by Dawn Dagger
The voices of the men ebbed into her ears like the waves, and she could pick out pieces of conversations as she stared into her soup.
“Piece of meat--”
“I hear they call ‘em pillicks there…”
“Where we headed?”
“Des, latchka efon.”
“Avondella, he said, I think.”
“We oughta go see the circus rats in Keshnitte.”
“You’re a circus rat!”
“Ala tel unsa catcha ekpin allo.”
Levanine tensed as she heard drifting bits of Rachar and Haror, the languages of two far-away countries. The Haror she could only identify by its distinctive sounds, but the Rachar she understood. She looked up to the stranger, to see if he had heard what the men had said in veiled words.
The stranger snarled something under his breath, standing suddenly and causing Levanine to flinch. He slid around the table and grabbed her arm tightly, lifting her to her feet. She shrunk, confused.
Was he angry that she understood what the men were saying? Had she indeed insulted him by not eating, and he was going to punish her for it? Her mind raced.
Her breath staccatoed out as the stranger pressed his lips close to her neck. They were warm and dry. His breath rolled down her neck and she shivered. His hand snaked around her waist and the other kept a tight hold on her arm.
He was going to have sex with her.
“Just keep walking.” He whispered, tickling the nape of her neck and send a wave of gooseflesh along her back. The men at the tables turned to watch them as they passed through the dining hall. The one with the brown ponytail gave her a panicked look. She stumbled along beside the man, her steps faulting as her head grew dizzy with anxiousness.
They climbed the stairs back onto the deck washed in starlight, and the cold hit her sharply, clearing her head. If she kicked the back of his leg… No. No. She wasn’t good at swimming. There were no other vessels on board. It would be suicide.
He pulled away from her and opened the door to the cabin, then pulled her in after him. He slammed the door shut and grumbled crossly, stalking towards the wardrobe. With careful, precise movements he untied the cord around his throat and pulled off his cloak, hanging it on the inside of the wardrobe door, his back turned to her.
Levanine trembled as she waited for instructions.
“Take off the cloak and get into bed.” He commanded, bending to take off his boots.
Levanine tried to suppress her whine of distress as she obeyed. She unfastened the pin at her own throat and pulled off her cloak. She nervously folded it to give her hands something to do, then laid both it and the pin on the floor beside the bed.
Her teeth chattered as she climbed into the soft bed. She sat down and waited.
The stranger turned toward her and for a moment her fear was replaced with surprise. While he had worn his cowl, Levanine had created a face in her head to replace the idea of a gaping hole. She had imagined the man with a dark, curly beard and large eyebrows and a pock marked face that was tan and angry.
She was startlingly wrong.
The man looked like he was on the early end of twenty, and had fared well for those twenty-some years. His jaw was strong and his eyes were hard set: determined, and unwavering. His hair came down in silky curls the color of a raven, brushing the tops of his broad shoulders. He had a well defined chest, if he was pudgy at the edges, showing he had eaten well. His eyes were blazing blue, framed by long, dark lashes, and his nose was perfectly set.
The scar she had seen in the dining room was one that reached from his forehead and cut through his eyebrow down to his cheekbone.
He was stunning.
Levanine blinked, composing herself. Who on Kethaltar had bought her? He was too lovely to be a pirate. Perhaps he was a prince masquerading as the captain of The Red Running Royalty in an attempt to avoid trouble. She had heard tales of such strange occurrences.
“Wh-who are you?” She whispered.
“I am Captain Guy.”
Levanine choked. So, he was handsome. He surely wasn’t charming, but if the handsome part was true, that must mean everything along those lines were true...
Including the fact that he enjoyed his women.
Captain Guy quickly untied the cord in his white tunic and loosened it, slipping it off his shoulders. He tossed it into the bottom of the wardrobe, where various tricorne hats and cloaks hung. She had never seen such head ornaments. His chest and arms were well defined and only slightly pock marked. A roughly-cut, green gem hung on the end of a leather cord around his neck. He did not take it off.
