If I Go Down with This Ship

PROLOGUE

I’m going to die, I think, grasping the captain’s wrists and arms as I choke, my toes scraping the deck for purchase. Oh, he is strong.

“Are you wearing my jacket?” the captain asks low, spittle flying.

Yup, I’m going to die.

And then I smell him, that hint of tobacco and salt, the sweetness of burnt sugar nibbling the edges. I clear my throat, the scent making me dizzy. It must be his coat; I would know that smell from anywhere.

“I would never have worn it if I had known,” I croak. I make to remove it, but it’s impossible with him locking me in a stranglehold. Narrowing his eyes, the captain eases his grip, allowing me to shrug out of it. I slide off the jacket and hold it out toward him.

“Why should you live?” he asks, taking it.

I look from the captain to the jacket, my tongue heavy. This is it, the final question in my trial aboard this ship. From my research, I gather any other pirate would have run me through by now, bound me, and tossed me into the sea.

“I can be useful,” I lie. I have never done a hard day’s work in my life. My hands are soft from years of writing, and if he takes one look at them, he’ll know. But I have to lie, I have to hope that I can make myself useful.

A useless pirate is … useless. There must be something I can do aboard this ship, somewhere I can help.

But he just tilts his head and raises a brow at me as if he already knows, and my stomach drops.

Slowly, he shrugs on the jacket, and I can see it fits him much better than it does me, the garment tailored to his form.

I try not to stare at the way it hugs his broad shoulders and elongates his torso, or the way the blue pops against his suntanned skin.

I’ve always liked the idea of pirates, but I’m starting to wonder, do I have a thing for them?

“Take him below,” the captain orders with a wave of his hand.

My cheeks flame as he meets my eyes. Goddamn it, I do have a thing for pirates. Looking after him almost wistfully, I sigh.

Well, fuck me.

I’m screwed.