His eyes snare mine, and after a second he chuckles, his grip on my forearms easing. “I suppose you’re right about that. You’re entitled to your anger.”
“Kind of you.” I writhe, trying to shake off his hands altogether, but I only succeed in disarranging my robe completely. Locke’s gaze darts to my exposed flesh.
At the look on his face, I stop moving.
A trembling stillness hovers between us, charged air thrumming and quaking, like the prickle of acrid heat before a lightning storm.
Locke lays a broad palm on my bare stomach, and my flesh quivers at his touch.
Every inch of my body wants that hand of his to slide lower. But my heart is sore, and my mind is weary. Not one hour ago I was hanging naked in front of every man on this ship, and I think being pleasured by Locke right now would wound me, scar my soul.
His fingers shift incrementally lower.
“No,” I whisper.
Locke stops, eyes glued to mine. I shake my head at him.
He nods, tucking the folds of the robe over my body. “As milady wishes.”
40
Locke doesn’t ask permission before climbing into the captain’s bunk with me, but he turns his back to mine, and he’s careful to leave a slim corridor of space between us. The next few hours pass fitfully for me—I doze a little, but mostly I fret over the new part I’m going to have to play.
I’m going to be the Pirate King’s whore, his servicer, his hired lover. Instead of hiding my sexuality, I’ll have to play it up, exaggerate it.
Back home in Ivris, I was taught a refined sort of allure—a sexuality just tempting enough to attract suitors without being too potent. Of course I went far past the line where I was supposed to stop, adding tiny winks and tantalizing touches, drawing men into closets and dark corners, letting them sample everything I was supposed to be saving for marriage.
I suppose, being thickly freckled as I was, lacking the clear complexion of the other women my age, I didn’t expect any of the men to court me seriously, so I comforted myself by taking whatever scraps of pleasure they wanted to give me. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing I got there before their future wives did. Despite my imperfections, I could give a man a good time.
The idea of playing prostitute to the Pirate King shouldn’t bother me so deeply. After all, as he said, I’ve allowed him access to my body already. The rest is simply a strategy to excuse my continued presence on board.
But itdoesbother me, because I have so many complicated feelings toward him—longing, anguish, betrayal, distrust, affection, craving, and yes, even hatred.
After we slept together on the islands, he told me he thought we “had something.” And I repudiated the notion, when I should have been honest with him—should have told him about the connection I feel, how my heart is entwined with his.
At least, my heartwasentwined with Locke’s. This new person, this Pirate King—I don’t know him. There’s a scope and depth to him that frightens me—horizons unknown in his past, present, and future.
My eyes fly open. Forget sleep—I’m galvanized with the need to know more about him.
“Are you awake?” I whisper.
No answer.
I revolve in the bed, peering at Locke’s bare back. The room is lit by a single candle, and its glow picks out the black markings on his tanned skin.
How can he sleep right now, when everyone on the ship is either frightened or furious over this night’s events? What if Captain Neelan decides to try mutiny?
“Locke,” I whisper. “Is that even your name? What do I call you now? Your Pirate Majesty? My employer?”
“Milord will do,” he mumbles. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“How can you sleep at such a time?”
“I’ve learned to seize rest when I can get it.”
“But aren’t you afraid Neelan might mutiny?”
Sighing, Locke rolls over to face me. “He won’t. If he killed me, there wouldn’t be a port or tavern he could enter safely. He’d be a hunted man throughout the Shorn Seas, the seven kingdoms, and beyond. I have loyal friends all over the world, Nick—and where people don’t love me, they fear me. You and I are perfectly safe.”
