Page 21 of Crossbones
“Curious for a noble to have lash marks.”
My eyes trace over the multiple scars criss crossing his back. Some had obviously been deep—someone had done this to be violent, not dole out punishment. He presses his forehead against the wall, the slump of his shoulders tense but more defeated than usual. Although not from a lack of fight, more a resigned attitude of annoyance that I’d discovered this about him and he’s now having to put up with my curiosity.
“What happened?”
His eyes stay closed. “Go away.”
“Is that what your nightmare was about?” There’s a hitch in his breathing—subtle, barely there. A vicious smirk twists my features and I shove all the other feelings away, replacing them with ones I’m familiar with.
Rage, disgust, contempt…
“Fuck you,” he chokes out.
“Poor little Fox,” I whisper. “Who haunts you when you close your eyes?”
Satisfaction tears through me as his breathing becomes harsh and ragged. Emboldened by the fact itisin fact possible to rattle him, I want to push him, provoke him until he breaks. I have my claws in his cracks and I’m ready to ravage my way down to where it’ll hurt the most. I press him harder into the wall and lean into him, my lips inches from his ear.
“Who did you fail? A lover? Your family—” He flinches. “Ah—family then. Let me guess, they trusted you and you let them burn. Is it their blood on your hands, Fox?”
There’s no warning as he lunges for me. He’s weak but his rage fuels him beyond dehydration and hunger. He’s intentional and deliberate with his movements and it’s immediately apparent he’s had formal training of some sort. Even angry, he’s not sloppy and I find myself having to actually put forth some effort into staying upright.
Fox lands two hits, while the third glances off my jaw as we careen into the bars on the other side of the cell. He shoves the chain of his manacles against my neck and presses me against the iron. His breathing is rough, the fury blinding as the black overtakes the ocean hue of his eyes. His carefully crafted control is gone, and it’s like looking into the head of a storm over the sea—thrashing with danger—roaring in pain. Pain that’s written on every line of his face.
“Were you not strong enough?” I breathe, chiseling away at every crack because I can’t fucking help myself.
His heated breaths brush against my skin. “You knownothingabout me.”
“I know you can’t keep up this facade forever,” I growl. “Iwillget answers.”
It’s my turn to headbutt him. He grunts and we fall apart. I advance on him but he recovers quickly and we collide, tripping each other up enough to crash to the ground. Fists fly but it’s less about either of us gaining the upper hand, and more about taking the rage we both have out on the other. I find myself on top as we slam into the wall of the ship. Chests heaving, we lay there—him with his chain looped around my forearm and me with my hand enclosed around his throat. The air is charged between us.
“There’s nothing for you at the end of this,” I say as I catch my breath. “You’ll be broken, reduced down to nothing but an echo of who you were—and in the end, you’ll get on your knees and beg for me to end you—just like they all do.”
At my words his body relaxes under me—I’m caught off guard at the sudden change, now conscious of every single place our bodies are touching. His complete submission cuts deep causing his anger to rapidly bleed away. Those once brutally harsh eyes are looking at me with a sadness I can somehow feel digging into my soul.
“I’m afraid you’re too late,” he growls. “You can’t break an already broken man.”
My fingers tighten around his neck but not enough to restrict his air and his eyes sharpen just enough at the pressure. But this time, when I hear his breath catch, I know it means something different. He pushes up just slightly against my hand.
“But just to be clear,” he grinds out through gritted teeth. “You won’t ever find me on my knees begging.”
I’m straddling him, nearly chest to chest, and the thought of him on his knees is too much. I shove away from him and stand up, realizing that even on his back, conceding the fight, he simmers with power—and the allure of seduction. I know without a doubt, this man, whoever he is, commands whatever room he enters—wholly and completely.
I caught him off guard earlier—a rare moment of weakness. We both know it and I can see in his eyes, it likely won’t happen again. Even beat down, shackled and caged, he holds himself likeI’mthe one who was just on his back. It’s a sobering thought and makes him one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met. It also causes my hand to burn where it had been wrapped around his neck and the press of his body against mine is not something I’m going to easily forget.
I hastily relock the cell and without a backwards glance I head back above deck, conscious of Fox’s gaze boring into my back and trying not to make itseem like I’m running. I never knew what it meant to hate someone, yet also be attracted to them—now I do and it’s fucking with me.
I can’t get it out of my head—the heat, the hate and the anger bleeding into something else.
As I slam down the hatch to the brig and take deep breaths of the clean night air topside, I have to admit the truth: I’m attracted to a man, arguably for the first time ever. The highly unfortunate part is the fact he’s still my enemy and I still have to kill him. Details that aren’t likely to change.
Harrison is perched on a barrel smoking, and Lan is at the helm when I storm up to the quarterdeck. I grip the railing beside Harrison, feeling slightly unmoored. My shoulder aches, my lip throbs—all reminders of his hands on me. My senses are filled withhim. I’d gone down there as a distraction and to get answers, but instead discovered something raw beneath the facade. I’d wanted a fight but uncovered something real instead. Unfortunately, it didn't come with answers, only more questions.
Harrison cocks an eyebrow at me as he exhales smoke.
“What happened to you?”
My response is barely more than a grunt. Harrison looks me up and down with amusement tempered by annoyance. I look down as well to find my clothing wet and filthy from rolling around the brig. From the way Harrison is now studying my face, I’m sure I have several cuts and scrapes there too.
