Nox worked to swallow and take in a breath. His scent, his warmth, his dangerous and threatening words all fired something in her. And it wasn’t fear. Her heart pounded, but, again, she wasn’t yet afraid. There was no cold dread settling on her. No want to scream or flee. When she felt his fingers brush along her jaw it wasn’t terror making her stomach clench.
“I haven’t need of teeth,” he whispered as his thumb brushed over her lips. “But, I’m sure this mouth will bring many… various delights.” He smoothed his hand down under her chin, his fingers easily spanning the circumference of her throat. He might have hesitated to prove it was within his ability to simply strangle her with one hand. Still Nox felt no fear. In fact she’d liken the sensations coursing through her to curiosity. More than what this man planned for her, what might he do to her. She could lie to others about her curiosity about what transpired between men and women, but not to herself.
“Let me go,” she tried. “I’ve nothing you could need.”
“Maybe not need, but certainly something I want,” he whispered erasing all hope she might be here for any other reason than to be used to slack his lust. All she hoped for now was he’d be quick and she could be gone. Though what she’d to go back to she couldn’t say.
“What could I have that you want?” Other than her body. If he’d simply get to it, she was brought on board in the dark if she got off in the dark as well she might save some of her reputation.
“Pleasure. Please me… Nox, and I’ll return the favors.” Those words sent a hard thud to her very core. “Displease me,” he said and like he was some incarnation of Neptune a terrifyingly bright flash of lightning lit the cabin. In that brief moment his features were visible. The hand at her throat quickly went to the back of her neck. Though she strained against it, he pulled her closer as he leaned down.
His lips met hers as a second flash lit the cabin, the sky and perhaps the whole damn, miserable world. Only it wasn’t the thunder causing Nox to shake. It was the incredible heat swamping her as his lips continued to move over hers. Adding pressure she couldn’t resist, she opened her mouth to protest only to feel his mouth open as well and his tongue sweep inside. His taste, like his scent, was utterly delightful.
She dreamed a million times what it might be like to kiss a man, to know what it was that made women groan when they did. Her imagination never came close. Not until she tried to reach for him did the spell, dream, madness leave her. The clanking of chains reminding her she was his prisoner, nothing more than chattel, pressed into service without any consent from her. It was then fear found her. Not because she now doubted what she believed about herself, about the kind of woman she was, but because she felt the warmth leave him.
As he pulled away he was suddenly very cold. The spicy scent surrounding him no longer made her hungry with some unknown appetite, but stuck in her throat like a bite to large and not properly chewed. It was no longer a capable strength she felt in his touch but the hard, rough scraping of calluses.
One more intense flash from the stormy skies and Nox saw what she’d missed the first time when all she’d noticed was the fine, almost noble, chiseled features of his cheeks and jawline. When she’d been struck stupid by the slight bent in his nose and the fullness of his lips. No this time she didn’t miss the jagged scar marring his face from his brow across his eye to his cheek. Again in complete darkness, she couldn’t see if his eye was missing.
She watched him pull away, leave the bed and again blend into the shadows of the room. The pounding of rain on the deck above the only sound she could hear over the blood rushing in her ears. “Please,” she called out when he stepped back further into the darkness. “Why am I here?”
He hadn’t just raped her. Surely if that was the only reason she was given to him, he’d have taken this opportunity to have at her. She wanted to know. Now, because only a few moments ago she was prepared to be disgraced, abused and tossed aside like trash. But all he’d done was … kiss her. Kiss her like she’d not known she could be.
“You’re here because I won you and have a purpose for you,” he said and she swung her eyes towards the door. “In time, Nox. In time you’ll know it. And you’ll serve it.”
“And then what? You… strand me on some deserted island? Throw me overboard to sharks?”
His laughter rippled around her, making the fear ebb back. “I think you’ve heard too many seafarers’ tales,” he said as the squeak of the hinges said he’d opened the door. “Sleep.” The soft click of the lock was all that followed.
