CASPIAN
I don’t want to leave the cabin. Being wrapped up in each other for the last twenty-four hours was like being lost in a beautiful, alternate reality.
No masks, no pretending—just us. After having to steal so many small moments, this felt like a big one.
But the world doesn’t stop turning and once again we’re interrupted.
Blackwell rips open the door. “What!” He snaps.
Lan is standing there in the hallway and as I come up to Blackwell’s shoulder, Harrison appears from down the hall.
“What the fuck is the hold up?” He demands.
“He wouldn’t answer the door!” Lan throws his hand at Blackwell.
Harrison glares at me over Blackwell’s shoulder, immediately assuming all of this is my fault. I smirk at him and give a little wave. He bares his teeth at me then looks at Blackwell.
“Captain, there’s a problem on deck,” he says.
“What kind of problem?”
“Some of the men are saying they don’t want to go deeper into the Stormwrack.”
Blackwell grumbles something about a mutiny before stalking down the hallway. We all follow him out into the midmorning sun to see the majority of the crew gathered on the main deck. Van rushes over to me, concern written on his face.
“Some of the men are refusing to continue,” he says in a low voice. “Some of them are ours.”
Before I can say anything, Harrison steps forward. “Who here has an issue?”
Four men step to the front of the crowd. Two of them are De’Vero men—Rourke and Gerrald. The other two are Tempest deckhands, Kale and Fletcher.
“We don’t think it’s worth the risk to sail deeper into the Stormwrack,” Kale says.
I step forward. “You two agree with them?” I demand, looking over at the De’Vero men.
“Aye, there’s no proof,” Gerrald says.
“The risk for something we don’t even know exists—” Rourke shakes his head. “Just doesn’t seem to make sense, sir.”
“I brought you men aboard for your fortitude and bravery—I didn’t expect you two to slink away at the first sign of danger,” I say angrily.
“It’s not the first sign of danger though, Cap—sir,” Gerrald says.
“Aye, we’ve lost men,” Rourke insists. “I think maybe we’re chasin’ nothin’ but ghosts straight to our deaths in this cursed sea.”
Blackwell stalks right up to him. “Are you afraid of ghosts, Rourke?”
“I didn’t say that—”
“You know what you should be more afraid of?” His voice is deathly smooth and dripping with danger. Before Rourke can speak, Blackwell’s fist connects with his jaw—the sharp sound loud across the silent deck. The deck hand falls to his knee, blood dripping from his mouth.
Blackwell yanks his head up by his hair. “You should be more afraid of me—” He leans close. “—than what’s out there.”
I see Gerrald move towards Blackwell. A step brings me to the Captain’s side, and I grab a dagger from his belt before slamming my elbow into Gerrald's stupid neck.
“For someone who doesn’t want to die, you seem to have a death wish,” I snarl in his face.
I glance at Kale and Fletcher briefly, but Harrison and Van are suddenly closer to them than before, and they lift their hands in submission, already familiar with Blackwell enough to know when to step down.
“And what happens if there isn’t any gold?” Gerrald manages, voice strained against the press of the blade.
“There was never a guarantee,” Blackwell says, his voice sharp. “Not for the gold and certainly not for getting out of this alive. If you were looking for that, you shouldn’t have set foot on my ship.”
“But you know what is certain?” I growl. “The only way you’re going back that direction, is if you decide to go for a swim because this ship isn’t turning around.” I shove the knife harder against Gerrald’s neck. “Is that what you want?”
“No, sir.”
“Then quit fucking standing around,” Blackwell barks.
The men dissipate back to their stations in varying degrees of quickness. Blackwell glares out at them, a muscle in his jaw jumps. I wait until everyone is gone before I shove Gerrald away from me.
“I hope there isn’t a next time,” I say in a low voice. “But if there is, he’s not the only one you’re going to need to fear.” I thrust the blade backwards indicating Blackwell. Gerrald swallows nervously and his hand goes to his neck. He nods before scurrying away. Fucking idiot.
I turn to see Blackwell watching me and give him a smirk. I flip the dagger, the steel cold in my hand as I give it back to him. I wink and move past him to speak to Van.
“Keep an eye on them, Van,” I say. “First sign of a fucking whisper and I’ll feed them to the Kraken, understood?”
“Aye, sir,” Van murmurs, nodding sharply.
I hear Harrison mutter something derogatory regarding the De’Vero crew under his breath. My attention shoots to him. After getting interrupted with Blackwell and the disappointment in my own crew members, my patience is gone.
“Did you say something, Blondie?”
