Page 38 of Bloody Black

I drag Robb into the galley by the scruff of his neck, fury burning through every limb. He yelps and tries to turn, but I’m too strong and too close, limiting his movements. He tries to elbow me in the chest.

It’s a hard strike; a good one. But I have Rokhur’s borrowed strength, and it’ll take a hell of a lot more than that to stop me.

I shove him face-down onto the counter.

“You bloody liar,” I say roughly, as I pin his arms behind his back, rebinding them at the wrists. “I cannot believe what you just did—”

“It’s called helping you ,” Robb huffs. “I’m surprised you’re unfamiliar with it.”

I tighten the knots, not caring if they cut into his skin. “Don’t play games with me. Your friend, Larew, had far more than crew on that ship.”

He squirms as fury rages through me like a storm. A terrible suspicion strikes me.

“Tell me what that handshake meant,” I snarl. “Did you pass him a note? Did you signal him somehow?”

“With all due respect, Captain Blackbeard, fuck you.”

“That’s all you men ever seem to think about,” I hiss, leaning over his back. “I saw you looking at Holly. Your tongue hanging out of your mouth.”

I need to find a way to make him tell me what he knows, because he’s deflecting. Again. Doing what men do best: smile and seduce until you forget what bastards they are.

I’m so intent on the knots I’m tying that I fail to notice he’s stopped struggling. Robb lies still, cheek pressed against the wooden counter, eyes closed. Breathing as hard as I am, each exhale leaves his chest in a ragged rush.

“Why were you angry that I went to the brothel?” I demand. “The truth.”

“Because I don’t want to imagine you with other men.” He says it so plainly, I’m taken aback.

“Why would you even care? You’d rather it be you?”

He shifts under me uncomfortably. “Of course, if you weren’t so afraid of me—”

“I’m not afraid of anything, Maynard,” I growl, seeing red.

“It’s lieutenant . And the only thing you do more often than threaten me is lie to me, so you can’t blame me for being confused, sweetheart .”

I pause, staring down at his back–broad shouldered, muscular, clad in sapphire blue–and am almost overcome with the savage need to plunge a knife into it. But then, another thought rises to the surface, unbidden and uninvited.

Men are always so sensitive about their manhood; it’s the thing that’s most precious to them. Most would rather take a bullet to the ribs than a kick to the groin… Threatening their dick is the best way to scare them.

I reach around his waist, slip my hand down beneath the band of his pants. His cock is half-hard, heavy in my hand. Big and soft-skinned. My fingers barely wrap around him.

“You saw what I did to Roger. What did you think?” I drag my nails along his length.

He swallows audibly. “That he deserved it.”

The answer surprises me. I squeeze, my nails pressing into him. I’m so angry, so angry I almost can’t see straight. My heart thuds erratically, white noise in my ears.

“There were women on that boat. They were being held captive. Did you know?”

“I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me, Robb.” I long to hear him cry out.

To have him under me. This is not necessarily shocking.

But what is surprising is that I do not mean it in the murderous way.

But, in the sexual way. The way I once wanted William.

This pisses me off even more. There’s a war within me, and the armies are desire and fear.

Robb takes a deep, shuddering breath, drawing my attention back to his mouth. To all the items on the counter.

He exhales softly against a coffee cup. “I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t do that. ”

His fingers, still tied behind his back, shift. Ever so slightly. Right between my legs. Massaging. Like he’s trying to calm me.

My entire focus narrows to this. His stroking. Despite all his training, all the hours he sweated through sword fighting and gun battles, all those toned muscles and his sharp mind, he’s not even attempting to push me away. He’s letting me touch him.

I’m allowing him to touch me.

Both of us barely breathe. Neither of us knows what it means.

Our hands map each other in silence, mine grasping his length, his tracing slow, soothing circles over my mound. My breasts almost graze his back, and I lean forward a little more, shifting my hips toward his hands.

He’s big. I don’t know if I could take it. Wouldn’t even know what to do with him. I’m an absolute novice, and I hate that I’m even thinking about that.