Sleep? How was she supposed to do that? Fear, confusion and something else swirled inside her so hard it threatened to drag her down. What just happened? He won her? Had he fought someone for her and she’d not been aware someone wanted her? Surely any suitor knew she was open to almost any offer. What could she possibly have to lose by accepting the first man who was willing despite her now sorrowful conditions? She’d have been able to serve a purpose as a wife, a mother, she could manage a house, even a business. But on this ship what could she possibly be good for? And in only the short duration she suspected she’d be on board. What purpose if not to only be a man’s way of slacking his lust. Was that even going to happen? Did she maybe want it to? Pressing her lips against her arm, she willed the feel of his away, only to have every sensation he’d created fill her dreams through the night.
Chapter 2
Mason Stille, captain of The Honor, flexed his knees and let the ship roll under him. The large waves kicked up by last night’s storm barely moved the heavy galleon. She’d easily withstand typhoons, had withstood them. She wasn’t a ship that’d let her captain or her crew be disappointed. Dropping his head he started down at the deck knowing right below his feet was another he hoped wouldn’t disappoint.
Looking back up at the rising sun he shook his head. He did like a bit of spirit in his women. He might have expected curses and such for being brought, unwilling onboard and chained to a wall. It pained him to think she was simply resigned to whatever fate was to be hers. Certainly she wavered between boldness and uncertainty. He’d not made his intent clear yet, that could’ve contributed to any passiveness she’d shown. She didn’t yet know with whom she’d now deal with, but he could almost be certain she knew how she’d be dealt with while on board. Perhaps once clarity was given he’d better learn her true nature. And he’d have nearly six months to learn which parts of her nature he liked and which he didn’t. Because for now, he knew very little about her at all.
Her name was given as Jane, when Hendricks handed her over. Hendricks claimed she was no slave, only a servant. Hopefully, one with a habit of obedience. That quality would certainly serve him better than her abilities in his bed, as the latter was simply the benefit of being captain and having her onboard. Though the way she responded to his touch gave him pause. She’d not acted like a typical woman used to trading her body for pleasure, and yet once she relented he didn’t have to force a thing.
How she served the family he wasn’t sure, and it didn’t matter as how she served him was all he cared about. If a man had to resort to gambling away servants, the family was likely lost. Which was why he was hopeful Jane would be amenable to his plans. She’d nothing at all to lose. That she was placed in his hands at least assure her, if she played her part well, she’d not need to return to servitude.
Still to be used as a wager in a game of cards. He folded his arms across his chest to resist the urge to drive his fist into Mizzenmast. Only because when asked, Hendricks replied the woman he wagered was pretty enough and spirited, did Mason decide to get in on the game. He hadn’t even needed to cheat. He left the table as Hendricks sputtered he wanted a chance to win her back. Robert it seemed was surprised he’d lost. He’d actually chased him down outside the tavern and offered his horse instead. Perhaps the girl was a bit more than the common servant. Better perhaps she landed with him than any other who might have stood the man’s wager. She’d less to lose in Mason’s compan
y. He felt his lips curl up a bit. Maybe she did have a few things to lose, but given how she’d softened so easily in his hands last night, she might not mind losing them.
He dipped his head a bit and reached with one finger to rub at the scar. Or perhaps like any other woman he wasn’t paying for the privileges he took, she would. She’d softened, but she’d gone cold instantly when the darkness receded that brief moment. What else might have caused it? He knew from years of experience women wanted him until they saw the marks. The beating nearly killed him. The scars made him an outcast as much as any brand made other men the same. But while his clothing could hide everything else, this one, on his face, was there for all to see and judge.