He’s scowling at me, his stance aggressive as he stands beside Van.
Van puts his hands between us. “Not worth it—” he says firmly.
Harrison shoves Van’s hand aside and steps closer. “You heard me. You lot are good for nothing but causing issues—”
“You trying to start something?”
Harrison’s lip curls. “Maybe I need to put the De’Vero in his place again and send a message.”
“What makes you think you succeeded the first time?”
Harrison shrugs. “I know you threw the fight before.”
“Then take the win, mate,” I sneer.
“You think by doing me a favor you’re better than me?” Harrison growls.
“No, Blondie, I know I’m better than you.” My tone is low and dripping in ice.
Harrison scoffs and gives me a sneer of his own. “Is that a challenge, Your Highness ?”
“Enough!” Blackwell growls. He looks at me, his eyes holding a question. I give him a subtle nod. “You two want to fight it out, fine—tonight, at sunset. First to draw blood,” he says loud enough for the crew to hear. “We could all do with some entertainment.”
“You better bring your A-game,” I taunt. “I’m not doing you any favors this time.”
Harrison bares his teeth in a feral grin. “You remember that when you’re down on the deck bleeding. ”
The sun is setting on our left and the mood is lively as men gather around the edges of the main deck.
Bets are being exchanged, rum is flowing and the sound of raucous laughter drifts on the light breeze.
This isn’t a fight to prove a point to the crew, even though it’ll mean something to Harrison and I—to them, it’ll simply be entertainment.
Which means, I can go all in, and I fully intend to put Harrison on his back.
Energy ripples through me at the thought, and I bounce on the balls of my feet, eager and ready.
Van stands next to me, a frown on his face. “Just don’t kill him,” he mutters.
“I’m not going to kill him,” I say dryly. I look over at where Harrison is standing on the other side of the cleared out space we’ve designated for the fight. He’s glaring at me, a deadly glint in his eyes. “Can’t say the same about him though. I think he’s going to try.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Van grumbles.
“You’ve seen the prince fight before, Van. He’ll be fine,” Flynt says, glancing up briefly from where he’s sharpening my cutlass against a whetstone.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I say, humor lacing my words as I look pointedly at Van.
Van shrugs and holds up his hands. “Just don’t think it’s smart to be doing this so far from a safe port is all.”
“If he touches me with that blade, I deserve it,” I grin. “Hopefully I’m not too rusty.” At Van’s look of horror I laugh and clasp him on the back. “I’m just joking, Van—relax.”
Blackwell appears on deck, his presence always sends a rush of something dark and dangerous through the crew, not to mention what it does to me—and the crowd hushes ever so slightly.
He walks over to Harrison who finally drags his attention away from me to address his Captain.
His gaze softens ever so slightly—the respect and partnership they have obvious in the way they’re heads are bent together.
I can’t hear what is said, but Harrison looks begrudgingly at Blackwell and nods once.
The pirate Captain turns his attention to me and my blood practically sings—the rush of adrenaline and nerves mixing with the potent attraction I feel towards him.
A slow smile spreads across my face and his scowl lessens ever so slightly.
He walks over and stops in front of us. Van and Flynt exchange a look and after handing me my blade, they fade to the edge of the crowd, giving us some space.
“You sure about this?” He asks.
“You need to stop asking me that—makes it seem like you don’t have faith in me, Captain.” I tsk in a teasing manner. “I’m disappointed. ”
“Harrison has had it out for you this entire time,” Blackwell growls. “Just—be careful.”
“The concern is touching,” I smirk at him. “But I can handle Blondie.” I lean in closer. “The more important question is what do I get when I win?”
I barely catch the sharp hitch in his breathing. His lips twitch and he looks at me intensely, hunger glimmering in his eyes.
“I’m not a prize to be won,” he mutters.
“You’re right,” I swing my cutlass. “You’re the whole damn treasure.” I go to walk past him and lean in. “One I fully intend on claiming—just as soon as I put your quartermaster in his place.”
I enjoy the brief look of desire that crosses Blackwell’s face before he hides it. He turns with me but before he can say anything, Lan enters the center of the ring and holds up his hands.
“Men! Get your final bets in!” He looks at both Harrison and I in turn as we step into the open circle. “One weapon of choice each—first to draw blood is the winner. The floor is yours gentlemen!”
The rumble of a cheer runs through the crowd but I’ve already tuned them out. Exhilaration is rushing through my veins—alive and feral. I hold my cutlass in front of me, taking up a stance as I smirk at Harrison.
“Let’s see what you got, Blondie.”