Page 39 of Bloody Black

B y the time I return to the deck, a storm has blown in. Wind whips around us, the sky iron gray. Rain drizzles, and a drop of water trails down Robb’s cheek.

Bizarrely, I think of licking it–licking his tears away.

His hair is already damp, darkening to black.

His eyes are such a unique and startling shade of green.

It’s criminal that eyes so beautiful belong to someone who is my sworn enemy.

Something tugs beneath my ribs, and if I were religious, I would say it was my soul moving.

“Better?” Xandretta asks, tone flat as always.

I jerk like I’ve been caught stealing. “Not quite the word I’d use.”

Whatever I am, better is not it. It’s raining and he’s soaked to the skin. It’s raining and I’ve bitten him. Lightning streaks the sky overhead, followed by a boom of thunder, as if to accentuate the point. This itch, this irritating tingle? It’s desire.

Even dead, I’d still recognize it .

I was turned on , attracted to him, for gods’ sake. I shouldn’t have kissed him. Kissing him in the galley was absolutely, devastatingly stupid. And then I panicked in front of him, almost started crying. Me!

“Next time you want to grind against our handsome prisoner, wait until the ship isn’t flooding.” Xandretta cracks her knuckles. “You left a porthole open. Water flooded in.”

Tamping down on the absurd impulse to scream, I take the helm, gritting my teeth.

I wait for her to say something else, and when she doesn’t, we both look over at Robb. His eyes are closed, his head tilted back. He’s smiling up at the storm, a saucy, roguish grin. His wrists are still tied behind his back.

Meanwhile, Prudence stares him down like some sort of demonic sentinel. Cataloguing his weaknesses.

“Yo-ho, yo-ho! Hoist the colors high!” Samson bellows, flinging his arms wide. Rain slicks his purple spines, and he tilts back his bald head with a grin. There are some people who are happiest when water soaks their skin. Samson is undeniably one of them.

“Must you always be so annoying?” Domino wrings out her braid.

“To sing,” he announces, “is to be in love with the world.” He starts toward her, then nearly trips over a mop bucket.

“Ayeeee!” Holly shouts down at us. She and Mercy swing overhead on ropes, hair flying, enjoying the downpour.

Samson grasps one of the ropes, and a loose sail whips back and forth, dragging him across the deck. “Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me!” he wrenches it hard left and wraps the rope around a cleat. Even Jolly Roger dances, his black cloak flapping like a murder of crows.

Domino strolls toward Robb, blade in hand. Casually, without a care, she cuts through the rope binding his hands.

“Hey! What are you doing?” I demand.

“We can’t have a man this pretty drown in the rain,” she purrs.

Robb flexes, a slow, appreciative roll of his shoulders. “Why, thank you. You always this generous to prisoners?”

“Only the ones worth fucking,” she says, with a very pronounced wink at me.

I gnash my teeth and glare at my first mate. “Did you tell her already?”

Xandretta shrugs.

My crew on the upper deck is reclining, drinking rum in the rain. Storms break up the monotony. Meanwhile, Robb’s sailors stand out like a sore thumb. Shifting, awkward, not quite sure what to do.

Most likely, he sends him below deck. Wouldn’t want those fancy coats to get wet.

Prudence climbs the mast. When she reaches the crow’s nest, she gives Roger an exaggerated salute. She runs along the beam in bare feet, leaps off the edge, and her body forms a sliver, arcing through the air, diving into the sea.

“What the hell?” Robb freezes, thunder in his jaw, like he’s watching a pack of wild animals.

Then, he spots Holly. She balances on the rail like a girl playing goddess, arms flung wide to greet the tempest. Her copper hair snaps in the wind, a banner of defiance. Laughing .

The sea will not yield. Rebellious, obstinate, it reaches for my tidecaller with blue-green fingers, ripping her from the ledge.

“Aren’t you going to join in?” Robb asks Domino.

“Can’t swim.” Domino studies her nails, shrugs her shoulders carelessly. “Never learned.”

“She can , but doesn’t care to,” Xandretta grumbles.

“I thought you’re a sprite.” He’s incredulous.

“I’m an Earth Fae , kidnapped and brought to The Flying Rose. I don’t even like being near water.”

“Five gold coins if you’ll dive. From way up high.” Prudence points, still dripping wet from the sea.

Robb looks mystified. “Jump from the masthead? Are you mad?”

“No place better than the tippy tippy top,” Domino answers.

“That’s insane.” Robb’s skin has lost three shades and is now an unhealthy beige.

We veer sideways, and a massive wave crashes over the side, drowning us all for half a beat. The wind rips through my hair.

“Why don’t you give it a try, Lieutenant?” Prudence gives him an evil smile. “Prove to our beautiful captain how brave you really are.”

His eyes narrow; I can practically hear him thinking, These women can do it. Why not me?

It’s not a good idea. Walking the crossbeam requires fantastic balance, but also, total confidence.

From the look on his face, I can tell the lieutenant doesn’t have it.

Meanwhile, the seas are only getting rougher.

Our ship pitches backward, and I wrap my arms around the wooden banister, somewhat worried I’ll fall out on the other side.

“Don’t do it,” I tell him, once I’ve righted myself. “You don’t have to.”

“You think I’m too soft to sail with you.”

Yes, but… Of course, that’s not the reason. The topmast is seventy feet high, with multiple crossbeams. In these rolling seas, it is near impossible to keep your balance on, even if it’s something you walk on daily.

I don’t want him to get hurt, and of course, I’d rather not admit that. Especially not aloud to him, nor to my crew.