The sun lifted a bit more over the horizon and from the bow, he heard the bell ring out signaling the watch change. Men roused themselves around deck. Those too slow would start the day less pleasantly, as every hand was need to raise sail and put order to the ship. A ship the size of The Honor could easily take a crew of four-hundred, but that’d have included soldiers. There were no soldiers on this ship, each of the ninety-six men all pulled multiple duties and were all in their own right capable fighters. As far as most knew this was little more than a personal craft sailing about, occasionally coming to port with a little bit of cargo from unknown sources. It wouldn’t be wise to spend all this effort building his name and wealth only to have it destroyed with accusations of piracy. Even if that was what many would call it.
The commotion on deck grew louder, but it was all the regular noise of actives one expected so when the scream rose up from below, louder than any sound, the entire ship went still. A second scream, this one distinctly feminine, had Mason racing for the stairs.
Rushing through the open door of his quarters he nearly tripped over his steward and then caught himself when his foot landed in the spilt porridge and he slipped. Across the cabin, one of the crew did his best to hold Jane back from the wide open door leading to the small balcony on the aft of the ship.
“What the hell is going on?” he yelled and for a moment the combatants stilled. But then the fight was on and Jane, breaking free, went right for that door. If she intended to jump ship or something else Mason didn’t know, didn’t care. He got his arms around her waist and lifting her from the deck hauled her back inside.
She fought him though. Thrashing about like a frenzied shark, her heel kicked him in the knee and her elbow hit him near the temple. “Let me go,” she screamed as the man she’d struggled with rushed to secure the door. “Let me go.” That she didn’t think to try and use the shackles as a weapon, he was grateful. Realizing now the woman did have some fight.
“Stop it Jane,” he ordered swinging her back towards the bed. She gave him no heed. “Nox,” he ground out trying to get her into a position to more easily control her. Every time he’d get her close to the bed she got her feet on the frame and push off. Why she was free from the bulkhead? He could guess, one of the two men let her lose to eat.
Setting her down, he let her find her footing and then shoved her hard from behind. The push sent her forward, face down across the bed and he was over her before she got up. A snap of his fingers and a pointed finger had Sailor Picket rushing to the far wall. His hand wavering ready to stanch whatever weapon or implement the captain could want.
“That one,” Mason said when the man’s hand passed over the short, stiff crop. It wasn’t easy holding Jane with only one hand while he waited for the crop to be set in the other. He ended up tossing his leg over both of hers which created a frame for the target.
He brought the crop down with slightly more than a snap of the wrist. Jane’s entire body recoiled and her scream could’ve roused Davy Jones from the deep. It didn’t, however, snuff her fight. He landed a second stroke, again she screamed. Mason heard it though. The lack of anger in the sound. Once more he let the thin rod connect with her ass. This time nothing more than a loud cry, followed by choked sobs.
“Now.” Mason lifted his leg and taking hold of her arm pulled her back to a kneeling position. She gasped for breath and tears streamed down her face, but the courtesies he given last night weren’t returned this morning, so she’d get no more from him. “I’ll have no more such mutiny from you.” He let her go and got off the bed. Turning to face her as she bent forward so her head rested on the matrices, he hit the bulkhead with the crop. “Hands,” he commanded. She shook her head and cried louder. “Hands, Nox. Put your hands back up here.” Again she shook her head, the movement sent her long, golden brown tresses spilling to the floor. Pulling his arm back he took careful aim as her placement on the bed wasn’t giving him an ideal target. He landed the crop one more time in the fullest spot he found. Jane arched up and cried out. He caught her eyes then, and the misery they held swamped him. “Hands, now,” he said and again slapped the crop against the bulkhead.
He saw the moment she surrendered, all light left her eyes and her skin paled to a sickening white. Turning she shifted forward and keeping them folded, as if in prayer, set her hands on the headboard. Lifting the chain, Mason slipped the single link back through the lock and then closed it. The click of it setting in place, soft, was all it took to set Jane to wailing. Body wracking sobs shook and choked her.
The angle she rested making it hard for her to balance, each time she’d slip to her side the length of the chain jerked her back and renewed her cries.
