Page 96 of Crossbones
I enjoy the brief look of desire that crosses Blackwell’s face before he hides it. He turns with me but before he can say anything, Lan enters the center of the ring and holds up his hands.
“Men! Get your final bets in!” He looks at both Harrison and I in turn as we step into the open circle. “One weapon of choice each—first to draw blood is the winner. The floor is yours gentlemen!”
The rumble of a cheer runs through the crowd but I’ve already tuned them out. Exhilaration is rushing through my veins—alive and feral. I hold my cutlass in front of me, taking up a stance as I smirk at Harrison.
“Let’s see what you got, Blondie.”
With a snarl he rushes me. I easily block and let him rush to the side, knowing he’s testing me. He immediately comes back and we clash, steel against steel ringing out as we parry, thrust and block. We step apart and circle again. He has good form, I’ll give him that, but he’s leaving his left side open a bit too much. I wonder briefly if it’s a trap—only one way to find out.
I lunge for him, transfering my sword to my left hand and stabbing towards his weak side. The ghost of a smirk crosses his face as I take the bait. He blocks it and returns the gesture. I smile savagely back at him, amusement dancing in my eyes. His attack misses, easily blocked because I’m using my left hand. I attack, switching hands again at the last second. Fabric rips and as I step away, Harrison looks down to see a rip in his shirt running across his stomach.
“Don’t worry, I’m having fun,” I taunt. “I don’t want to end this yet.”
He rushes me viciously, his attack driving me back across the deck until I duck out of it, taking his legs out as I do. We crash to the deck together and roll, coming apart at the edge of the crowd. He doesn’t wait but comes for me and we dance across the space, a whirl of blades and footwork. Despite the chill as the sun continues to set, Harrison has sweat beading on his forehead. I can feel my own trickling down my back but this is where I feel at home—themost free—holding a blade with no thoughts crowding my mind.
We’re breathless, panting as we come together. The energy between us is volatile and thick with violence. I knee him in the ribs and punch him in the jaw, sending him staggering. The roar of the crowd cuts through my trance and I’m on him before he can get fully to his feet. He still manages to block my attack, but one quick move and his sword is spinning across the deck. A flash of fury crosses his face but I move away and point my blade at his.
“Pick it up,” I bark.
That seems to piss him off more because he grabs it and races towards me, delivering several hard blows, driving me back towards the crowd. He creates a few inches of space and before I can block, his blade whispers across my side, slicing through fabric. We step away and his eyes go to the rip.
“Not yet, mate,” I beckon him with my free hand, smirking at him.
“Fuck you, De’Vero,” Harrison snarls. “You’re just like all the rest of those pathetic nobles—spoiled—” He circles around me, goading me as he catches his breath. “Entitled—weak—”
His words fall from the air, irritating me because I know he’s trying to provoke me.
“God, you sound like my brother.” I scrunch my face up in disgust. “Unfortunately for you, he’s made me immune to petty words wrapped around sharp edges.”
We come together again—fast and vicious. A whirl of blades has the intensity escalating. We don’t stop now, this isn’t us testing each other any more. We fight back and forth across the space, searching for a weakness in the other. I push his limits—I can see it in the strain of his jaw and the realization in his eyes. He pushes mine—but I know it’s only a matter of time before he makes a mistake.
It’s nothing more than a slight opening, a small whisper of an opportunity but it’s enough. I snake my way under his guard and as I move through the attack, I slide my blade across his stomach, in the exact place I’d cut his shirt earlier. I disarm him and send him crashing to the deck. I step away, the point of my steel at his throat. Crimson seeps from the cut across his stomach and the crowd explodes.
I remove the sword from his neck, my smugness gone as I extend a hand to him.
“I’m glad I’m fighting on your side, Harrison,” I say pointedly.
He scowls at me for a beat before a look of resigned respect appears on his face and he clasps my forearm, letting me drag him to his feet. He tightens his hold and steps closer.
“I still don’t like you,” hegrowls. “But at least I know you’re not totally useless.”
I chuckle. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
His jaw tightens, but he nods once and releases my arm as we’re swarmed by the crew.
Lan rushes up and slaps Harrison on the back excitedly. “That was amazing, mate!”
“See, Van!” Flynt yells. “I told ye he’d be fine!” Flynt shakes Harrison’s hand. “You gave ‘im a right run for it though, sir—never seen him have to try so hard.” Flynt winks at me behind the large grin on his face.
Van laughs. “A fine display of swordsmanship to be sure!”
Harrison grumbles something and moves off through the crew, receiving just as much praise as if he’d won. Blackwell shakes his hand and clasps him on the shoulder, but the moment his eyes meet mine, they darken with that look again. Harrison leans closer to Blackwell and says something that causes the Captain to look at him in slight annoyance, but Harrison’s shoulders shake with a chuckle as he moves off. My men see Blackwell approaching and with some last minute pats on the back they disappear into the crowd.
Blackwell shakes his head, giving me a once-over that is searing. His hands clench into fists at his side like he’s holding back from touching me. I slide my cutlass back into my belt and give him one of my charming half-smiles.
“Think Blondie and I will be besties now?”
Blackwell huffs in amusement. “He did say at least you’re not just a pretty face.”