“I can’t decide if I should kill you or shove you into the sea, just so you don’t distract me. I think you’ll have most of my crew worshipping you within another week.”

Robb makes a hmming sound. “I must be confused. Was that a compliment?”

“It wasn’t. I dislike you.”

“As you should. Since we’re enemies and all.”

My so-called enemy, who currently has his hand between my legs. Who lied to save us, even though he didn’t have to. Neither of these things seems to bother him. Or at least, not as much as they bother me. Throwing him into the sea would be preferable to the stirrings he creates in my chest .

He’s not holding you. You can easily step away or fight him off. You’re in control. And you’re supposed to be seducing him, aren’t you?

His eyes are closed, his lashes dark against his cheek.I watch his face, searching for any sign of danger or dishonesty. “I need something from you, Lieutenant.”

“Name it.”

Mmm. What that does to me.

“Stand up,” I say at last. “Turn around.”

Robb does, slowly unfolding his frame. His expression is cautious, like he can’t decide if I’m going to kill him, slap him, or run screaming from the room.

I rub at the black marks on my neck, thinking. He’s taller than me, which I hate. I prefer to look a man in the eye when I yell at him.

“Why are you so nice to me?” I ask abruptly. “From the moment we boarded your ship, when we met in the tavern. Once you knew I was Blackbeard.” Before he can answer, I continue. “If you expect me to murder you, why bother being charming?”

His gaze licks up my spine like flame to oil, as if there’s lightning shooting into my body. As inexperienced as I am, I know what these feelings mean. The heat in my abdomen, the thrum in my veins. The intensity with which he studies me, the way he leans closer, how his pupils dilate.

“You think I’m charming?”

“No, I think you are dangerous. Answer my question.” Scowling, I cross my arms over my chest. This has the unintended and very undesirable effect of pushing up my breasts, and Robb’s gaze flicks down to them.

“I’m nice to you , Captain, because I know your heart isn’t as black as everyone claims.”

When I don’t respond, he continues. “Since we’re admitting our feelings, I like you too.” His lips quirk on one side.

“That would be strange, given our history.” Still, I think it over. He’s not wearing a ring, but there was that poem in the stateroom. “You’re not married, are you?”

I’m guessing. I have no idea.

“Your powers of observation are astonishing,” he replies dryly.

Maybe I’ll kiss him. Just to see if he breaks.

Just to prove to myself that there’s nothing I can’t control.

After all, I’ve survived rape. I’ve survived murder.

I’ve survived swords, knives, guns, and lies, so surely, surely, I can survive one irritatingly handsome man with pretty eyes.

Especially one with his hands tied behind his back.

Plus, he did just admit that he likes me.

I chew my lip, thinking it over. Perhaps I could kiss him. Just to see if I can do it. To see if Holly is right. To show that William is not the only man I’ll ever be able to be close to.

After all, they are different. He’s tall, but not as tall as William.

Robb’s broader, more muscular, with a physique that seems like it’s carved from marble.

His hair is dark instead of burnt gold. He smells like light musk, sweat, and ocean.

I’m breathing him in, trying to decipher it. Assessing the risk.

Robb’s lips part. He wets them with his tongue.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” I say abruptly. “I don’t like it.”

“Alright.” He doesn’t believe me. Possibly because we’re standing so close, my fingers tight on his shirt.

The ship lists, and I’m stumbling a bit, as our mouths meet. It’s not practiced. Not well coordinated. Unbalanced. But he kisses me.

It’s a real kiss, not frantic, not rushed. And he’s… He’s been having those salted caramels that Holly fancies. This makes Robb’s mouth different from William’s in every way. Lush. Pillowy. Soft. Sweet.

Kissing him is not quite the horror that I thought it would be.

Some forgotten part of me celebrates. I can do this. This is nothing. My fear fades, bit by bit, as I touch my tongue to his. Tentative. We’re chest to chest, I’m up on my tiptoes.

