Chapter 30
Intertwined Destiny
CASPIAN
Iknew that flag too well—its blood-red hurricane spiral adorned with two crossed swords, contrasting with the black canvas it sat on. Watching through Saph’s collapsible spyglass as the ship ported at the docks of Thornebay, its light-washed oak wood only served as a beacon of confirmation.
The Scarlet Tempest.
“Alastair fucking Seridean, you pitiful prick,” I seethed, my wrath only building with the sinking realization.
My former best friend had found the woman I owned, the woman who belonged to me.
The fucking woman who murdered half of my crew when I’d given her every strand of my patience.
It was laughable, truly, how much the gods wished to spite me, and it’d never ceased.
Not when the king purchased me for his satisfaction, or the night when I’d somehow failed in killing the man who still elected to follow me.
And definitely not fucking now.
With shoulders rising alongside a snarled inhale, my fist slammed against the banister with enough force to splinter. The flick of my tongue against my canine joined the action, an unamused laugh mingling with a scoff as I lowered the telescope.
“What a fun little reunion.”
Booted footsteps drummed to meet me. “Is everything okay, Captain?”
Syoran.
Was everything okay? It was such a convoluted question.
I was alive and breathing, sure, but the loathing that’d burrowed itself into the very marrow of my bones had ignited a fire that was impossible to tame.
And it would remain that way until I got my hands on her again, until I executed Alastair for good and forced her back on my ship just to do the same.
Alastair should’ve known better than to put his filth-laden hands on something of mine, and I knew he’d deliberately chosen to spite me. He’d always been that type of man. Hell, he was the same way even when we were kids, always doing what he could to test just how far my mercy extended.
Which was precisely what he’d learned that late winter evening.
It was a night I wouldn’t forget, a night when I’d stumbled across the plans he’d compiled with one goal: sabotage.
He’d mapped out his intended betrayal in lengthened detail, his unmistakable handwriting greeting me with an anguish I’d never been able to part with.
I’d protected him, walked alongside him, plundered the continent with him, and he’d taken every fucking sacrifice for granted.
We hadn’t just been friends, but we’d shared a bed as lovers many times, memories that now twisted in the back of my mind and fed the seething hatred tainting my heart.
And then there was the flip-side: Rohen’s actions. They reflected his plot as if what had been written on parchment was a foretold prophecy I’d still, somehow, failed to catch.
While, with her, I hadn’t stumbled across a scroll with outlined details of my demise, my gut had warned me that Rohen was far more deadly than she let on.
The overlap of the events? The mirrored attempt on my life?
Each alignment was too improbable to be a mere coincidence, leading me to wonder whether a far greater influence was at work.
Every prophetic word I’d read from the journals I’d stolen from the palace’s archive seemed to hint at it all.
Still, whenever I’d attempted to decipher their code, my rage overrode my ability to deduce anything coherent enough to pose an argument.
It was as if the pages were…
“Cursed,” I mumbled out loud, not having realized how far I’d slipped inside my own head.
“What?” Syoran’s timbre returned, confusion constricting the single syllable. “Caspian, what is going on?”
“I think there might be—”
Before I could enlighten him about my sinking realization, a seething burn erupted in my chest. The pain was so unbearable that I had to catch myself from collapsing, fingers curling around the banister with an intensity that made my knuckles whiten.
A rasped wheeze replaced any utterance I attempted to articulate, my vision blackening as the affliction spread.
The heat split, and, as if it were a rope, it slithered around my neck and cut off my ability to gather even the smallest amount of oxygen.
“Cas… Cas!” Wide-eyed, Syoran slipped an arm around me to force me upright. “What is it? What’s wrong?!”
Scratching at my neck, I shook my head, shadows flocking into my line of sight.
Hands twitching, that all-too-familiar numbness swept through my limbs.
But just as the claw of my unconsciousness curled around my mind, the sensation vanished, oxygen waterfalling into my lungs with a relentlessness that had me coughing.
Ribs expanding, I heaved with the newfound assault as I slackened in his hold. Palming my chest where the agony had originated, I brushed over the brand nestled over my heart that carried the weight of my past and the corruption of the crown.
I swallowed once, recognition sparking with newfound horror. The king’s influence extended far beyond the walls of the palace he occupied, weaving through my mottled skin with the capability of snuffing the truth from my lips. Which only meant one thing…
Everything I’d uncovered, every godsdamned word I'd written in my journals, was accurate.
“Caspian, what in the literal—”
“I-I’m fine…” I rasped, rubbing my throat.
“You’re fine? What the fuck was that about then, huh? You were fucking suffocating, and the pain lacing your features was far worse than any I’ve seen on you before!”
My voice was bound. My fucking ability to speak was censored.
I couldn’t tell him even if I wanted to.
But how long had this been my reality? Why hadn’t He told me?
How—
Prophetic.
The fucking journals. The fucking dreams.
