Chapter 28
Unwrapped Wrath
SYORAN
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
The growl that rolled from Caspian matched my internalized self-loathing.
I was just as angry at myself as he was.
I’d fallen into Rohen’s trap and allowed her free roam of the ship.
When I brought the idea forward, Caspian had been more than against it, only deciding to allow it if I kept my eyes on her.
Something I’d failed to do. And because of that failure, more than half of our crew members were butchered by her hand.
“I said,” Saph continued, her demeanor mirroring his. “We are in the Sea of Ellira, nearing the Dark Ocean bordering Thornebay, Captain.”
“How?” My question came as a near-whisper.
I was already toeing a fine line with the man who fisted a whiskey glass tight enough that it’d cracked, and the last thing I wanted to do was enrage him further.
Caspian’s temperament was not one anyone wished to toy with.
The boundary between his playful ire and his blooming wrath was clear, and the release of the latter was not something anyone would survive.
Well, no one but Sapphira fucking Maris.
Where I’d attempted to grant him enough room to release without adding more to his searing flames, Sapphira was the polar opposite. She always elected to push him until he was beyond the point of return, a man blinded by the years of torment that coiled beneath his skin.
While I was familiar with his intensity when he was angry, the sudden eruption of his insurmountable indignation was rare.
It was something I witnessed in only a handful of instances, each time ending in a bloodbath.
It was a release of carnage. I’d watched him, a human without any influence, tear a man limb from limb with his bare hands.
His trauma and compounding rage had shaped him into a ruthlessness I was worried would devour him whole. And in time, watching his unraveling ensue at a rate that only seemed to increase day by day, I’d only become more fearful of not if, but when it would take place.
The liquor bottle trembled on his desk as his palm collided with the dark oak. “I am not in the mood, Sapphira.”
Unwavering, his tone presented a line, one I’d prayed to the gods for all of our sakes she wouldn’t cross. My gaze remained fixed on her, and my jaw feathered with the slight tick curling at the corner of her mouth.
“You’re the one who asked me what—”
I cut her off before she could curl her talons deeper into his mind. “For fuck’s sake, Sapphira! Stop being a cunt and—”
Her palm collided with the side of my face with a sharpness I hadn’t expected. Heat radiated across my skin, the audible collision immediately sending a wave of further humiliation through me.
But that was all it took.
Caspian was up and over his desk faster than Saph could drop her hand.
Fingers curling around the wrist she weaponized and her slender neck, he slammed her into the wall with enough force to knock a few books from the shelf positioned beside it.
Lifting her off the ground with unmistakable ease, his lips peeled back, a deep snarl consuming his quarters.
“If you ever lay your hand on him like that again, I will saw it from your fucking arm. Do you understand?”
“C-Cas, I—”
He pulled forward just enough to create a gap, driving her back until her head cracked against the wood. “I believe I asked you a question, which can be answered with a yes or no. There is no need for further articulation. I’ve heard enough from you in one fucking day, Sapphira Maris.”
The fire she carried was snuffed out immediately, his distaste enough to silence her. Without offering a word, she nodded weakly.
“Good.” Loosening his hold, he stepped away, unbothered about whether or not she collided with the ground. “Now get the fuck out of my quarters.”
“Y-Yes, sir,” she mumbled as she rubbed her throat, backing away toward the door. Once she was positioned close enough that she believed she held any chance of escaping him, she opened her mouth once more. “Which way would you like me to direct the ship, Captain?”
“We scout for a day,” Caspian replied matter-of-factly.
“If we don’t stumble across that bitch, then we will head inland to inform Malrik of his treacherous whore’s mishaps.
At this point, I don’t give a fuck if he gets his hands on her again, but he is the only one permitted to do so until I murder him alongside her.
Her fucking heart, her fucking life, is mine. ”
It was one of the highest acts of treason—executing one directly affiliated with the crown—but he’d meant every word. If Rohen’s goal had been pissing him off to the point that the idea of the treasure we’d sought for years vanished from his mind, she’d accomplished it.
It’d been an hour since Saph left, and we’d sat in silence the entire time.
Caspian sat in the scarlet-backed chair, his gaze fixed on the knots in the wood that made up his desk.
