Page 25 of A Princess, Stolen (A Kiss of Revenge, Blood, and Love #1)
T hat night, Nathan brought me a wool blanket and wrapped it around me as tightly as you would swaddle a baby.
He also put a hat on my head, which I prayed wasn’t covered in nits and lice.
The warmth was still wonderful. He didn’t say a word and left me bound.
Three times, he stopped to watch me, staring at me with raised eyebrows, obviously waiting for me to tell him how I had freed myself.
Since I remained silent, he marched off after a while, cursing wildly.
When the light of dusk flowed down the stairs, I was exhausted and ready to tell him about the ring since the prospect of a shower tempted me. This time though, when Nathan came to me, he snapped the two cable ties on my wrists with a pair of pliers before I even said a word.
“Why?” I asked, taken aback, looking at my hands. They were pale blue like a corpse and felt like it too. I opened and closed my fingers several times and then lowered my arms. Everything hurt, but the worst was the pulling in my legs, which might have been emanating from my back.
Nathan put the pliers away. “You’ll find out. Just know I had no choice.”
“I thought you always had a choice?”
His gaze was destructive, like fire and ice. “We’re going to the mess, got it?”
He started moving, but I could barely keep up because I was so unsteady on my feet. Exhausted, I held on to one of the wide bars that ran the length of the corridor. “To the mess?” I asked, confused. “You’re holding a service here?”
He didn’t turn. “The mess is the dining room on a ship. You have to eat something.”
I thought about my allergy. Hopefully, some provisions in this mess had the ingredients listed.
Or rice and raw vegetables. “Why didn’t you have a choice?
” I asked again because, according to Troy, it was definitely against Nathan’s nature not to keep promises.
He had even described himself as uncompromising. Uncompromising but not cruel.
“Can you stop with the questions?” He waited for me at the ladder and grabbed my arm to help me up.
He guided me through the wind and spray across the deck to a staircase that led to the bridge tower.
On the small cutter, this tower was not particularly high; two stories, no more.
Through the haze of gas fumes, fried fat, and dust, we climbed two narrow internal staircases, and the higher we ascended, the more I felt the rocking of the waves.
“How big is this cutter?” I felt dizzy but pushed it aside. The comment about having no choice still stuck with me. Something wasn’t right. Nathan seemed tense, even more so than the days before.
Now, he gave me a fleeting sideways glance. “Big enough. There’s a place for everyone to sleep and there’s food and a shower. I’ve never had such luxury before.”
“And how old is it?”
“Ancient.”
When I peered out through a portal, I saw the stern from above.
The deck was big enough for a group of twenty people to sit together in a circle on beer crates in addition to all the fishing gear.
But I also noticed the corrosion spots—there was no question about it, the cutter was as rusty as an old iron nail.
“The Agamemnon is a fishing boat, not necessarily suitable for deep-sea fishing but for along the coast,” Nathan explained briefly, following my gaze.
Agamemnon. Hence all the names from Greek mythology . “Isn’t it dangerous to go out this far with her?”
“Who says we’re far out?” Nathan vigorously pushed open the door in front of us.
It revealed a tiny room in 1970s style with beige tiled walls, a worn ochre carpet, and a wobbly table with chairs and a corner bench.
“Sit!” He nodded vaguely into the room and released my arm, but I remained rooted to the spot.
The dining room was full of men in burgundy hoodies.
“This is the first shift. You hardly saw anyone clearly from the second shift and it should stay that way. You sleep when they’re on watch.”
“Okay.” My stomach did a triple flip-flop.
Troy, Pan, and Taurus were sitting on the corner bench.
The colorful bull head on Taurus’ forehead seemed to want to impale me directly, but maybe that was because of Taurus’ hostile expression.
His dark eyes bored into mine, so I quickly looked at the Jesus guy with the preacher’s face—his name was Delphi, like the oracle.
I remembered that. Next to Delphi sat the skinny man with the long dreadlocks and next to him was a guy with a narrow greyhound face and dead-straight hair who was playing with a teaspoon.
He, Delphi, and Troy were the only ones who weren’t staring at me as if they wanted to pour accelerant on me and set me on fire right then and there.
So much for not being killers. So much for being good men!
Nervous, I swallowed and stared at the window behind their heads. The ocean was gray and murky, the horizon a blurry line. It looked like rain. Suddenly, I felt the tightness in my chest like two iron hands squeezing my lungs, but a sharp voice tore me out of the feeling of unreality.
