Hook's Pan (16 page)

His lips curved into a small smile. “You think too hard. The maiden is you, Trishelle. They believe you have claimed me.” Eyes twinkling with laughter, he pursed his lips and her heart hammered painfully in her chest.

“What? No way. That’s silly. Pft.”

Why was she acting like this, fluttering her wrist and stammering on and on, it was obvious she was making a spectacle of herself, but the nerves in her stomach wouldn’t let her stop.

“Of course, pure rubbish.”

She sniffed. “Of course it is.”

Fidgeting with her dress, she shrugged, quickly changing the subject. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you something too. Earlier when Maiven said that to you, that you took Talia away from her. I just wanted you to know, it’s not true. I’m not saying I’m Talia, but I know this as fact, even if she’d known how it would have ended, she still would have chosen you.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked over his shoulder and this was one of those rare times when she really had nothing more to say.

But sometimes saying nothing at all was exactly what needed to be said anyway.

They’d stayed in the gardens until twilight had crested the watery horizon, turning their navy blue world into an aquamarine sunrise. For reasons he still couldn’t quite understand he’d been loath to leave their oasis. No more maidens had come, and for a while, it’d felt like the world had been theirs alone.

But eventually he’d seen her fatigue, the way she’d rested her head upon the stamen. All the gold flakes in her hair, and the way the lights had glowed, she’d appeared angelic and he couldn’t make sense of the soft feelings she inspired in him.

The woman made him laugh with her nonsensical rambling. But more than that he felt like he’d known her forever. And not because of Talia, it was just easy to be with Trishelle. She understood the mask he wore, could describe it so perfectly, that he sensed perhaps she wore one too. It made her sympathetic in his eyes. The realization of that broke him out in a cold sweat and finally spurred him on to head back to the ship.

And though perhaps he understood her better, he wasn’t ready to ask her to stay. Not even close. For her to stay he’d have to love her, and for him to love her would mean allowing himself to open up to that possibility. And he simply couldn’t do that. From now on he’d keep himself at a distance, he had to.

But for all that, he could readily admit that he enjoyed her company. And that was a rare thing for him, very rare indeed. So how could he protect his heart while enjoying her company? That was a question to which he had no answer.

“Sir,” Smee came up behind him, “you should head below deck, the men are set to sail soon. You’ve not slept all night.”

He rubbed his brow. She was in his room, in his bed. He’d had every intention of being honorable, leaving her the room, but his bones ached and his head throbbed. The night had been long.

Returning to Seren had brought him the peace he’d sought. He’d laid Talia to rest last night. Danika had been right to bring him the woman, Trishelle had done in one day what a hundred years without Talia hadn’t been able to, and that was that she’d shown him reality. He’d been grieving a ghost. Talia would never return. Could never. Though her soul lived on, the maiden herself was gone.

He shook his head. “I will use your room,” he said, and then clapping his first mate’s shoulder, nodded a thanks.

“Aye, captain. I’ll wake you when we cross the drop.”

Heading below deck, he walked toward Smee’s cabin. He couldn’t help but glance at his door. Perhaps he should just check on her, make certain she was well, didn’t need anything.

All excuses and well he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from turning and making his way to his room. She didn’t even stir when he opened the door, she was flung across the mattress, breathing softly. Her face was lax, her breathing calm and again a strange fluttering took residence in his chest.

She was beautiful, curvy in all the right places. Full breasted, and hippy. He’d always enjoyed a woman with womanly curves. Her pink lips were slightly parted and he moistened his own, wondering what it would feel like to taste her the way Sircco had.

It’d bothered him to see her in his embrace. Not out of jealousy, truly, but more so because he’d ached to sample her wares. To taste the honey of her skin, nip at the sensitive flesh of her throat, and sink himself deep inside her slippery, wet folds.

Growing hard, he rearranged himself. He couldn’t sleep now and didn’t relish the thought of her staying in this cabin alone, there were too many men aboard this vessel. The thought of anyone walking in on her, seeing her this way, it filled his gut with heat. He walked in and closed the door.

Going to his desk, he sat and pulled out the drawer, grabbing a bottle of scotch and a cup—his old friends. Trishelle had marveled over the chest, at the ability to make clothes from air, but he much preferred the desk to the chest. He’d taken it from a warlord in the farthest northern realm of Kingdom. The moment he’d learned that with the mere opening of a drawer copious amounts of liquor (whatever the hearts desire) appeared, he’d known he had to have it. It’d been a simple matter to acquire the piece, though fierce on the battlefield, the lord was no match for him in cards.

Pouring out a dram, he knocked it back, then took one more just to help ease the ache in his balls. He’d bedded wenches aplenty, had his pick of women. Perhaps when they landed at their next port of call, he’d suss him out a trained whore. Anything to help ease the ache she’d created in him.

But even as he thought it, he couldn’t break his gaze from her face, the curve of her check, the length of her pale, white neck.
 

“Waxing poetic about a lass, the depths you have sunk to, James,” he chuckled beneath his breath. Leaning back in his chair, he kicked up his legs, crossed his booted feet on the desk and closed his eyes.

He was just starting to drift off when she spoke.

“You don’t have to sleep on that you know.”

“I didn’t know you were awake.”

She smiled. “I might sleep hard, but I wake up when I hear a door open. You don’t have to sleep on that chair,” she said again.

“Are you offering to share?”

