Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
HOOK
T he first clue Vea was up to something was the winning smile she gave me before she ducked out of sight. The second was money exchanging hands among the crew—bets being placed if I wasn’t mistaken.
“Anton,” I barked, striding across the deck, luxuriating in the feel of polished mahogany under my boots, the familiar rock and sway of the Banshee settling in my bones like relief. Neither of the boats I’d procured felt like this—power and security. It was good to be home.
To my frustration, the quartermaster glanced at me with wide eyes and ducked behind the large frame of Ramone, vanishing from view. I narrowed my eyes at the lot of them.
“Would someone care to tell me what’s going on?” I demanded, adding a growl to my voice to remind them I was far from human.
Rolando’s moustache twitched with a smile as paused to pat my shoulder. He carried a crate towards the edge of the deck, like we were gathering to eat. It was hours from meal time. I gnashed my teeth. “Don’t worry, sir, I bet on you.”
My mouth fell open in outrage as he scurried past me. Bet on me for what?
The answer to that question came swiftly and fiercely in the form of a shout. I pinched the bridge of my nose, expelling a rough breath from my nose.
“Hook!” a sharp female voice cracked across the desk. “I challenge you to a duel!”
I raised my stare to the heavens. “Of course you do, Wendy,” I muttered under my breath, finally turning to face her with exasperation written across my face. “I locked you in the hold for a reason.”
“Safekeeping?” she guessed with the maddening grin on her round, golden face that made me want to strangle her. She had more freckles than I remembered. They glared at me from the bridge of her nose.
“For the safety of the crew,” I bit out.
She gasped, her eyes as bright as topaz. “You think I’m a danger to the crew.” She fanned her face, her sister snickering at her side. “That is so sweet, Hooky.”
“Alright, that’s it, you’re dead,” I growled, ripping the sword from my side—not the rapier she stabbed me with but the heavy, well balanced sword I’d collected on my travels since she murdered me.
“Ah ah ah,” she chided, wagging a finger at me. “This is a proper duel with proper rules. We’re allowed one weapon each. No guns. And no hair pulling.”
I adjusted the sword in my hand. “That’s not a usual rule.”
“Yeah, well my hair’s just too pretty to lose even a strand.” She wiggled her head, setting the gold ribbon of it dancing, gleaming. “See?”
I decided to shear it off her head. “I’ve chosen my weapon.” I noticed space had been cleared in the middle of the deck, crates arranged in a semi-circle where people had already gathered to watch.
“Perfect,” Wendy said brightly, skipping past me and into the fighting ring. Skipping. As if she wasn’t covered in bandages. The breath I exhaled this time was a growl. A warning of my bestial nature.
“Psst.”
My expression flattened as I gave my attention to the slim woman who ducked closer to me, speaking behind her raised hand. Joanna. The cause of this whole damn thing.
“What?” I bit out, my temper flayed to shreds.
“She likes you, too. And just so you know, stabbing people is Wendy’s love language.”
“Irrelevant,” I dismissed, pulling away from Joanna and striding towards the makeshift fighting arena. I didn’t care in what fucked up ways Wendy showed affection. I didn’t care for the way her sister said likes you, too. I had no interest in Wendy beyond cutting her into pieces in revenge for killing me and stealing my title—and my hat.
Wendy had selected her weapon: a sword half the size of mine but well balanced to her weight and figure. It was as sharp as the rapier she’d speared me on. She swung it around her, loosening up her bandaged arm and shoulder, the move clearly familiar, almost effortless. She looked good with a sword in her hand. Fuck.
I refused to adjust my cock in my trousers. I wouldn’t give any of the women on this ship the satisfaction. Not a single one of them should be here, certainly not Vea who cupped her hands around her mouth and chanted, “Fight, fight, fight!”
Around the Banshee, the ocean frothed, the white crest of waves sloshing over the rails as if it too chanted for us to duel. I sucked in a low, settling breath. Wendy was just another opponent, the likes of which I’d taken down in numbers so high I couldn’t count them. I would take her down, too. Her eyes would overflow with tears, her skin parting to gift me the victory of her blood. My heart drummed faster, a ripple of excitement screwing with my composure.
I didn’t like it. I had no idea what to do with this … this sense of thrill. I’d spent the past twenty years numbed to the world except for a few bright sparks of emotion here and there—satisfaction, rage, envy. They came and went like shooting stars, always fleeting. Yet why did emotion assault me every day since this vicious little creature killed me?
