Page 98 of Captive of the Pirate King
The dead woman’s tattered gown has been raked up to her waist, leaving her bare privates exposed, her legs spread—bruises on her thighs, the marks of fingers—
My stomach twists, curdles, and revolts. I stagger aside and vomit onto the grass.
Locke’s hand rests between my shoulder blades as I bend over, retching and sobbing.
“He doesn’t do this,” I gasp. “He hasn’t done that before—he’s—he needs help.”
But perhaps he has done it before, or something similar.
Once, shortly before his engagement and the tragedy that followed, Mordan tried to convince me to bite a girl he wanted, to sip her blood and make her submit to him. He suggested it laughingly, as if he were joking, but I saw the craving in his eyes. Of course I denied him, and he didn’t suggest it again. But the man who would suggest that—he might be capable of this horror.
“Weapons at the ready, men,” Locke says quietly.
I croak a laugh. “Weapons won’t do you any good against him.”
Locke’s hand travels to the sealed pouch at his side, the satchel containing his tattoo supplies. I can only hope they made it through the storm intact.
Wiping the traces of vomit from my mouth, I straighten. “I have to go to him now, alone.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Locke says evenly.
And I don’t want to do it. But if Mordan sucks out Locke’s insides, flattens his lungs—
My brother could murder Locke in a few seconds. And I might not be able to stop him.
“I have to go alone. If he sees anyone else with me, he’ll kill them.” My voice trembles, so I take a moment to breathe, to force steel into it—the steel of a Pirate Queen. “I began this journey by myself, and that’s how I have to end it.”
Locke pulls a frustrated grimace. “I hate this, Veronica.”
“I know, but it’s what I need to do.” I step nearer, gathering one of his bruised hands in mine. “Please, Locke. You’ve kept me safe so many times—let me protect you this once.”
“Damn it,” he says hoarsely. “I wish you weren’t right about this. Can you handle him?”
“I think so.”
He growls again, glancing around as if some alternative might appear. “We’ll follow you at a distance. Not more than half an hour behind you.”
I nod, biting my lower lip so it doesn’t tremble.
Hanschel breaks from the quiet circle of men around us and approaches me, holding out a small black bottle. Gratefully I take a swig, washing the acrid vomit from my mouth with the sting of the liquor. “Thank you, Hanschel.” I scan the faces of the men. Dolomon and Hanschel I know, along with several more from theArdent.I’m not sure what happened to Gorm and Tir—I barely saw them after their tattoo session because Locke made them serve belowdecks. Last I heard, he told them to find a new ship when we landed in Ravensbeck. I’ll be glad if I never see them again.
But the rest of these men, the ones I know and the ones I don’t—they are brave, and worthy of my respect. Pirates they are, but they’re risking everything to rid the sea of this threat. If I don’t succeed in controlling Mordan, they’ll probably lose their lives to him.
“Go with the gods, milady,” says Dolomon.
“At least take this.” Locke fumbles along his belt and draws out a knife.
Myknife. The one my brother gave me, the one I left aboard theArdent. The one I used to draw his blood when we were young.
My blood chills as I reach for it.
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A Pirate Queen wouldn’t fear a simple knife, or the memories linked to it, so I manage to keep my face calm as I accept the weapon. My family ring is on my thumb—by some miracle it wasn’t dislodged while we thrashed in the sea.
“I’ll go deal with this,” I say. “It’s what I came out here to do.”
“Kiss me first,” Locke whispers.
