on this God-forsaken ship, all I can think about is him .
His thumb is slightly in the way but I manage to pull my lip up in a smirk. “Fuck you.”
And then, because I’m an asshole, and because he’s tantalizingly close, I headbutt him. Hard .
To his credit, he doesn’t budge much except to jerk backwards from the impact. Blackwell twists his neck from side to side and the look he gives me when our eyes clash is downright deadly. He shoves me harder into the wall.
“If you aren’t De’Vero, why won’t you tell me what House?” He snarls.
“Your obsession with this is growing tiresome, Captain,” I say. “And entirely irrelevant for a ransom transaction. The fact that I’m a noble will more than suffice to get you paid.”
“It matters if you’re Draevorn.”
“Well, you think I’m De’Vero so, that’s irrelevant.”
“If it’s irrelevant, why not just tell me?”
A laugh whispers out of me. “You don’t deserve all my secrets, Blackwell.”
His nose is lightly bleeding, the line of blood runs down to his lips and I can’t take my eyes off of it.
I’m so distracted by it, I don’t notice he’s pulled his dagger out until it presses against my mouth.
A shiver races through me—I tell myself it’s from the chill of the blade.
His fingers are surprisingly warm as they wrap under my jaw.
“If you won’t tell me, I should just cut out your tongue,” he breathes. “I’ve certainly killed men for less than the insolence you’re displaying now.”
He’s so close I can see his eyes aren’t in fact black pits of nothingness but a deep, deep blue—like the sea where light hardly reaches.
He has a faint scar beginning under his eye that travels down his cheek like a delicate lightning bolt, faded but there if you look closely.
I’m sinking into the raging sea in the eye of a storm, helpless to stop the pull.
I don’t know what possesses me but I lean in closer, daring to dive deeper into the darkness of him.
I hear his breath lurch once but his composure holds, irritatingly so.
His eyes don’t waver from mine and I don’t think either of us blinks as I draw closer.
His fingers tighten on my jaw but he’s not restraining me, too wrapped up in trying to figure me out.
I slowly part my lips and touch my tongue to the steel before inch by slow inch, I drag it down the smooth flat of the blade.
The biting cold of iron floods my senses and Blackwell goes deathly still, the barest flicker of surprise crossing his face before his lips twitch in irritation. I lean in another inch.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” I caution, reveling in the act of never being what someone expects me to be. “My handwriting is atrocious. Not to mention—” I slowly bring my hands up, the chainlinks whispering secrets between us. “The only sign I know is this one—”
And I flip him the middle finger