“If you die, we’ll erect a monument. Nude, obviously.” Domino grins at him.

“Obviously.” Robb yanks off his boots and socks. Then his shirt.

Stands. Crosses the deck. As he goes, we all notice that Robb’s broad back is covered in a patchwork of scars.

Sometime in his past, he was lashed. Whipped so thoroughly, it looks like a miracle that he lived.

Between his shoulder blades, there’s a tattoo of a crow, its wings outstretched, words shackling its feet.

Vengeance is mine. That’s what it says. It doesn’t seem to match anything else about him. I’d ponder it longer, but I’m distracted, watching his muscles ripple as he seizes the rope. Grimacing as he begins to climb.

Like a child, I want to cover my eyes.

Halfway up, he waves. Rain falls on his shoulders; his chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven bursts. The mast sways in his arms, slick as an otter, and his knuckles whiten. Below, the sea surges like a wild thing .

“If he’s not afraid, he’s a fool.”

“I like that in a man,” Domino sighs longingly.

“Stupidity?” I scowl up at his rain-soaked form.

“Bravery.” She elbows me in the ribs. “If you don’t want him, I’m available.”

“He’s not even married.” I can now say this with authority.

We all watch as Robb creeps across the wooden beam. Barefoot, his arms out to both sides for balancing. He goes at inchworm speed, but he does it.

“Lunatic,” I mumble, squinting in the wind. “Going to get himself killed.”

“Aye. And we should let him,” Prudence growls.

But Robb stands tall, proving us all wrong. His hands are out to both sides, his dark hair ruffled and falling into his eyes. Next to him, Jolly Roger spins in the wind as wave after wave rocks the ship, but he seems to handle it fine. At the very least, he is still alive.

A tiny burst of pride unfurls in my chest. He’s so ridiculously handsome, it makes him hard to resist. And he’s a phenomenal kisser. Perhaps we could do that again.

It all seems to be going very well for him, until Roger—the very dead, very Jolly Roger—twists his rotting head and smiles.

Robb startles. His foot slips. Just a little, but enough. His eyes go wide, and for one frozen heartbeat, he’s weightless. Then he’s realized what he’s done, but there’s nothing to grasp, no rope within reach.

Robb’s body plummets toward the deck. No flailing; no scream. Like a dark angel falling from heaven .

He’s my captive, my enemy. He’ll undoubtedly sabotage my mission. Divide me from my crew. And he’s most certainly here to kill me.

Now I needn’t fear that, because now Death will swallow him up; claim him.

No. The word sits alongside a breathless silence in my head.

“NO!” My voice rings out, steady and absolute, louder than the storm itself. It’s a command destined to make the world bend. Energy shudders through the ship; the wooden boards and nails themselves tremble with the force of it.

Maybe it is fury, or maybe it is fear, but I call upon Rokhur’s borrowed power, claw it out of my bones.

The bargains burn upon my throat as red mist erupts from my skin.

Cascades down my chest and threads through my hair.

Blood-red, and rushing toward Robb. But the magic will be too late. Too weak.

I won’t be able to save him, because I’m not strong enough.

My hands jerk upward, clenching my own head, fingertips digging into my hair as I scream.

But then… something strange happens. A curious, curious thing.

A flash of purple light erupts, swooping toward him. Shielding his body, stretching over his frame. In a blink, it wraps Robb like a fish, dredging him upward, back toward safety. Forming a shield.

Then it slowly lowers him.

I sprint down the steps to where he lands, dragging him into my lap. I cradle his head, brushing soaked strands of hair from his forehead with trembling fingers .

“Robb.” His name breaks in my mouth. I say it again. Again. “Are you alright?”

“Did I impress you?” His beautiful green eyes blink up at me.

“Not really.” My fingers trail upon his jaw. “You’re stupid and clumsy.”

As a result of using the demon’s magic, a new burn sears across my neck. It adds another line to the beard, but I’m so relieved that he’s alive, I barely even wince.

“You screamed my name.”

“Did not.”

“Wishful thinking on my part then.” Robb closes his eyes, his smile faint.

I still have my hand on his chest, touching him. And he’s lying in my lap, touching me. It’s uncomfortable, but I don’t feel my typical sense of alert and panic. Because I’m getting used to him.

“You nearly died, just to impress me?” I say.

“At least now you won’t underestimate my affection.”

That’s true, I suppose I won’t. I lift my eyes from his face to find Rokhur unmoving,standing at the far end of the deck.

Her robes cling like shredded silk, and her bedraggled hair is dripping with rain.

Her eyes glow faintly, twin coals of crimson.

I didn’t summon her, but she’s come nevertheless.

Was she drawn by my scream, or our bargain?

Is she worried about me, apparently now able to use her power?

Or is she here because she wanted some part of his body? A hand? A finger? A new toe? I clench his shirt a little more tightly.

And as for the purple glow? I know exactly what that is .

Prudence. She’s standing at the rail, her hands still outstretched, bathed in violet light. She saved him, even though she’d much rather see him die. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.

Xandretta kneels beside me, her eyes narrowing at the purple glow fades from Robb’s skin. And at the red mist, receding across the deck. Her eye catches mine, and we’re both thinking the same thing.

I lied to him.

Robb Maynard is not clumsy; he would have made it across that mast just fine. We know exactly who is to blame for Robb’s fall. Not a slip, not a wave, not his own feet.

Roger, the dead man tied to my mast, turning his head and smiling? There are only two women on this ship who have enough magic for that, Rokhur and Prudence, and Prudence just saved him.