I could feel and I didn’t fucking like it.
“You will undo whatever spell you’ve cast over me, witch,” I hissed as I came within three feet of her, far enough that the crew wouldn’t overhear.
Wendy’s eyes widened then flashed with amusement, a ripple of topaz and grey brightening those beautiful irises. Fuck, not beautiful. Infuriating. Yes, that was better. “I’m just a plain ol’ human,” she lied. “Really. No witchcraft or magic. Everyone knows none of that shit is real.”
I bared my teeth in a smile. “Monsters aren’t real, either, and here I stand.” I held my sword casually, brushing my thumb over the two stars etched in the cross-guard, giving no indication of my intention.
Wendy’s breath caught when I leapt into a strike. But it was delight and not fear that filled her eyes as she whipped her sword up to catch mine before it could strike her, preventing me from cleaving her pretty head from her shoulders. My blood rushed faster, almost electric as we tore apart and clashed again, circling each other, predators searching for a weakness to exploit.
“Vea said something a little… odd,” Wendy said with a smirk I wanted to erase from her face or else feel all over my body, brushing every inch of my skin.
“Vea lies,” I bit out, going on the offensive, driving her back a step and watching indignation chase across her gold face. “You can’t believe a word she says.”
“What she says is you’re obsessed with me,” Wendy said cheekily, catching me off guard enough to force me back a step. Our audience cheered and booed in equal measure. Lovely. I’d rescued some of these bastards from debts, threats, and near death, and this was how they repaid me. By supporting a snake of a mutineer. All those cheers should have been for me.
I scoffed, knocking aside a clumsy strike and bringing my sword around in a flashy arc. “She’s delusional.”
Wendy bared her teeth as metal rang, her sword catching mine, saving herself a gash in her thigh. Pain flashed across her face, there and gone in a second. “I thought so, too. One look in her eyes and you can see she’s completely mad.”
“Hey!” I heard the woman herself protest on the edge of the crowd.
“But,” Wendy went on, her stance strengthening, shoulders back, her chin cocked proudly as her stare trailed from the scruff on my jaw, down my throat, over the triangle of bare chest where my shirt had come undone, and then down over my stomach. “That was before I saw that massive package you’re packing for me.” She laughed. “Say that three times fast.”
Her blow struck true, not with steel but with words fired from the sharp arrow of her tongue. I dove across the deck towards her so fast she had no hope of stopping me, catching the tip of my sword under her jaw, forcing her head back so she met my eyes. Hatred boiled in the depths of those stormy eyes, but they were smoky with desire that made my cock throb.
“This package is because the thought of killing you turns me on.”
She shivered, her eyes a little hooded, and I was done for. My world narrowed to her every breath, every shift of her body, every flutter of lashes against her freckled cheeks. “Oh yeah, talk dirty to me,” she crooned, parting her eyes to flash me a stare that oozed wickedness and sin.
“There’s something very wrong inside you,” I muttered.
“You could be inside me,” she said with a grin and then shook her head hard enough that she stumbled. “No, fuck, bad Wendy. I’m going to kill you,” she hissed at me. “Only kill. Nothing else.”
“Then we’re on the same page. We don’t stop until one of us is dead.”
A wild thrill raced through her eyes.
Sterling’s voice cut through the low rumble of voices. “Do you want us to leave so you can fuck each other?”
Wendy snapped her head around to glare at him, teeth bared in a way that sent a thrill down my spine.
My fingers moved before I gave my arm permission to shift an inch, and I bit back a groan at the softness of her cheek against my knuckle.
“Say the word, mutineer,” I whispered. “Just say the word.”
I expected vitriol and threats. The headbutt was a surprise. Light burst behind my eyes and I staggered back with a groaned curse, lifting my hand to cup my nose. It had crumpled, dammit. Blood gushed everywhere.
“You broke my nose,” I snarled, my voice garbled, thick with my curse, my monster.
Wendy winked salaciously. “Wanna break my back in return?”
“I’ll break your spine and rip your spinal cord out of your lifeless body,” I spat, extremely aware of the fact our fight had paused, swords lowered as we circled, eyes on each other.
“Eh.” Wendy shrugged. “Close enough.”
“One of you stab the other,” a coarse voice yelled.
“This is boring,” another remarked.
