Chapter 3
Copper-haired Woman
CASPIAN
That foolish little cunt believed she could outrun me? It was humorous that she thought she’d make it a few blocks through the streets of Darswyth before I exited the brothel and inevitably caught up.
Where other women swooned over me, dropping their panties without a second thought, redheads had never been my thing.
They were unrelenting and ruthless, but there was something about her that pissed me off more than the average: the fire burning within the very marrow of her bones that I couldn’t wait to snuff out.
I'd willingly bite if she wanted to entertain me in a game of chase while clad in lingerie, for I had no problem worshipping a woman. I just hoped that she caught the intention in my gaze as she peered back over her shoulder at me with undeniable fear, a terror I wished to instill in every person who believed they’d survive my indignation when they disobeyed.
Even as her heart drummed in trepidation, submission had illuminated her irises, and I’d be a lying man if I claimed the sight didn’t turn me on.
She was so thin. So fragile. So breakable.
Her decision to flee, regardless of my warning, made one thing undeniably clear: she was na?ve in believing I’d allow anything I’d claimed as mine to escape.
Hunting ran in my blood, and I had been on the prowl since I was a teenager.
Nearly two decades’ worth of scouring the depths for a treasure many believed was nothing more than a fairytale pulsated through my veins, igniting a hunger that’d never cease.
Sniffing her out would be easy in a world catered to men like me.
I was born of a need to obtain—a need to control.
My essence hummed with the desire to claim whatever I pleased, even if it wasn’t mine.
She was no exception, and yet, in a room full of far more appealing women with luscious curves and lips that would easily part to please my cock, she became a fixation, and that alone pissed me off.
The insatiable thirst that she wrought, a craving I couldn’t decipher, agitated me beyond means.
I’d always known what I wanted, even after I was sold off to the royal family as a young boy.
The king wasted no time molding me into a mercenary, someone heartless and soulless by definition.
Serving him had been my pre-determined fate, but so had my restless yearning to become a pirate.
It was a dream I never gave up on, no matter how many times my owner tried to beat it out of me.
But, in the supposed darkness of my past—something I called mere lore because I gave two shits less about how haunted it made me—I’d met the very man who now kept my head above water. My life raft amidst the treacherous waves of life that threatened to swallow me into abyssal madness.
My best friend and only weakness.
His palms met my shoulders, shoving me forward with a brutality I knew would only ever belong to him. Having experienced the strength of masculinity with the many stout men I’d exchanged blows with, him included, none of my opponents had come close to matching his vigor.
As I stumbled forward, his fingers tangled themselves in my hair.
Ripping me back against him, cold steel came to rest against my throat and the scar of my past that lingered there.
If it were any other, I would’ve ripped their esophagus clean from their body for touching a spot that continued to torment me, but Syoran Kao remained the only exception.
His chest rumbled against my back, each word coming out with seething disquietude. “Caspian Vayne, I thought we agreed to come here for a brief detour and not cause a scene while our men cleaned the ship?”
Humming, I leaned into him. “If you wished to take me out on a date, you could’ve just asked. You, out of everyone, should know what happens when a blade meets my skin. You threatening me with a good time?”
“I’ll take you out back if you keep mouthing off.
” His dagger left my neck only for his knee to slam into the back of my thigh, forcing me toward the front door.
“You purchased a whore for your entertainment, who, might I add, has successfully gotten away because of your hot-headed temperament. Not to pour salt into an already gaping wound, but you’ve lost your chance of being tied to a headboard and marked by a woman who would’ve happily obliged, because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. ”
Rolling my eyes, I glanced over my shoulder.
“First and foremost, no one escapes me, ever. Second, we both get off on beating the shit out of aristocrats. I saw a chance to release the pent-up anger I’d harbored since our last sail and figured you’d prefer I bloodied up some stranger instead of a crewmate.
Third, I did not purchase her for myself.
She is a present for our men that I just so happened to drop twenty-five thousand bits on because, believe it or not, something stirs in the cavernous depths of my heart. ”
“Oh, I know you’re not heartless. You do a terrible job at pretending you are.
” Disbelief replaced my ego, and the corner of his lips curled at the notable shift.
“I am curious, though. Did you decide to purchase the prostitute for them out of your pure, unfiltered kindness, or because you’re concerned that even the feared Captain Vayne will be unable to tame someone as fervent as her? ”
Fucking redheads. Fucking Syoran.
My brows narrowed. “You know my type; she is the furthest thing from it.”
He shrugged indifferently. “They say your taste buds change every seven years.”
“Alright, fuck off.”
The renowned chuckle I’d found comfort in fell from him as he tapped his finger against his wrist. “Time's ticking, Cas. You’ve got twenty-five thousand gold on the run, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you better get to chasing.”