Mason tossed the crop back at the man who’d handed it to him and stepped up on the bed. “Get that cleaned up and get out,” he ordered and the man made quick work of clearing the dishes and food from the floor before rushing out. Mason, meanwhile, placed himself directly behind Jane on the bed and setting his hands at her waist, lifted her enough he could move her forward, closer to the headboard. She’d have the same slack as before and could turn and sit. But she didn’t. She remained kneeling. The sobs quieting as she rested her forehead on her folded hands. Her hair a tangled mess, obscured her face.
Kneeling behind her, Mason slid his hand under that mess and finding her chin took hold. He forced her head back until the crown rested against his chest and used his other to sweep the strands from her face. She kept her eyes closed to him, though tears seeped out under her lashes and rolled down her cheek. Letting go her chin he used both hands to smooth back her hair and then brushed away some of the wetness glimmering on her skin. Taking a tight hold on the hair with his fist, “Look at me Jane,” he said and when she’d have lifted her head he jerked her back. The soft gasp passing her lips told him he’d not hurt her with the move, only surprised her. “Look at me,” he commanded, and watched as she slowly lifted her lids. He found himself staring down into the most beautiful azure blue pools he’d ever looked into. He’d not seen the beauty she was, as she’d been delivered to him in the dark. He wondered now if perhaps she wasn’t so much a servant as a child born on the wrong side of the sheets. Her aristocratic looks couldn’t be denied. And those eyes, he could imagine what fire they’d hold. Only hers were lifeless. Nothing shined from them. No joy, or mischief and certainly no love. Disappointment rose up. What the hell did he expect?
He continued looking down into her eyes until he saw them start to slip closed. “No,” he said remembering he needed to make sure she understood perfectly the way things were. Again her eyes opened and this time there was a bit of heat in them. He slipped his free hand around her body, the weight of her breasts resting on his arm, and pulled her back more. Then he bent his head and spoke softly into her ear. “You’ll not be allowed to do things which might cause harm, either to yourself, members of this crew or me.” His thumb brushed up the side of her breast and she jerked but then settled back as he brushed over again.
“Let me go,” she breathed out as he started using more than his thumb to stroke her.
“Do you understand me?” he asked ignoring her plea and boldly dragging his palm across her chest, down her side and around to her ass. “Do you understand what I’ll do if you’re reckless, if you mutin
y against me?”
Her loud gasp when he set his hand against her ass wasn’t quite pained, in fact her movement pressed into the touch not away from it. “I don’t want to be here,” she said tugging so he might let go of her hair and she could drop her head. He did, using that hand to again stroke and cup her breasts while the one at her ass stayed still. It took a moment but a moan slipped from her lips.
“Not yet, you don’t,” he said setting his foot on the floor before standing. He saw her body sag, hoping it was with disappointment, he added. “Not yet, but soon.”
Chapter 3
Nox gritted her teeth and shifted again. She didn’t know what hurt more her stomach from hunger or her ass from where the captain laid that crop on her. Either way she was never more aware of how much rubbing at a pain gave comfort, if not relief. It was hardly the first time she’d known hunger. And this time it was her fault. She should’ve eaten then tried to make her escape, though exactly what escape she didn’t know. So the painful ache in her belly she claimed. The one in her ass. She vaguely recalled being spanked as a small child, and having seen other children receive such punishments she knew during the ordeal it was normal to feel like hell opened up. And damn if the throbbing and burning hadn’t lasted far too long. Again, because she couldn’t rub at it. But under that wicked pain something else throbbed and burned. Something she’d no ability to name, nothing she might relate it to for context and something that made her want to rub a place on her body where no pain existed.
She could still feel his touch, hours after he’d left. More than she felt the welts he’d also left her with. Why though when she’d felt the latter so prominently had she wanted to feel his touch again? More? There was nothing she could think of to cause these feelings, especially the odd feeling of safety she felt every time that man stepped close.
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