“Shut it,” I yelled at the same time Wendy snapped, “Shut your ungrateful cake-holes.”
I laughed.
I didn’t mean to. It was highly disturbing. My knuckle still tingled, burning where I’d brushed her face. There was a lot I hadn’t meant to do. Keeping her alive, for example. Locking her in the brig had been a temptation, like I was saving her for later.
“That,” she purred, tilting her neck into the sword at her throat, “is a very sexy laugh, Hook.”
Jesus. There should be a law against her saying my name, especially in that tone. I wanted to pull at the collar of my shirt, but that would only give away how uncomfortable she was making me, how hot.
I was one second away from issuing a graphic, bloody warning when Wendy tore herself away and gave her head a hard shake. “Ignore everything I just said,” she huffed, her expression hardening, brows slamming down over her eyes. “You’re my enemy, and I’m going to chop you into tiny pieces and bury each one on a different island. There’s nothing sexy happening here. Your laugh is mediocre. At best.”
I stepped back with a smirk, more amused than I remembered being in years. I’d spent days fantasising about taking my revenge and making her pay, but now I had the chance to kill her, I found I couldn’t go through with the damn thing. She was a nightmare, a witch, and she’d charmed me.
“I’m losing money here,” Vea yelled, dragging me back to reality. The whole crew were watching, and I was just standing here, staring intently at my enemy. Doing nothing about killing her. Awkward.
“Because I’m generous,” I said, loudly enough to carry to everyone watching, “I’ll give you one chance to surrender, mutineer.”
“And after that, what? Off with my head?” Wendy laughed, dismissive. She wasn’t afraid of me. That was annoying. Thrilling, too. “Go on then, Hooky. Decapitate me.” She held her hands at her sides, sword held casually enough to remind me she could use it, and damn well.
I couldn’t ignore her challenge with the whole crew listening. Dammit. I leapt at her so fast shadows trailed my boots, driving my sword at her shoulder, not her head, because I was weak. How the hell did I become weak for this menace of a woman?
Steel rang against steel, a scrape of sound that made me cringe.
“Do your worst, Hook,” she whispered, a bright light in her blue eyes I knew was reflected in mine. I was enjoying this.
“Oh, believe me,” I replied, driving all my weight against our locked swords until the tip brushed her collar bone just below her bandage. Rage burned up my veins at the sight. I was the only one allowed to harm her. “I will.”
She leapt back, nimble on the deck, and surprise had my head tilting. I’d expected her to reply with stubbornness and anger, but retreating, assessing, before another strike was clever. Almost wise. Wendy and wise didn’t often fit in the same sentence.
I was ready when she came at me, bringing her sword down in an obvious move from above and—
A knife drove into my thigh, knocking me back a step with a snarl that turned to laughter. She threw a knife and I never saw it coming. I barely got my sword up in time to knock hers aside, stunned. Laughter and jeers smattered through the audience. Damn.
“You’re losing your touch,” Wendy taunted, swinging her sword in a lazy threat. “I’m injured and still kicking your ass.”
Losing my mind was more accurate. When she laughed, throwing her head back, I realised I’d said that out loud. Fuck! None of this was going according to plan. Mostly because I didn’t have a plan. I’d been ambushed by this fucking duel.
Enough was enough.
I drove my sword at her, following the move with all my weight, betting on her stopping the blow and smug when she did exactly as I anticipated. But I wasn’t trying to slice off her head. I used the locked swords to push her back a step, and then three, five, seven steps, until people scattered out of the way, crates toppled, and I had Wendy against the railing.
“Give me one good reason not to throw you in the ocean,” I snarled.
“I can swim?” she offered, looking delighted instead of scared. Were none of her reactions normal, for fuck’s sake?
The sound that gathered in my chest was full of monstrous frustration, a growl unlike any I’d made before. “You are the most infuriating person I’ve met in my life,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Thanks,” she chirped.
“Bit rude,” Vea said to my left. “I thought I had that title.”
“Wendy likes stealing titles, don’t you?” I bit out, pushing her into the railing so hard it must have hurt, and I realised I was trying to goad a glimmer of fear from her. She offered nothing, not even a hint, only delight, excitement, violence, and the odd flash of pain. Looking into her eyes was madness, a storm of viciousness and blood and low, sensual promises. I tore my stare away.
“You could always agree to an impasse,” Vea suggested. “We can have two captains.”