Robb makes a lovely sound of pleasure, a vibrating rumble, and strains at the rope binding him. He starts to lean back, to pull away, and my fingers tighten on the fabric, holding him to me.

Don’t stop. Not yet.

Maybe it’s because I’m so cold, but discovering the heat of his skin fills me with delight.

My body cries out for more, thrilled with the sensation of being touched.

Our tongues meet again, this time more forcefully.

It wakes up every nerve in my body, like all this time I’ve been sleepwalking.

He’s the first man to be near me in years who isn’t screaming or dying or trying to kill me, and I lap up his enthusiasm like a cat with a bowl of heavy cream. I’m so alive, I’m drowning in it.

I slip my hands up into his hair and pull him closer… thick, sweat-damp, weaving around my knuckles as I tug his head to mine.

Robb pushes against me until my back is against the wall of the galley.

My left leg raises and wraps around his waist, and his hips arch obligingly.

For a second, I wish he were holding my knee.

Wrists unbound. Coaxing me. Clearly, I’m going insane, too long at sea, if I’m hoping my sworn enemy will do that sort of thing.

My heart stutters, as if the body Rokhur magicked back into existence can barely withstand him. But I give a little whimper and shift my hips, and my reward is the sensation of his cock.

“Robb.” I’m ravenous. I’m rediscovering what I’ve been missing. For a first kiss, it’s absolutely mind-blowing.

His lips cruise over mine, suck gently, and then he thrusts against me.

Salted caramels. The press of his body and the scent of his skin.

I want to do this all day—all the time. Kissing and touching him.

It feels like a dam bursting. Like my heart is a raft in a river, surrounded by rage and despair.

I want him to save me so desperately, with a ferocity that makes my chest ache.

“Sweetheart, I—let me… Fuck,” he swears softly.

It’s that word.

That one, small, very specific, horrible word.

And I’m right there. I’m back at the dock, and they are on top of me, anchoring me, and the snow is falling, and they are putting their hands on me, and I can’t do anything. I can’t do anything. I’m fighting as hard as I can, and I can’t do anything.

Panic hits me like a tide. I have to get away, I have to get away, I have to.

“Get off of me!” I shout, my voice echoing off the walls. With no hesitation, I bite his lip ferociously, shoving him back with every ounce of force I possess .

Robb stumbles, thrown off balance. His expression is as if I have slapped him. His mouth bleeds, a thin red trickle from the marks made by my teeth. His shirt is askew, half unbuttoned, which must have been me, too. His hair falls over his green eyes, his cheeks faintly flushed.

As for me? Blackbeard? My eyes are full of unshed tears, every muscle in my body clenched so hard that I can barely breathe. Unable to look away, unable to look at him, I focus on a very specific place in the center of his chest, trying to think of what to say.

“Teach wants more coffee,” Xandretta’s voice rasps.

I jolt like I’ve been struck. Yanked back to earth. Back to the galley, dark and overwarm and smelling of oranges.

Xandretta coughs awkwardly as she enters. Robb steps aside since his body is blocking the cabinet.

I stare over his shoulder and out the porthole. Fighting my shame while the djinn slowly rummages through a cupboard.

She makes no attempt to leave quickly. Before she goes, my first mate gives me an appraising look, notes the disarray of his clothing.

“I—I don’t know what I did.” Robb is staring at his feet.

I have zero interest in telling him. He’s still rock hard, tenting his pants, but I’d rather die than go near him again.

“Let’s be clear, Lieutenant,” I say, voice like frost on steel. “This was a one-time experiment, and I did not enjoy it.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I lift my chin, stubbornly.

“Lie. Don’t lie to me. I don’t like it. ”

I don’t either. I consider it a cardinal sin. Yet, I remember how Sable told me that Robb has known William since they were children, but Robb said he’s sailed for him for only six months. That would be a lie, wouldn’t it?

“Get out,” I tell him, my eyes shifting back to the porthole, on the storm-gray sea. “Get out and leave me be.”