Trisha sat up on her elbow and stuck out her tongue. With her hair curling up around her face and sleep still in her eyes, she was one of the most adorable things he’d ever seen. “Why are you smiling?” Her green, cat shaped eyes narrowed.

Licking his teeth, he settled his legs back on the carpet. “Because I told you you’d be begging.”

“Oh my god, did you just make a joke?” Her lips tipped into a sexy curl. “Just, ugh…” she patted the bed, scooting over, “if you promise to control your baser instincts, you can share my bed.”

“My bed, woman,” he growled in the back of his throat, deciding on the spur of the moment it might be fun to test her limits. Gathering the shirt, he drew it over his head and tossed it to the ground.

Immediately the smile on her face died and her eyes glazed over. Smirking, he shucked his boots off and then began to tug on the laces of his breeches.

“What exactly are you wearing underneath those pants, Hook?”

“Nothing. At. All.” Drink had loosened his tongue, made him playful and he didn’t fight it. Didn’t really see the need to. He was enjoying this woman, more than he’d thought he would, or even should.

Swallowing hard, she held up a hand. “Better leave that on then, don’t think my ticker can stand anymore hotness. As it is your abs nearly made my eyes melt in their sockets. And by the way, how the hell do you manage to stay so ripped on a boat? You do pilates too?”

Whatever pilates was, he’d only understood half her question, but it was easy enough to decipher the gist of it. He flexed the muscles on his stomach, pretending he hadn’t a clue what she meant.

A strange sound spilled from her lips. “You jerk. Fine, you want to hear me say it, you’re smokin’. I’m still not gonna fall in love with you, and I’m probably not gonna have sex with you. Probably.”

He laughed, a habit he was beginning to develop around her. “Probably? Mmm, progress.” Pulling his hand away from his laces, he shrugged. “I can wait. Now, go to the chest and find something more comfortable for bed.”

“The dress is fine.”

“You ordered me to the bed, I’m ordering you to dress appropriately.”

“Oh really,” her voice rose in pitch, challenge clearly ringing in her words, “fine. I’ll find something.”

Trading places, he leaned against his pillows, crossing his arms behind his head as he watched her walk to the trunk.

She’d been confidant earlier, but unless a whore, women tended to get shy at this point. Coquettish glances and sly smiles belonged on a dance floor, not in the bedroom, which was why he’d stopped pursuing proper ladies decades ago. They bored him.

Trishelle, cracked open the lid. “Does this thing pass out toothbrushes too?”

His lips quirked.

“Oh shut up,” she snapped, “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t want to brush my teeth for you, I personally don’t enjoy walking around with sleep breath.”

Raising his hands, he shook his head. “I said nothing.”

“Your smile said it all. I told you, Hook, it’s not happening.”

His balls drew up at the mere thought of caressing her peach hued skin, of running his tongue along her nipples. Would they be pink or brown, large or small? He licked his lips, she’d invited him to the bed, could she blame him for the places his mind walked? “The trunk will give you what you wish.”

Cheeks flushed rosy; she looked inside its empty hull. “This thing just keeps getting better and better. I’m surprised you’d keep it here, wouldn’t this be a beacon for any thief? Surely you don’t trust every man aboard this ship?”

Sinking to her knees, she bent over the chest and whispered words he could not hear. A flash of light surrounded her, then a pile of fabric and a tube of paste and brush appeared. Snatching up her items, she scanned the room.

“There’s a basin and pitcher of water there.” He pointed at the hatch in the wall.

“Thanks,” she smiled, taking a hop step toward the wall.

“As to your question,” he wiggled his toes, enjoying the sight of a woman performing ablutions, “I trust them so far as I can. I trust them to set sail where I command, to fight, and to seek coin. But even I am not fool enough to believe they don’t plot against me or mine. Aboard this ship only the fiercest survive.”

“Is that why you called me yours?” Her words sounded a little garbled because she’d already begun brushing her teeth. “Like a caveman thing, ‘ug, me man, you mouse, ugh, ugh,’” she spit, poured a cup of water, then swished it around her mouth before spitting again.

“I suppose that makes as much sense as anything else. At our core, we are a brutal lot. Coin, women, liquor, that is what drives us. To keep the best you must be the best. In many ways this is the jungle, eat or be eaten.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Tell me, Hook.” She slipped her hair over her shoulder and then latching onto the zipper on her back, slowly drew it down. Making his blood hum in anticipation. “Have you ever made anyone walk the plank?”

The front of his breeches strained as his cock grew heavy, but he didn’t try to conceal it from her. Grabbing the hem of the dress, she pulled it down her creamy white shoulders.

“Many times,” he said in a voice grown rough.

Cupping her breasts with one arm, so that the gown caught on it and didn’t fall to the ground, she smiled. “And have you ever killed someone?”

Why was she asking him these questions? Not that he minded, not really, but it made him wonder. “Do you believe I could be a pirate and not kill someone, little bird? Are you as naïve as all that? Or do you hope that I’m not truly so wicked? Because I’m quite vile, I can assure you.”

She bit the corner of her lip and moved her arm. The dress puddled at her feet. His breathing hitched and when she shrugged, her breasts lifted enticingly. The red bra strained against the fullness of it. Judging by the sparkle in her eyes, the minx knew exactly what she doing.

He smiled.

“I’m many things, Hook, naïve isn’t one of them. I just like to know the true measure of a person, especially when that person will be sharing my bed.”