Levanine might have appreciated his looks had she not been so frightened. He undid the cord of his pants and let them fall around his ankles. She looked away, embarrassed. The Captain crawled onto the bed, one knee up first, followed by the other, coming toward her, looming over her.
Levanine wanted to cry out, but her throat was too constricted from silent sobs to make any noise. Could she beg? No, it would give him more pleasure. She knew how men worked. She had heard it. Her blood rushed in her ears and sweat rolled down her spine, between her shoulder blades as she pressed her back against the wall. She bit her tongue until she tasted metal.
No, she would not give him this pleasure. She would be silent, and brave. She could cry to the three moons later. She could leap into the sea. She would do anything but give into the urge to wail.
But the Captain had no appearance of being aroused, his eyes instead flashing with irritation.
“Calm down, dammit!” He barked, causing her to jump. She nearly burst into tears. “Calm….” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his teeth. His voice was more even this time speaking, “calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. I didn’t buy you as an Indulgence either. Stop being so frightened of me; it’s obnoxious. I haven’t hurt you yet.”
She swallowed the words and sobs bubbling in her throat. He was not wrong. He hadn’t hurt her… yet. So many questions crowded her mind she thought her head might explode, so she instead blurted, “why did you bring me here then?”
“My sailors, I heard what they were saying about you. I’m not foolish, you know.” He laid down, pulling the silky covers over his defined body. “I had to ‘make claim’ before they did something stupid. They’re bastards, and although the rules are clear about women, they don’t listen.”
Levanine was concerned that the men did not listen to their own captain. Were they going to try and overthrow him? He seemed unconcerned as he spoke, so she tried not to think about a mutiny.
“They’ll dominate you unless you appear to be off limits to them. This is only to look like I’ve slept with you. Lie down and come close. They’re spying idiots. Unfortunately, Bandolinda has no good sailors, and my crew became a rowdy mess of drunks. There’s three I care about, the rest can be devoured by sharks. I’ll deal with them in the morning.”
Levanine slowly lowered herself down onto the bed and under the covers. The Captain snaked his arm around her body and pulled her closer, but not until they were touching.
There was a hand’s breadth in between them.
“I don’t like this anymore than you do,” he grumbled.
Levanine closed her eyes tightly and forced her lungs to obey her will, breathing slowly and deliberately. He isn’t going to harm me.
Levanine slowly began to relax. Captain Guy’s body radiated warmth and the bed was soft. His rough breathing reminded her of sleeping in shacks full of other servants, or of the strong breath of the knights that had taken shelter in the healer’s shack. It was relaxing.
Levanine had never slept in the same bed as a man before. It was strange, but warm and felt oddly secure. Maybe it was because his body felt like a wall, so she had no danger of rolling off of the bed. She was not sure.
Levanine closed her eyes, slowly calming her still-churning stomach. She was still tired, though she had slept the entire day. Maybe
she was sick. She seemed to always feel tired.
She realized that having eaten for the first time in a long while would make her sleepy, like the farmer men who worked in the fields all day. They came in to warm meals and wine and fell asleep soon afterwards.
“What is your name?” Captain Guy asked quietly, breaking into her mulling thoughts.
“Levanine,” she responded quietly.
There was no response. He must have been dreaming. That or her name did not matter to him. She cared not much either way.
Every time Levanine closed her eyes to drift into sleep, the waves crashed against the ship and she creaked, or the Captain shifted with a grunt, or the men outside of the cabin would shout, startling her awake. Eventually she was awake enough to just lay tersely in bed.
She stared past the soft outline of her master and at the distorted green-silver light that poured in from the window. It rippled from the motion of the sea, and the moonlight was stained by the glass.
It was beautiful.
The Captain shifted again, and Levanine’s quiet thoughts turned to him. He was the most notorious, gossiped about pirate on all of the seas of Kethaltar. From Harothway to Ronartion, all knew of him.
