5. Can I Kelp You? #3
“Learning the ropes?” Captain Night asks, ignoring Astra when they fumble and drop a strange metal device on the deck. I peer over Captain Night’s shoulder as Astra stands and returns their attention to the map.
“So to speak,” I say. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, silently cursing my decision to wear jeans and a sweater. It feels like ages ago that I took the Tube in from the airport and returned home before letting Louise drag me to that fated dock, all in the name of trying to help me and my book.
If I had known what the universe had in store for me today, would I have gone? Or would I have gently nudged her out of my life yet again, only to shower and curl into my bed, trying to decide how long I could put off the inevitable under a looming deadline?
“Captain,” I start hesitantly, “if I may speak plainly…”
“Go on.” His voice is level and quiet, commanding.
I puff out my cheeks, trying not to stare at the way he leans against the railing nonchalantly, throwing the length of his jacket behind him with expert fingers.
Or the way the muscles in his forearm flex under an inky moon as he curls his hand into a fist. How does he look so cool, so goddamn sexy? He makes everything look so easy.
“I don’t fully understand my duties,” I admit. His expression shifts at once.
Captain Night raises a brow, and again, I’m struck by the immediate switch in his countenance, the way he tackles problems aboard his ship, calm and collected—well, besides the whole knife-baring bit, but I can’t fault him for that, considering the circumstances.
The pit in my stomach swirls as he works his jaw, rubbing his chin as he thinks. My fingers itch to reach for the small notebook in my back pocket, to take notes as he speaks, but I keep my hands gripped around the logbook.
“You don’t understand what you are meant to do here?
” he asks. I shake my head. He scratches his stubble, looking out over his ship.
“I think my crew would agree that I am a kind and forgiving captain.” Jack nods, his head bobbing violently.
The corner of Captain Night’s lips curls up, and I wouldn’t necessarily categorize it as a smile, but it’s close.
Sad, maybe. “I want my crew to be happy, and of late, they have not been.”
He pushes away from the railing, stalking toward me until my back is pinned against the stairs to the upper deck.
Sweat beads on my brow as Captain Night brandishes the same leather-hilted knife he pressed against my throat hours earlier, the metal gleaming under the sun.
He runs a careful finger over the blade, twirling it expertly in his hands.
This is it, I think, closing my eyes. He’s already fed up. It took less than a full day aboard his ship, and it’s the end of me.
I feel the tip of the knife beneath my chin, lifting my face until I’m forced to open my eyes.
Captain Night tilts his head, surveying me.
This close, I can see a faint sliver of a line over his throat, a long-healed scar partially hidden by the scruff of his patchy facial hair.
I’m waiting for the pain of his verdict, to feel the blade slice into my skin and end it all.
His features soften a fraction, and my heart skitters from the force of it.
“You are not fit to be a pirate, that much is obvious, Laszlo.” Yeah, I agree with him there.
“But,” he continues, “I have always believed that pirates aren’t born, they’re made.
Every single person in this world has the potential to become a pirate.
” He pulls the blade back and sheathes it in his belt in one fluid motion.
With knowing fingers, he slips the logbook free from my hold, his calloused fingers brushing mine.
The accidental caress sends me over the edge, dizziness blurring my vision as I grip the railing behind me for dear life. I’ve never wanted a stranger to touch me so much.
Licking a finger, he thumbs through the logbook before opening it to a spread and turning it for me to see. I gape at him, my thoughts a mess as I take in his full lips before my gaze slips down to where he’s pointing on the page.
He leans toward me, and his smell overtakes me again, that intoxicating mix of tobacco and sugar that scrambles every single one of my brain cells. Does he even know what he’s doing to me? Is Captain Night aware of the reactions he elicits from me?
He tilts his head and in a low, commanding voice says, “You listen to the crew aboard this ship, Laszlo. You help Pip serve and prep meals, you mend clothes and sails and rope. You do Mick’s bidding, Jack’s bidding, and above all, mine.
You will stand by my side and make certain this ship is in working order, including all crew.
This is position is as important as mine, Astra’s, Jack’s, or Mick’s, do you understand? ”
He taps the page, and I blink down, the scrawled letters blending into one another as my mind goes fuzzy. It feels like he has a spell over me, and damn it, I can’t snap myself out of it.
“Jack will work with you and this logbook day in and day out. Do I make myself clear? Or do I need to find someone else for the job?” he asks, hand reaching for the hilt of his knife in a warning.
“N-no, Captain.”
My heart pounds in my throat. I’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear the thrumming, even over the voices of the crew, over the crashing waves against the hull. Captain Night smiles before slamming the book closed and thrusting it into my arms, his fingers sliding over mine as he pulls away.
“Good, now get to work.”
I am left to stare after him, mouth agape as he disappears down the stairs and into his cabin below. He is everything a pirate captain needs to be. He is terrifying and commanding, calm and calculating. He is suave and sexy, even if he doesn’t realize it. But above all, he is relentless.
And though everything in me is pulled to him, to his voice and his smell, I will do my best to steer clear.
I throw up my walls, try to barricade the doors to this stuttering heart of mine.
I fear with him leading this ship that I am doomed, and if I follow the burn in my throat or tug in my chest, it could only mean my downfall.