Page 9 of Stealing the Merman

In his heart, he hoped one day he’d be more than a cheap lay to someone he cared about. Though until then, he’d take a good fuck any time.

He let out a happy sigh and reached for his clothes. The shirt needed washing anyway, so he used a clean sleeve to wipe the cum off Conall’s chest. As he cleaned him, he chanced a glance at Conall’s face. Bone-deep satisfaction played on his features, every muscle relaxed, the corners of his mouth curved up.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” Conall said as he sat up and stretched in the chair.

“I’m glad if I’ve been of service, sir,” Darin said to make it abundantly clear he was up for another night. Hopefully many.

He was about to tend to his duties around the cabin when Conall lifted his chin and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “Go to bed.”

Darin blinked in surprise. Did Conall not want him around? Darin mentally shook his head. Of course, he didn’t. Darin was a cabin boy, and he had done what Conall expected of him. Now he preferred to be alone, and Darin better get going.

He slipped into his breeches, closing enough buttons for them to stay on his hips while he escaped to his cabin. As he walked out of the captain’s quarters, he cast a look over his shoulder at Conall. He was pulling off his shirt, and in the dim light, Darin saw the sunburn scars on his shoulders. Darin turned, not wanting to disturb his privacy.

He scurried into his cabin, which was the size of a closet. It consisted of a bunk bed fixed to the wall, a chest for his meager belongings underneath it and a sliver of space to get in and out of the room. It was perfect, as the alternative was sleeping with the rest of the crew in hammocks under deck. After a childhood spent in the orphanage’s dorm, Darin appreciated his own space. No more crying boys until past midnight, no more toddlers that woke him because they peed their beds and were afraid to go to the matrons. Some men preferred the hammocks as they swung with the movements of the ship, making it easier to sleep. Darin preferred the quiet, the luxury of sleeping in a secluded space. If only he had a special person to share it with. If only he had someone to call home. Because to Darin, the idea of home had never been a place. He didn’t care whether he was tied to a location or not. What he wanted was the warm blanket of love that he could take anywhere.

Chapter Five

Conall

Why the heck had Conall waited four long weeks before taking Darin? What a waste. He should’ve asked him to his cabin that first night after hiring him.

Conall started taking advantage of him daily. Fucking Darin was pure stress relief. Every time he sank into that tight ass, all the pressure and worry drained out of him as he gave over to the delights of a young, firm body. Conall liked everything about Darin, from his easy-going nature and his happy laughter to his distinct looks. He even liked his awful Cockney accent.

When he was with Darin, he forgot about Anne’s betrayal. He forgot the next raid would risk the lives of everyone on board. He forgot the alcoholic father that beat him as a child and the overtaxed mother too busy keeping the farm going to concern herself with the worries of her children. He forgot everything except the present and the one memory that lingered in all his encounters with Darin—Finn. Ever since he’d told him about the merman, warm recollections of his time on the island floated through his mind whenever he saw Darin.

More often than not, he bent Darin over a table and had his way with him. Conall never took his clothes off, preferring to simply unbutton his breeches and dive into Darin’s naked body. He asked him to enter his cabin in the early morning when the air was at its coolest—any later and it became so hot, he’d have no choice but to remove his clothing. There was no need for Darin to see the sunburn scars on his back. There was no need for Conall to shed the protective layer of thin cotton that he wore to sex like a knight wore full-body armor into battle. Because Anne had left her mark on his soul, whether he liked it or not.

One sweltering afternoon,The Pillaging Seaslay in waiting in a bay at the northern tip of Eleuthera. Waves broke on the sheer rock face framing one side of the bay, water splashing into the sky. Overhead, seagulls screamed, circling the sea in their hunt for fish. To the east, a tower of dark clouds was forming. A storm was coming. If Conall was in luck, it’d pass and hit the coast of Florida instead of the Bahamas. That’d mean faster travel going forward. With slow winds thus far, the journey to Eleuthera had taken longer than expected, and Conall was desperate for the next raid to go well and secure booty for the crew.

