Page 12 of Captive of the Pirate King
“As death.” He lifts one foot from the bath and braces it on the edge of the tub. He points to a tattoo banding his ankle, a complex interwoven braid. “It’s unbreakable. Should a sorcerer try to interfere with the tattoo, its bearer would die. Without this magic, we’d have to be a lot more careful about taking on sailors from the ships we intercept.”
“Intercept is a gentle word for what you do,” I say.
He tilts his head. “You’re a judgmental one, aren’t you, Nick?” There’s a crispness to the way he says my name, a glittering bite to the word. I wonder how my real name would sound in his mouth. “Like it or not, this tattoo allows me—us—to spare lives.”
“But you kill people every time you attack a ship,” I protest.
“We kill those who resist, and spare those who surrender.”
“And what of the women?” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “You abandon them to die.”
“You’re thinking of your sister,” he says. “The woman you sent away before we boarded.”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
“We give the women a fighting chance to survive,” says Locke. “Aboard a ship like this, there is no way to protect their virtue. Long voyages do strange things to the best of men, and unfortunately there are bad men in every crew. Taking female survivors on board would only end in tragedy. The Pirate King won’t subject any woman to the fate of having her will and her body stolen from her. Better that she takes her chance with the Mother Ocean.”
“So you’re saying the women are left to die so they won’t be raped?” My voice nearly shrills, and I have to remember to coarsen and deepen it. “Couldn’t the Pirate King justorderhis captains and their men not to touch women?”
“Not every captain would enforce such an edict, or follow it himself. They are pirates, after all, with a very loose moral code if they possess any at all.” Locke takes a small bucket, scoops some water, and pours it over his head. My eyes follow the gleaming river of liquid as it flows along his body. He’s not even slightly aroused now, and that fact comforts me, given the topic of our conversation.
I’ve seen naked men before. But it has always been a quick glimpse before we rushed into the act. I’ve never sat and had a conversation with a naked man—certainly not with one so powerfully built. Locke radiates a raw virility that I can scarcely handle.
He shakes water out of his dark hair, and my eyes fix on that white streak near his temple. Was he born with it, or did it result from some traumatic experience?
“It’s not a perfect system.” He steps out of the tub, seizes a towel from the table, and begins to dry himself. Gritting my teeth, I face toward the oven again. “Women aren’t the only ones at risk. Boys like yourself, softer men, anyone weak—they’re all in danger out here on the lawless seas.”
I pull my knees close to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “But you—you don’t—wouldn’t—”
Locke crouches beside me, startling me with his bulk and nearness. His lower half is wrapped in the towel, and his pale eyes blaze into mine.
“I would never participate in such a thing, or allow it to happen in my presence,” he whispers. “I would banish the idea from existence if I could.” His teeth pinch his lower lip for a second before he continues. “When you’ve endured a terrible thing, you become more devoted to ensuring that it happens to no one else. You are safe here.”
He’s up again and moving away from me the next second. A hideous chill rolls over my body.When you’ve endured a terrible thing—
Did someone dothatto him? He’s so tall and strong—I can’t imagine anyone being able to overpower him. Maybe it happened when he was younger, more vulnerable.
I suppose the Pirate King’s edict is, in some twisted way, intended to protect women. It’s a flawed practice, but then again, the whole world is flawed. I’ve heard plenty of stories at court that made my spine shiver and my blood boil. Injustice and cruelty crawls through the cracks of the world, poisoning us all.
“You should bathe,” Locke says abruptly. “Cook will be up soon to fix the breakfast, and he’ll be suspicious if you’re not in your hammock. You can use this water. It’s still warm.”
I don’t like the thought of reusing Locke’s bathwater, but I don’t have time to heat any for myself. “And you’ll keep watch for me?”
“I will. I’ll sit right there so no one can come in.” He nods to my spot against the door.
Oh no.
“You—you can’t be in the room with me,” I stammer.
“Why not? You were in here while I bathed. I promise I won’t tease you about any physical abnormalities, or gossip about them to the others.” He strips off the towel and begins pulling on fresh clothes.
Shit. I don’t have any clean clothes.
“Do you think you could get me some fresh clothes?” I ask tentatively, rising from my spot on the floor. “I only have these.”
Maybe I can bathe quickly while he goes to fetch the clothes for me.
“What am I, your servant?” He towers over me, unsmiling despite a sparkle in his eye. “Get the clothes yourself. I’ll wait here. Hurry, you don’t have much time.”