He was rich and powerful and envied. And yet, he had purchased her. He had… saved her, if she might dare believe that.
He could do anything in the world with her, yet he had no plans.
No, no, she was a hopeful fool. He was going to hurt her. He was going to kill her...
She couldn’t help but wonder what was to become of her. Maybe she would die. Maybe she would not…
She realized it didn’t matter much to her. She could be a scullery maid or only swab the deck until her fingers fell off, but as long as she avoided the grisled sailors, she might be content. If the Captain would not touch her…
She was on the ocean. On the wide open sea. Salt-tinged air and crystal blue, all around. On the fastest and most magnificent ship on the seas, for Elsomora’s sake!
She avoided thinking about what might happen to them and the aforementioned ship if it were to be captured. Or shot down. Or if the men created a mutiny, as she feared.
Footsteps pounded beyond the door and she tensed. Rowdy yelling sounded outside of the cabin, and Levanine was worried for a minute that it was a mutiny.
The Captain’s arm tightened around her waist and pulled her close. She tensed and pushed back against his chest in silent resistance, surprised by his sudden movement. She thought he had been sleeping.
A fist banged on the wall outside the cabin, all the way to the door, but the door did not open. The Captain’s hold tightened and she felt as if he were suffocating her. Glass shattered somewhere on the deck.
The Captain’s warm lips brushed her neck and up onto her cheek. Her skin burned in a trail that followed. “How would you feel if I did ask you to be my Indulgence?” His whispered, his voice laced with charm.
Levanine clenched her jaw for a moment, gaining her fragile composure and trying not to become frightened. “Y-your wish is my command, sir.” Her voice was hoarse.
“I asked your opinion.” His hand slid across her waist and to the small of her back, his hold tender and sensual, enough so to make her shiver.
“I w-wouldn’t like it, sire.” Her lungs were too tight to bring in any more air.
The footsteps faded and the Captain cocked his head, tickling her face with his curls. She sneezed quietly into his shoulder. They were suspended in the close, sensual hold for far too long.
Abruptly the Captain untangled himself from her and rolled out of the bed. Levanine gasped as if she was surfacing water. As she panted softly, she heard real water splashing.
Levanine sat up and could see the outline of Captain Guy standing beside the wardrobe. He was splashing in the water basin that sat upon a small table.
“You stink,” he muttered, the previous hardness and coldness back. All of the flirtatious charm was gone completely, as if it had never been there. The change was sudden and jarring.
Levanine knew she stank. She hadn’t bathed in a while. Captain Guy strode back over and held out a wet cloth to her. “Here,” He grunted.
She snatched up the cloth and began to wipe off her dirt covered face and neck. The sweet air sucked to her freshly cleaned skin and she suddenly realized how dirty the rest of her felt. Feeling clean, if only on her face and neck and arms, felt so wonderfully delicious.
“Tomorrow you may take a bath as soon as you wake up.” He snatched the rag from her and tossed it back in the wash basin as she meekly held it out. “I’ll have hot water prepared for you. ”
“Aye.”
The Captain crawled back into the bed and she avoided him. “They all moved to the belowdecks. They aren’t coming back up, drunk off their asses. They think I don’t know that they aren’t watching the ship. I’ll whip them back into shape in the next few days…” the second part seemed to be a threat, despite the musing. He broadly gestured to the cabin. “You can sleep wherever you want.”
Levanine crawled off of the end of the bed and curled up on the floor, feeling more comfortable on a hard surface. She pulled her cloak tight over her body and let herself drift into a half sleep that cradled her in dark arms.
Chapter 3
Captain Guy snarled as he paced across the deck, ready to strangle one of the men with his bare hands. This close to Dreanis and not even Quinn had decided to keep a lookout? He didn’t think of that, because that was Quinn’s job.
He hated his men with such a boiling anger.