I’d never chased women because they’d always desperately pursued me, wishing to have me three fingers deep inside them before I stretched them out even more with my cock, but something about this little bitch was different.
And just like everything else, I wouldn’t stop until I got my hands on her.
Rain drummed against the terracotta roofs, blending with the sound of the nightlife that filled the streets of Darswyth. The persistent drops dampened my clothing, making the linen shirt I’d chosen to wear cling to my frame.
A gaggle of women from the brothel passed by, eyeing me like a worthy meal, and it took everything in me not to venture off with the three of them.
Gods, a foursome sounded far more heavenly than chasing down this wretched whore, and the thought alone forced me to adjust my hardening cock in my breeches.
Passing by the evening market, I raised a hand to greet a few noticeable faces. The criminals who ventured into the various ports knew my name, and every time they saw me, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation to treat me with the regard I demanded—a respect they knew wouldn’t get them killed.
The word of my crew traveled quickly: The Bloodmarked. A shattered compass rose was our emblem, blood dripping from its lower point to symbolize a crew known for violence and tragedy, destined to sail alongside the cruel confines of fate, achieving whatever we sought.
Whenever our flag became visible from the shore, many cleared the way, most leaving the area to avoid any potential damage we planned to inflict.
Townspeople whispered of us, fearful of our pillaging and relentlessness, which was an achievement I carried pridefully.
Other pirates knew not to mess with us, though one remained a persistent thorn in my side.
The Scarlet Tempest, Alastair Seridean’s crew, a man I loathed with every fissure of my poisoned being. Someone whose lineage I’d bathe in once my sword finally plunged through his chest.
A booth caught my eye, my gaze falling on a man I’d frequently purchased ale from whenever we took a break from the blissfulness of the sea to wander the port town tucked against the Capital’s walls.
His weathered face hinted at his experience with the tides, which was the biggest reason I didn’t mind engaging in conversation with him.
Gray hair hung in untamed waves to his shoulders, his beard blending seamlessly with it.
His lips parted into an enormous grin, numerous teeth missing from his cheerful smile.
He patted his customer on the shoulder, tucking a plethora of coins into his jacket pocket.
Passing off the expensive bottle, he waved the men off to greet whatever buyer he could lure in next.
His stormy eyes scanned the crowd before settling on me, his expression igniting with unmistakable excitement.
“Caspian, my boy!” He moved from behind his cart, hobbling toward me. Grabbing my shoulder with a worn hand, he looked up at me from the near foot I had on him in height. “How have you been, lad?”
“I am well, Arthur. I see you’ve been rather busy?”
He laughed loudly and heartily. “Unlike you, being the wise man that you are, none of the other sailors have minded my pricing. I have been able to charge thirty percent over my original margin, and they continue to pay up like the mindless drunks they are.”
“Sounds like a profitable venture.” I smiled, my palm meeting his weathered coat as I leaned in to whisper the warning I’d given him every time our paths crossed.
“But be careful. You never know when the gods will grace you with another captain like me who's willing to cut your fingers off for the bits you stole.”
Raising his arm, he lifted his wrist, displaying the three missing appendages I’d sawed off during a night market over a year ago. “They were worthless anyhow.”
“A handful of digits for—”
“—A handful of scams,” he finished the mantra that had become a laughable talking point between us.
Running the two remaining fingers—his thumb and ring—through his beard, his eyes glinted with the question he always posed whenever I was in town.
“What courtesy drink would you like tonight, Captain Vayne?”
“Sadly, I am running on borrowed time this evening.” Freeing a coin from the pouch on my waist, I flipped it into the air before extending it to him. “Tell me, Arthur, have you seen a copper-haired woman wearing a lace bodice running through your streets?”
His mouth curled with a near-feline grace, a mischievous grin forming. “I had a feeling the whore was yours.” Snatching the gold from my grasp, he gestured toward the alleyway with his chin. “She ran that way not too long ago.”
Raising my brows, I extended the same wickedness in his direction. “Thank you, my fellow merchant. You never let a man down.”
“For you, Caspian, happily.” Dropping the coin into his breast pocket, his gray gaze met mine again, a storm of wariness brewing. “Though let me deliver my parting words to you with caution. While I may have been dishonest once, my care for you and your men is not a falsification.”
His eyes shifted to the shoreline briefly, moonlight splitting between the clouds, before he turned back to me.
“I warn you to remain vigilant when your blood is polluted, and you are chasing a woman who carries the aura of the Tide Eaters with her. The wrath of Ellira lingers in the sea, and I fear the one you’re seeking will become the very thing that swallows you whole. ”