Page 29 of Crossbones
“No,” I state.
“No, you won’t answer? Or no, you’ve never been with a man?” Fox clarifies.
I can see in his eyes he’s enjoying every single second of this game.
“No, I’ve never been with a man.”
Somehow my voice is normal—it’s not like I’d be embarrassed if I had. He’s studying me now, his eyes roving over my face with a curiosity that seems deeper now, like I’ve just given him some very incriminating information. His lip catches between his teeth—deliberate and slow. It takes every bit of willpower to keep my breathing even when suddenly I feel as though all the air in the room has vanished. Fox leans into me, his lips near my ear, breath coasting over my skin.
“Well, Captain—” His voice is low and slightly raspier than normal. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”
CASPIAN
Blackwell doesn’t jerk away, but carefully pulls back far enough to look at me. He’s good at hiding his emotions but when I’m this close, I can see everything—the twitch of his jaw at my boldness, the glitter of intrigue he’s trying to push away. The way he goes still—like a predator who smells blood in the water and isn’t sure if it’s his yet. I can practically hear his brain processing, turning over the question in his mind.
Why did I ask him that? Did his question impact the one I asked? I see the depth to him that fascinates me. I know the only reason he hasn’t killed me yet has nothing to do with the ransom money. That’s just the excuse he’s hiding behind. A vendetta like his, someone who was wronged so terribly by my family, wouldn’t let someone like me live—even only on a suspicion.
No, he hasn’t killed me yet because he doesn’t know what to make of me, and he isn’t a man who meets something he doesn’t understand very often. The funny part is, I just wanted to get a rise out of him—or at least that’s what I tell myself, that I wanted a fight—and not that I’m finding myself more than just intrigued by him.
But he’s not angrily protesting, nor does he seem embarrassed, which is so much better than a fight. A slow grin slides across my features but before I can say more the door bangs open.
Blackwell steps back like we were doing something we shouldn’t as Blondie walks in. The Viking doesn’t notice, or at least his scowl doesn’t give anything away as he barely spares me a glance before looking at Blackwell.
“Boat’s ready to go, Captain,” he snaps.
My smile turns into a smirk as I sit back down, deliberately making my chains shake. When he looks at me, I give him a little wave.
“Bring me back one of those pot pies fromDemerarawill you, Blondie?” I lean forward on my arms. “And maybe one of their vintage rums—the Captain here could use a little upgrade to his rum stores.”
Now they’re both scowling at me, although Blondie looks more murderous than Blackwell does. The Captain puts a hand on the quartermaster’s shoulder, fixes me with a look I can’t quite read and without another word, they leave. I wait to hear a lock, but I guess Blackwell doesn’t think I’m going anywhere because I don’t hear anything.
Voices filter in from the open windows and I hear the boat row off towards shore. As soon as I stop hearing the splash of oars, I get to work. Because like hell am I sitting here waiting for them to come back.
I dig under the cushion and pull out a piece of metal. I’d grabbed it when he left me alone last. It doesn’t take me long to pick the manacles and they fall off my wrists; the sound is muffled as they drop to the cushioned bench. I breathe out a sigh as the relief is nearly instant. The chafing had gone on in the background, providing pain I could latch onto when I needed it, but it’s infinitely better to have them off. I rummage through the Captain’s things until I find a few strips of cloth and wrap them around my bleeding wrists. I grab the rum bottle and take a few deep pulls, nearly groaning in pleasure as the burn hits me in all the right places.
The book of poetry catches my eye.
I take another large gulp of rum as I flip to the page I want. I grab a quill and rip a piece of parchment from one of the maps. I scratch a few lines out before giving the whole thing a quick re-read. Satisfied, I set it on the book and taking one last sip of rum, I slip through the open window into the cold ocean bay.
JAMES
My mind wanders and my feet kick up rust colored dust as I walk down the streets of Carmine. The town gets its name from the massive red rock that sits like a miniature island at the mouth of the bay. The minerals color it red and as the ocean crashes against it, the color bleeds into the surrounding tide, tinting the water with a hint of crimson.. I think it looks like blood. And with the sands of the beaches colored black from the nearby iron deposits, it’s certainly a fearsome place to behold.
Carmine is supposed to be neutral territory, but it’s not. While it’s not quite a pirate stronghold—the proximity to De’Vero makes that impossible—the lawlessness of the city gives it a darker edge while still being a hot spot for legitimate trade. Both for the Seven Landings and pirates. De’Vero citizens and nobles will rarely admit it, but they can frequently be found reveling in the red streets whenever they’re looking for a respite from the formalities of court or their much more civilized lives.
The welcoming light of theDemeraraspills across my boots as I push open the door and step inside. I’m immediately assaulted by the smell of stale alcohol and sex. The open style courtyard has rooms on all levels looking down on the tavern portion of the establishment. I make my way through the crowd to a table in a corner and sink into a chair. It isn’t long before a woman comes over, sets a pint of ale in front of me and plops down on my lap.
“Hello, handsome,” she purrs, pushing her breasts, which are spilling out of her corset into my face. “Julliette is working at the moment but we can occupy ourselves until she’s done if you like.”
She’s beautiful, alluring and soft in all the right places. But as my hand slides around her slim waist, that’s not what’s on my mind. Hard muscles, smirking lips and dimples sure are though. Juliette is usually the one I come here to see but even the thought of her doesn’t push Fox’s words from my mind. I pick up the ale and take a drink, but it’s not enough.
“Fetch me some rum, love.”
She inclines her head and slides off my lap. I’m still mulling over Fox’s words when I see Harrison approaching. He falls into the chair opposite me.
“It’s done. It’ll be at least a day before a messenger makes it back.”
The woman returns at that moment with two glasses and a bottle of rum. Harrison eyes her with interest and she giggles as he pulls her down on his lap. I take a moment to study Harrison discreetly. He’s a good looking man, rugged and vicious with that Scandinavian heritage. But I don’t get any of the feelings I get looking at him like I do when I’m around Fox. I focus on the rum and down several shots while they’re whispering and flirting with each other.