The only time he bothered to look up was to pour himself another glass of whiskey.
With his mind set on carving a path of destruction, he’d started with himself, downing a whole bottle, and now halfway through a second.
“Cas, I know you’re upset—”
“Do you?” he asked, his crimson irises finding mine. “Do you truly understand the idiocy you displayed, Syoran?”
“Yes, I—”
“You are responsible for their deaths! You are the reason our decks were littered with corpses last night! You!”
“For Ellira’s godsdamned sake, let me speak!
” I shouted over him, driving my knuckles into the oak as I pushed myself to standing.
“You think I don’t know that, Caspian? You believe I’m that mindless to the point I’ve placed all the blame on Rohen, to what?
Clear my conscience? There is nothing to clear here.
If you want my fucking head, call for it.
If you wish for me to walk the plank, order it, and I will do so willingly.
But you will not sit here and drink yourself to death! ”
He bit the inside of his cheek, his tongue darting out to trail across his lips. “And why would you give a fuck when you were so godsdamned adamant about keeping that cunt unshackled on this ship? You knew what she was capable of. She could’ve very well killed me, and you—”
I was around the corner of his desk faster than he’d anticipated, my fingers curling around the collar of his shirt as I ripped him from where he sat.
Yanking him toward me until our noses brushed, I seethed.
“I know. I fucking know! Gods! Just tell me what fucking punishment you wish to dish out, Vayne. Tell me what you want—”
“What I want?” His rasped voice ghosted across my skin as he leaned forward, his utterance brushing against my ear. “What I want is for you to fuck me.”
Did he just—?
Washing away my shock, his hand dove into my hair, and our lips crashed together.
It was a kiss consumed by pent-up frustration and unrelenting desire, a yearning he’d expressed to me in the past that I’d consistently shot down.
But now? Now Caspian fucking Vayne was all I could smell, all I could think about.
The scent of the sea encapsulated me; crisp, refreshing, and wholly alluring. It was the embodiment of the ocean, yet in the same breath, everything Cas emanated: deadly yet thrilling. And instead of pushing away, rejecting him as I always had for fear of complicating our relationship, I gave in.
Groaning against him, my fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his breeches as I tugged him flush against me. I opened wider for him, granting his tongue access to do whatever he wished to me, for there wasn’t anything I couldn’t take from my captain.
His chest hitched, one hand exploring beneath my silk shirt while he kept the other buried in my locks. Tugging harshly, I hissed, and he chuckled, smiling against my mouth. Tongue darting out, he brushed against my bottom lip, his words following, sultry and guttural.
“I knew you’d be a good kisser.”
“Shut up,” I sighed, melting into his touch, fingertips trailing up my abdomen before he elected to tease one of my nipples. “Are you just going to toy with me or—?”
Pulling back from me, his irrefutable smirk graced his expression. Palm flattening against my chest, he spun us before pressing back against my sternum, ushering me toward his bed. “I believe I told you that my want was for you to fuck me, Syoran Kao.”
Shit.
My cock ached with the demand, and I acted.
As the backs of my thighs greeted the mattress, I wrapped my hand around his throat.
Planting my foot behind his, I shoved him harsh enough that he tripped.
Tightening my hold, I flipped our positions once more, forcing him against the plush comforter by his neck.
Slipping my thigh between his legs, I brought it to rest against him, my thumb trailing along his stubble-coated jaw. “I’m unsure you’d be able to handle me, Captain.”
“Prove it,” he growled, rolling his hips forward to find friction.
“Fine.” Without wasting another second, I released him.
Shoving myself off the bed, I walked backward, making my way to the couch positioned across from it. “Undress.”
“That’s your job—”
“I said,” I snarled, my brows narrowing as I sank into the cushions, “undress.”
His jaw feathered, but he did as I commanded.
Fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, he pulled the linen from his frame, disclosing the bolts of lightning that adorned the entirety of his left side.
The fresh wounds that littered his skin had hardened into agitated scars, and questions bloomed about the speed of their healing.
But with him standing before me, my attentiveness was far too occupied to ask.
Far too occupied with him. Continuing my pass, I ignored the brand of the royal crest settled into the flesh just above his heart, and admired the markings on him that I knew I was responsible for.