“Over my dead body,” I snarled.
“That’s what I was about to say,” Wendy agreed with wide-eyed innocence. “Well, more like order coming right up—one captain’s dead body.”
I drove her into the railing so hard her back arched, but that only put her hips at cock-level and goddammit now we were pressed together. I tore myself away.
Wendy laughed. Giggled. An annoying trill of a sound that made my stomach riot with sudden movement. They were not butterflies. Any butterflies that dared to form would be swiftly executed.
“I have a proposition,” Wendy said, nothing but cockiness in her voice. I stiffened, casting her a warning glare when she walked her fingers up my arm, a devious grin crossing her face.
“I’ve got a better proposition for you, sweetheart,” someone boasted. It couldn’t be anyone who’d spent a great deal of time with Wendy. Even I knew a comment like that would get me stabbed. I grabbed her arm before she could rush across the deck and skewer him. Quicker than I could stop her, she threw her sword into her left hand, drew a small knife with her right, and let it fly through the air.
“Wendy,” I groaned when it buried between Keyvon’s eyes. He’d been part of my crew for over a year, uncouth and obsessed with sex but a good worker. Now he dropped to the deck like a stone, with as much life left in him as a brick.
“That’s a fair response,” Sterling said with a snort. “His cock’s a sad little thing. Smaller than my finger. It would have been a shit proposition, captain.”
“Thank you!” Wendy said, stabbing her finger at the weapons master. “Someone who recognises my authority as captain.”
“For the record, this duel was useless,” Sterling said. “You’re either both captain or neither of you are. There’s no winner tonight.”
“Changed my mind,” Wendy muttered, her expression blackening. “Nobody listen to Sterling.”
I smirked. Watching her be pissed at someone else was entertaining. Her expressions changed as fast as the weather, thrill to victory to dark annoyance. “What’s your proposition, mutineer?”
She leaned closer. “Mostly, I just like the word captain. I don’t care about all the rest of it. You can keep the paperwork and the stress. Actually you can keep all the work. I just want the fun stuff, like standing at the helm.”
As if I’d agree to share my title. “No.”
She huffed and moved a step away, crossing her arms over her chest, a little gingerly. “Can I be the ship’s enforcer then?”
“You just made that up,” I pointed out.
She shrugged. “So? Lots of places have an enforcer. Pubs. Banks. The bakery that one time Benita went mad and thought the whole town was conspiring to steal her baps.”
I sighed.
“Why not a ship?” she went on, batting her lashes at me and then giving my crew the same treatment. “I promise only to kill our enemies and not our crew. Unless they say anything gross, obviously,” she added, glancing at the corpse leaking blood on the deck.
My mouth thinned. I ignored the rush of thrill in my blood, the eagerness to find out what this ship was like with us both on deck, neither of us locked away or cast into the ocean, no disguises or masks, both our monsters revealed. I wanted to know Wendy, truly know her. She intrigued me, cast a spell over me, and it was a madness I was powerless to resist.
I glanced around, reading faces, making sure everyone was here. Even Anton was part of the crowd, looking sore about it, but watching nonetheless.
“I’ll put it to a vote,” I said finally, trying not to smile when she squealed and clapped her hands. “But only if you vow to stop killing people unless they’re enemies of the Banshee.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Fine. Even if they deserve it, I won’t kill any crew. I’ll just cut their balls off.”
I winced, and saw many others doing the same. Rolando cupped his balls and backed up, drawing a snort from me.
“Everyone in favour of this psychopath becoming our enforcer say aye.”
A surprising number of ayes sounded. I quickly did a headcount.
“And those against Wendy becoming our enforcer say nay.”
Ten or so spoke this time, and I watched the madwoman mark each one of them. My hand wrapped around her bicep without my permission, but I didn’t mind this time.
“No killing,” I warned her. “And you’re not allowed to deal a single wound to the opposing crew members; everyone’s allowed an opinion.”
Her nostrils flared, the look she gave me so sulky that a fantasy formed in such detail and colour, even sounds filling my ears. I would fuck that bratty look off her face, and keep going until she forgot her own name, until the only thing she could mewl was captain, over and over.
Shit. She saw the look in my eye and straightened, her eyes flashing with interest.
To deflect, I said, “Looks like you’re the newly minted enforcer of the Death’s Right Hand.”
Her grin was swift and victorious. It wouldn’t stay that way when she learned of her first job.