“Are you hard of hearing? I said sit!” Nathan’s expression brooked no argument, so I sat on the furthest seat on the corner bench next to Troy, ready to jump up at any second if necessary.
With a hard expression, Nathan pointed to the plates stacked on the table.
“There’s no beluga caviar, salmon, or whatever else you nobles eat for breakfast.”
Naturally, he had to make such a comment.
“You eat what we eat!” Pan said, eyeing me suspiciously as if I could turn him into a rabbit. Behind him, the greyhound man magically made the spoon he had been playing with disappear. Troy looked at him with his mouth open. “How did you do that?”
Nathan ignored them both, pulled up a chair, and plopped down next to me, blocking the way to the door. “Eat!”
First, I took off the hat I was still wearing and set it on the bench next to me.
“I’m not hungry,” I lied and looked at the plates on the table with a bad feeling.
There were sausages, a mountain of scrambled eggs with bacon, a torn-open pre-packaged cake, and a basket of bread; however, even bread could contain traces of nuts, and peanut butter was taboo.
Nathan looked at me with his narrow gray eyes and leaned forward.
“Do you know, princess, what I absolutely do not tolerate on board?” He paused artfully, during which there was dead silence, only the greyhound guy was unfazed and reached behind Pan’s ear and pulled out the spoon.
Nathan gave him a death glare. “Objections,” he finally said.
I said nothing, and just like that evening, everyone stared at me.
Nervously, I fiddled with the hem of my dress.
I noticed that the men were unshaven and Taurus smelled of sour liquor.
The dreadlocked man had red-violet spots on his face that looked more like smallpox than acne and his eyes glowed feverishly as if he longed for my humiliation.
Pan pointed two fingers at me, then at his eyes, a gesture that everyone in the world understood even without words: I’m watching you .
Nathan stoically pushed a plate toward me and put a fork next to it. “Whether you’re hungry or not, you’re going to eat something so you don’t keel over on us. You’re not leaving until then.”
Meanwhile, he shoveled a mountain of scrambled eggs and bacon onto a plate and began eating unperturbed.
His jaw muscles were bulging, which appeared dangerous, so I quickly looked away, but didn’t know where to look.
I had no idea how to act. The room was becoming charged with a tension that made the fine hairs on my arms stand upright.
Nathan wanted me to eat, but I couldn’t without giving away my secret.
And everyone else was waiting to see who would win the showdown.
In the doorway was another man, a guy with a shaved head and blue overalls.
His pale spongy face shone, reminding me of the underside of a mushroom, but no one took notice of him.
“Let her go if she doesn’t want to eat,” Delphi said at some point, so I gave him a shy, grateful look. He didn’t smile, but there was no hostility in his eyes either.
“She’ll leave when she’s eaten.” Nathan continued eating, pretending to be calm but the tense muscles in his arm gave him away. Further back on the corner bench, the man with dreadlocks started coughing, sounding like he was about to hawk up his lungs.
Everyone else looked from Nathan to me and back again. Even the man in the doorway.
“Do you have any saltines?” I finally asked cautiously, realizing that Nathan was more serious than I initially believed.
“Saltines?” He looked up, shocked. “Are you seasick?”
“Yes!” I lied quickly.
“You eat what’s in front of you, princess. You won’t receive any special treatment, understand? Again, there are no private chefs, no employees, and no one to wipe your ass.”
“What’s special about saltines?” I asked timidly, feeling anger rising inside me.
He couldn’t say anything to me. For a moment, I thought his face softened and he’d give in, but when he opened his mouth, he said, “You’re trying my patience.
Be happy you’re not hanging on the bars anymore,” and then he said to the guy leaning in the doorway, “Don’t you have anything to do or why are you standing there like a gossip? ”
Instead of leaving, the man with the mushroom skin hissed something in a foreign language that reminded me a bit of French.
I didn’t know what he’d said, but Nathan jumped up with his hands clenched. At first, I was afraid he was going to hit the other man, but he simply rained down a torrent of strange words on him that sounded like a warning.
The man with the spongy skin said something again that I didn’t understand and made a cutthroat gesture in my direction.
Nathan pushed him out of the room. “Get out of here, Mykonos!”
“What did he say?” I asked anxiously. You many enemies! You be careful!