Page 48 of Crossbones
His eyes flash at the violence but he stays still under my arm.
“Something has you spooked, Caspian,” he says. “And I need to know what it is.”
I force myself to breathe normally. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t bullshit me.” His voice is low, gruff and dangerous.
His chest is pushing against me with every rise and fall of his breathing. I push aside the rush it gives me to be this close to him. His face is carefully blank, but I watch his eyes jump to my lips—so fast, it’s nothing more than a flicker of movement. I force myself to step back, removing my arm.
“I told you—” My fists clench at my sides. “It’s nothing.”
Blackwell’s hand whips out and wraps around my neck. In an instant, our places are reversed. Now it’s my back pushed against the wall. His fingers burnon my skin, and I’m thankful there’s still a few inches between us so he can’t feel what his violent touch is doing to me.
“I don’t like liars.” Blackwell’s fingers tighten and his eyes glitter with rage and something deeper, something very close to desire that I know he doesn’t want to acknowledge.
My lips press into a thin line and I don’t answer. At some point, I realize my hand is fisting his shirt—he must realize it too because he bares his teeth and steps away, distance pushing its way through the tension between us.
“Leave it alone, Blackwell,” I say.
The air is charged, like any spark will have it combusting. It feels violent, but there’s also a confusion and hesitation—like we both don’t know quite how to handle one another. Like there’s an unspoken question we’re still trying to figure out the answer to.
“Captain.” A crew member appears at the end of the hall.
Blackwell holds my gaze for a moment longer before, with a huff of frustration, he turns and leaves. Once he’s out of sight, I sink back against the wall. I know going ashore in Ironhold is foolish. I know it, and yet I can’t bring myself to sit here on the ship. Like a coward. Like someone who’s still being held back by a traumatic past. I can’t do that. Because the minute I dwell in the memories, the minute I let them resurface, is the moment the monster who put them there reclaims power over me. Fuck that. And fuck him.
Running my hands over my face I take a deep breath and regain my composure. Man, I need a drink and a fuck—something to take my mind off everything, and alleviate whatever fucked up sexual tension is bubbling up between Blackwell and me. Not that I’m complaining but damn, it’s definitely making me crave something he doesn't seem like he wants to give.
In fact, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of holding up in a brothel somewhere. That should be safe enough. And I know just the place.
JAMES
Caspian’s normal debonair energy is gone as we anchor in the bay of Ironhold. Over the last few days, I would catch him and Van speaking in low tones in dark corners—their conversations progressively turning more and more urgent. It was concerning. That day in my cabin, Caspian had gone somewhere else for a moment—somewhere dark, and as I stand next to him now, he looks in danger of it happening again.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye—he’s strained, like he could snap from a touch. His face is guarded, jaw tense, fists gripping the rail so hard I can see the bones of his knuckles. There’s no trace of his usual smirk, or amused glimmer in his eyes that usually accompanies how he looks out at the world.
I’m slightly surprised when he joins me in the boat going to shore, having been convinced for the last few days he’d stay aboard. From the unhappy look on Van’s face as he settles next to him and the stubborn set of Caspian’s shoulders, I know they’d most likely argued about just that. I’m still annoyed that he won't tell me what’s going on. But the altercation in the hallway was irritating for other reasons too. Mostly because I felt like I was pushing to know details not as his Captain, but as someone who cared on a different level. And fuck if I know what the hell that means.
The boat scrapes sand and the sounds and smells of Ironhold’s quay assault my senses. Ironhold is a city of grey, and gets its name from the iron deposits in the area. Technically, it’s a territory of Ralta, akingdom in Seven Landings. Because of this, it boasts a prominent fort that sits on top of a small rise overlooking the bay, giving the entire city an ominous feel like we’re being watched. The city doesn’t necessarily like pirates, but I have certain connections that allow me to move freely through these streets. Connections that allow my reputation to discourage any trouble. Which is why I’m frustrated that I don’t know what’s going on with the prince.
I grab Caspian’s arm as he goes to walk off—an action I regret as soon as my hand comes into contact with his bare skin. I fight through the reaction as he turns to me.
“You good?” I ask.
Caspian gives me one of his smirks but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just peachy, Captain.”
I step closer, my irritation tightening my grip. “Last chance to tell me the truth.”
“Everything is fine,” he yanks his arm free. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go drown myself in rum.”
He’s lying.He’s blatantly doing it too which pisses me off. I watch him walk up the beach, Van right on his heels. I debate following him; it’s not like I have anything pressing to do. Harrison and Lan are handling the resupply. The others are all going to various destinations to get drunk, and fuck. Before I really know what I’ve decided, my feet take me up the beach following behind Caspian before he gets lost in the crowd. I tell myself it’s because if something happens to him, our entire voyage is null and void. But I’m not sure that’s entirely why.
Their path takes them deeper into the city, away from the docks, before they stop in a quiet lane in front of an establishment I know well, calledGreystone.They have a heated discussion in the street. It takes a few minutes but Caspian eventually wins and Van storms off while Caspian enters the building. I follow a few minutes later, climbing the steps of the nondescript building with no signage or markings.Greystoneis one of the more upscale brothels in town. They pride themselves on being discreet, and hold their secrets close. Unlike some of the other similar establishments who sell information as freely as they sell sex, this is a place I frequent when I want to keep my name out of everyone’s mouths.
I don’t see him when I walk in. I wave away the attention, moving through the dimly lit space in search of him. I’m just about to head back to the bar and admit I’ve lost him when I pass a doorway and happen to glance in.
I freeze. Caspian has a man on his knees, his cock in the man’s mouth. Hishands thread through the dark locks, gripping tightly. Caspian’s head is thrown back against the wall, but his face looks anything but lost to pleasure and when he looks back down at the man, frustration skates across his features. I know I should turn around before he sees me but I can’t get my feet to move.
Caspian senses he’s being watched and looks towards the doorway. Our eyes clash, awareness floods my body like liquid fire. I can’t breathe. I’m trying to figure out why I have equal parts need and fury burning me from the inside out. Caspian’s eyes darken into a challenge, provocative, as his eyes skim down my body. He gives me a wicked grin as he increases the pace. The difference now is a flicker of pleasure glazes his eyes. I don’t know if it’s from me watching or if the man at his feet is finally getting to him. With a visceral urge that catches me off guard, I hope it’s because of me.
