“That’s rich, coming from you. You had acrownhidden in your tattoo. What’s that about?”
“It’s a very complicated and painful spell, one I never want to repeat. But it gives me proof of my authority when I need it.”
“That’s not enough explanation.”
“It’s all you’re going to get.”
I’m an arm’s reach from him now, and I lunge forward, intending to set the knife to his throat and force an explanation out of him. But his hand darts out, quick as lightning, and tweaks my wrist so the knife falls from my fingers.
“Bastard,” I seethe, but he doesn’t let go. He catches my other wrist and pulls me in so I’m standing between his knees.
“You don’t seem scared of me, Nick,” he purrs. “I think you lack the proper respect for my title.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Let’s see—I could follow my own laws and send you away in a skiff tomorrow. I promise to bed you well before then, so you can die happy.” His full mouth twists in a smirk.
I jerk against his hold on my wrists. “Asshole.”
“Or,” he continues, “I could take you to Ravensbeck with me, as my captive. But the only way they’ll accept that option is if I claim you as mine.”
“Yours?” I quiver in his grip. “Yourwhat?”
Locke trails his gaze down my chest, where the robe has loosened and parted. “A pirate captain or king is expected to have lovers. In the past, a captain might pay a woman to come along for the voyage and serve him in bed. That woman was untouchable by anyone else aboard. Only the captain could use her, or punish her.” His left eyebrow arches slightly.
“You’re talking about prostitution.” I stare at him, incredulous. “You want me to be your whore?”
“Like it or not, the Pirate King’s whore would have protection that a simple passenger from a merchant ship would not,” Locke says. “And you’re already providing those services to me. I would simply pay you for any future interludes between us. The crew already suspects that we’ve been intimate, that I’m showing you favor because of my affinity for you. If we announce officially that you’re going to be my paid whore, they won’t protest so strongly about keeping you aboard.”
Fury spikes hot inside me, but I force my face to stay smooth. “Let me go,” I say softly. “So I can touch you.”
Smirking, Locke releases my wrists immediately. I smile gently, reaching for his cheek—and then I strike him as hard as I can. His head whips aside, and his mouth falls open in shock.
“I’d rather jump in the ocean,” I hiss.
“That can be arranged.” He massages his cheekbone. “Damn, woman, you’ve gotten strong. I’m not sure why you’re so angry—you told me yourself there was nothing meaningful between us.”
“There isn’t,” I say, though my soul quivers at the denial.
“Then you shouldn’t object so strongly to this. It’s your only way to avoid a watery grave. You’re lucky I have the power to offer you an alternative.”
“If you have so much power, why didn’t you use it to save those two women from theLady Marcella?” I go for another slap, but he captures my wrist again, his eyes igniting to white flame. He rises, towering over me, but I refuse to be cowed. “You could have helped them, and you didn’t!”
“I am bound by my own laws!” he shouts. “They mean nothing if I don’t follow them myself! That’s why I’m offering you this one way out, this choice that might be halfway acceptable to my crew so I don’t lose my credibility.”
“And that’s all you care about—your credibility.” My voice shakes, and my throat feels tight as a drum. “What about my honor?”
“Let’s talk about yourhonor,” he says, low and dangerous. “Let’s discuss the way you begged me to take you when we stood on the forepeak together. How you bared your ass for me, and let me slip inside you—”
“Stop,” I whisper.
“You’re so very honorable, Veronica,” he croons, crowding me backward toward the cabin wall. “So honorable that if I slid my hand under that robe right now, I’d find you ready and wanting.”
“No,” I protest. “I’m not—” But I pause, open-mouthed, because Iam. Without even realizing it, I’ve become incredibly aroused. My body is preparing itself for him, even while I argue and struggle.
I retreat until my back hits the wall, and I stand there—confused, angry, torn.
39