His ship was anchored and hidden from view, which also meant they wouldn’t be able to spot incoming merchantmen. He’d sent out a reconnaissance party overland, ordering them to cross Eleuthera’s jungle and to report when a cargo-bearing ship was in sight. They returned with fabulous news: a Dutch flute flying the British flag was approaching. With its flat bottom and wide build, such a ship was designed to carry enormous amounts of cargo, and coming from overseas, it was likely bringing valuable manufactured goods and luxury items in huge quantities. The money box would be filled to the brim. But while a flute was an ideal cargo hauler, its design meant it was slow and cumbersome—easy prey for a small and agile pirate ship, every deck stuffed with cannons.

Although Conall was captain, important decisions were made democratically on pirate ships. The crew voted with an overwhelming majority in favor of raiding the flute.

Conall waited as long as he could, preferring their target close at the time of attack. Darin calculated the trajectory and speed of the Dutch flute, estimating when it’d pass the bay and seeThe Pillaging Seas. The Jolly Roger hoisted, they lurked at the edge of the bay, hidden by the island.

A successful raid was about putting the fear of god into the victims. In the attack, Conall’s men would be outnumbered three to one or worse. Most raids were successful because sailors knew how ruthless pirates were. If pirates encountered resistance, they butchered the crew, maiming and then killing everyone except for a couple of designated survivors, who would go on to spread the tale of their narrow survival at the next port.

All sailors knew what awaited them if they didn’t cooperate. Of course, their captain could order them to fight. But usually, they weren’t loyal to the captain, who was some aristocratic bastard treating them worse than animals. Mutiny was common, and surrender was the easiest option for a merchant ship—then they’d live and sinceThe Pillaging Seaswas a sloop, small in comparison and only able to carry a fraction of the cargo, they’d get to keep most of their riches too.

“Sir,” Darin said, stepping up to Conall on the forecastle deck at the bow of the ship, “the men are ready.” The wind blew into his hair, the ginger strands glowing like copper in the afternoon sun.

“Good. Tell them to unfurl the sails. All of them. I want us to sweep out of the bay so fast, they won’t know what hit them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Conall’s hand went to the hilt of the cutlass at his hip. His fingers trailed over the ribbed bronze, the weapon providing cold comfort. He eyed Darin’s weapon belt from which two flintlock pistols and a saber hung. How would he do in battle? They’d raided ships since Darin joined the crew, but those attacks had been over before they began. Conall hadn’t had a chance to observe him. Darin was slim and on the short side, and Conall didn’t think he’d be able to hold his own in a sword fight. The pistols were good for one shot each, then useless until reloaded, which took too long in the heat of battle. But Darin could provide rear cover if he was a good shot.

Conall wanted to tell him to be careful, place a kiss on his lips. Instead, he watched him walk away. Conall wasn’t worried about the other men seeing them. Men sleeping together was commonplace aboard pirate ships. Polite society detested it, but a man could get away with it if he was rich or savage enough. Conall fell firmly on the savage side. No, being seen didn’t concern him. He’d cut off a man’s head if he said unpleasant things about Conall’s tastes. What did concern him was that hewantedto kiss Darin, especially in front of others. That was a warning sign. A few weeks of bedding the boy and Conall was losing his mind. Their arrangement was not to go any further.

“Pull anchor!” Darin yelled at the men, tearing Conall out of his thoughts. “Set the sails!”

Darin conducted the departure like a maestro. For someone who had sailed the seas for a year or two, he’d learned quickly. Over the past month, he’d looked over the shoulders of the first and second mate, acquiring new skills as he went. No doubt he’d climb the ranks in record time.

The Pillaging Seascut out of the bay, black sails billowing. The ship darted onto the open sea and into the path of the Dutch flute. The pirates fired a shot at the flute’s bow, sending one message: they meant business. The wind picked up, pushing both dark clouds and the merchantman their way. In a calculated maneuver,The Pillaging Seas’ path curved, aligning starboard to port with the larger ship. Saber-rattling, the pirates jeered at the sailors aboard the flute, who were unprepared. Their cannons were unloaded, and they wouldn’t be able to counter the pirates’ assault.

“Fire!” Conall roared, and cannons thundered. They tore holes into the side of the flute, and wood splintered, exploding in all directions. The flute was a taller ship than his sloop, and behind the railing, Conall dropped to the floor as debris rained ontoThe Pillaging Seas. At his command, musket fire erupted, aimed at the men on the deck of the flute. It was of utmost importance to scare them into surrender and avoid a bloody battle. Most ships gave up immediately.

But after several rounds of fire, there was no white flag.

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