He had the thought to kill them in their sleep and dump their fat bodies into the oceans for the sharks. Hell, shark teeth were worth more than these men!
These damned pirates needed their asses whipped into shape sooner than reaching Avondella. He couldn’t risk being lenient and uncaring any longer. He had become relaxed. Lazy.
He had been hoping he could dump the crew off on some island and find other, functional sailors. Now he could not afford to stop, as the lazy dogs had cost his ship 40 pounds of opium and more than one barrel of Bandolinda wine.
How had they not heard the Donta speed-ship sailors steal their cargo and paint Donta symbols all over his precious Royalty, he could not fathom. Kasha was busy scrubbing the said symbols off of the deck, the blue paste they had used splattered up to his dark elbows.
The Dontians were a group of tribal people who found it amusing to sail from their small island and steal drugs and alcohol from unsuspecting ships. To them, it was a joke, not a matter of life and death, or honor and money.
As he yanked the cabin door open, threatening to rip it off its hinges while it groaned in protest, he realized that he could fix multiple problems at once. He could establish his dominance over the maid and her presence on the Royalty while he bled the sailors dry.
“Levanine!” He barked, looking around for her in the cabin. Where in Ursona was she? If the maid had left the cabin like a fool, he would throw her overboard. “Levanine!” He shouted again, yanking open the door to the bathing room, not expecting her to be hiding within.
The room was steamy and the maid lay in the stone bath, her skin pink from the fresh scrubbing, and bare as a babe, eyes closed and a look of peace on her face.
He let out a strangled yelp of surprise at the sight of her nakedness.
Levanine’s eyes flew open and she screamed, flailing in the water before covering herself with her arms. Guy backpedaled, only to run hard into the wall. He felt his face burning as he spun out of the room, pulling the door shut hard behind him.
His heart was racing and he felt his face begin to cool slowly. He stood against the wall for a long moment, breathing slowly. He hated every human being that existed on the pathetic planet of Kethaltar. Guy snatched his tricorne hat and placed it decidedly on his head.
He needed to relieve his frustration.
Guy marched across the deck, barking orders to the milling, useless thu
gs. They lazily rose their heads to watch him for a moment, then slowly pushed themselves off of the crates and masts they were leaning against. They sauntered to where they ought to be, as commanded.
The complete lack of respect, of Creator driven fear made him quake. He could not believe he had let his ship become such a sinkhole. All that damn wine…
His boots clicked against the deck and up to the only person on the ship worth any lick of forgiveness. “Quinn!”
The older man turned from staring into the grimy water and looked at him. His stormy, grey eyes lit up and he rose a bushy, red brow that matched both his beard and long, braided hair. “Yes, Cap’n?”
“Now that we’ve been robbed, did you ask Palae what our inventory status is?”
Quinn nodded to the hunch-backed man with large spectacles that was scribbling furiously into a tablet of paper. “Aye. We still have all but one barrel of wine, six crates of opium. We have enough supplies for one, maybe two, quick stops on the way to Avondella.”
“Mm.” Not the worst news, but certainly not great. “We are en route straight to Avondella, correct?”
“We’re aimed to stop halfway there, Cap’n.”
“No, no stopping,” he said irritably. “I want you to head straight for Avondella, get the Royalty turned.”
Quinn opened his mouth to argue, but closed it and let out a small breath. He nodded. “Aye, Cap’n. Silva, Rakifi!” He called, turning slightly. The two men began to finish their activities and walk toward them.
“Very good.” Guy clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed. “It’s time to get these weasels into shape, don’t you agree?” Quinn nodded, looking less annoyed. “Get your flogging whip, hm? I want these dogs so bloody they have nightmares of crossing me.”
“Aye, Captain.” Quinn saluted.
“Meanwhile, I’m going to go gather my… wench.” He hated saying that word. It was a disgusting word, but it was the most appropriate one, on this ship. “I am going to need a soft face to kiss as I pound their heads into the deck boards.”