Pushing myself fully upright, I ran a hand through my curls. Jaw feathering, I clung to the overarching web of possibilities, of implications that went far beyond our understanding.
And while I wished to tear through each thread, my desire to snuff out Alastair and Rohen reigned far higher on my list of priorities. Whatever was going on within the capital and the rivers of corruption that streamed from it could wait.
“Caspian, seriously—”
“Inform the crew we are pulling off at Raghar’s Spite.”
“What?” he seethed, his confusion prevalent. “Are we just going to pretend that didn’t happen? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Yes, and probably.” I shrugged indifferently before training my attention on him. “By the grace of the gods, we were spit out here by that storm for a reason, and I would like some fucking alcohol and perhaps a quick fuck before I butcher that cunt.”
Three glasses of whiskey deep, I found myself nestled in the pirate haven that was Raghar’s Spite. It had been nearly too easy to secure a room. As I passed various other criminals seeking momentary reprieve on my way up—from pirates to royals alike—I’d settled on two individuals to join me.
A heated grunt escaped me as I buried my cock in the woman’s throat. Fingers tangled in her hair, I rested my forearm on the wall as her male counterpart explored my frame, brushing across my ass with a sluggish tease.
I was the furthest thing from a desperate man and was incredibly selective over who I bed, but the two who worked simultaneously to please me had checked off all my boxes.
Sweat glossed over her flawless mahogany skin, glistening beneath the rays that filtered through the room’s window.
With her dark eyes fixated on me, I watched as she took every inch, that sultry gaze never slipping from me.
Allowing myself to partake in the act of visual exploration, my attention swept over her curvy frame, finding her fingers, which rubbed generous circles on her clit.
“Fuck… Shit,” I huffed as her shoulders rolled forward with a harsh gag, her nose coming to rest flush against my lower abdomen.
A sun-kissed arm wrapped around me from behind, before fingers slipped beneath my jaw.
Forced from the sight in front of me, my gaze fell level with the vibrant blue stare that awaited me.
His dark brows narrowed, short, light copper-brown wavy hair pairing beautifully with the contrasting hue.
A smile painted his scarred lips, the freckles dusting his cheeks serving as a reminder of the woman I was tracking down.
God, I need to stop thinking about her.
Turning his wrist, he presented his palm. “Spit.”
My length twitched, which earned a moan from the woman on her knees before me as she played with herself. Gathering a mouthful of saliva, I delivered what he’d commanded. Without a second of hesitation or warning, he circled my entrance, a spike of pleasure ripping through me as I slapped the wall.
“Oh, fuck!”
“That’s right, pretty boy,” the man crooned as he nipped at my ear. “Fall into every ounce of ecstasy-filled touches we have to offer you.”
Before I could form a rebuttal of my own, he forced my head against the wall, his cock coming to rest over my hole.
Simultaneously, the woman opened wider, her tongue flattening along the underside of my length before swiping lower to tease all of me.
The dual sensation threatened my stability, my knees buckling slightly, but a muscular forearm swept around my middle, hoisting me up at the same time he drove into me.
A gasped groan was my answer, my teeth burrowing into my bottom lip as his hips fell flush with my ass. “Mmm, fuck yes.”
“Right there?” he questioned as he slowly pulled out before thrusting forward once again.
“Y-Yes… Yes, shit. Right there.”
Muffled moans flowed from beneath me, the woman increasing her speed as she sloppily coated my erection in her saliva.
Mixing with her sounds of pleasure, a gravelly grunt rolled forward from behind me as the man matched her pace, the two working in tandem as they coaxed me closer and closer to my peak.
With the coil in my abdomen slowly unfurling, an inescapable tingle flushed my body, and with it, my release followed.
Covering the back of the woman’s throat with my seed, the male continued to bury himself in me as he chased his own climax, my moans slowly transforming to a slew of jumbled whimpers.
Standing, mahogany fingers glided along the side of my face as she caressed my beard.
Slowly trailing behind my ear and down my jaw, she dipped her head to the side, digits curling around my cheeks as she forced my lips to part.
Once satisfied, a sultry smile upturned the corners of her mouth before she spat my essence into the back of my throat.
“Such a handsome pirate,” she hummed, tongue trailing over her vibrant white teeth. With the quick rise of her arm, her palm connected with the side of my face with a harsh slap, the force behind it making my ears ring. “Now swallow, Caspian Vayne.”
Obliging her order, my throat bobbed, and while I held her gaze, basking in the ethereal beauty she embodied, my mind remained settled on one woman and one woman alone.
Rohen fucking Levitte.
And it was then that I knew the only way I could rid her from my mind was by driving my blade so deep into her chest that her heart instantly stopped beating.
That was if she had a heart, because I was slowly becoming convinced that she and I were far too alike.
If that were the truth, she was just as soulless as I, and that in and of itself was dangerous.
Because we were the curators of our own downfall. We were each other’s weaknesses. We were entangled in one another’s fates.
And only one of us would survive.