Chapter 2: Old Wounds

Thane Drogos -An Hour earlier- If I had known the contract was in Avalon, I wouldn't have fucking taken it. I avoided the capital at all costs. Not only were they not hospitable to pirates, but I never wanted to come back to relive the night that my entire life had changed. As Jack dropped anchor, tying up alongside the dock, I stared up at the castle. A flash of a buried memory flickered across my eyes. My mother, royal robes torn, crown forgotten, grasping my arm. I had never seen her so panicked. Feral with instinct, she could not shift due to the tonic slipped to her at dinner. She dragged me behind her through the tunnels to escape the slaughter of my cousins above. I could hear the screaming. Five years old, listening to the wails cut short. I could still smell the blood. Feel the way it stuck under my fingernails. I shoved the thought away, burying it in the depths of my mind, but the old wound was already open. I grit my teeth hard as a hand came up to my shoulder. He squeezed once, directing my gaze down a few inches. "Are you okay?" Desmond, my first mate, asked. If it weren't for his father, my mother and I would never have gotten out. He was well aware of how deep my distaste for Avalon was. I shrugged his hand off. "Keep everyone on board. I want off this fucking island as soon as possible." Desmond nodded once. "Heard." The moon was full, and I debated whether to tell the crew to hunker down for the night. Sirens were especially hungry during the moon. More likely to scale the side of the boat and fly above for a bite. But I would rather face a siren than a Stanton rat. Heat buzzed within my veins, rage bubbling like a cauldron of wicked poultice. I ignored it. Get the job done. My forehead was damp, whether from sweat or seawater remained to be seen. I took off my hat, shaking the salt from it before returning it to the top of my head. I angled it downward, shadowing my blue eyes. After twenty-seven years, it was safer to be seen. Many seemed to have forgotten the characteristics of Drogos's eyes. My elusive nature only added to the rumors. Reputation was everything on the high seas. The Drunken Sturgeon wasn't far. Located in prime real estate for weary, thirsty travelers. Normally, Desmond would be the one to close deals, but he gets rather chatty after a drink or two. I wasn't in the mood to wait around while he flirted with everything that had a pulse, leaving me to close this deal. I wasn't as charming as Des, but I was far more threatening. Her name was Emily, the barmaid I sought. She was interested in my… unique goods. Not stolen. No, of course not. One hand on my cutlass, I sauntered in. Instantly, everyone fell silent, eyes on me. Hushed chatter. No doubt rumors. Tall tales were probably not so tall. Nonetheless, my appearance off my ship was unusual. That meant I was serious about business. Spotting Emily easily, I noticed a small woman staring at me. Shiny, unscratched golden bangles on her arms. Neat, immaculate robes on top of a petticoat. A green silk cape, and hood attempting to cover soft curls. Like she was trying to stay under the radar. Naive. Her wide brown eyes seemed like they were always curious. Her cheeks were tinted pink, a smattering of golden-brown freckles kissing her skin. An obviously wealthy woman like her was just asking for trouble. What was a pretty little thing like that doing in a place like this? As her lips parted only slightly, I wondered if she would keep that doe-eyed look if I knelt between her thighs. How she would tremble beneath my hands as I told her to part them for me. Was she as much of a prude as she looked? Or would she crumble at the first sign of someone telling her what to do? I couldn't entertain those thoughts. Not now. This trip was business, not pleasure. As much as the idea of fucking a noblewoman aroused me, I'd have to save those fantasies for tonight as I imagined how her eyes would widen even further while I tasted her. My lips pulled into a crooked grin, unable to repress the thought of tearing open her corset just to see her try to cover herself up. See if her cheeks bloomed with shame or desire. I looked up at Emily, past the doe-eyed woman's sweet-looking face, signaling for her to meet me at the corner booth. The petite noblewoman turned from me to talk to some of the drunken patrons next to her. What a shame. I rather liked the way her eyes roamed over me. The barmaid broke my gaze, coming to sit in front of me. "Captain. I wasn't expecting you," she greeted. "Emily," I said plainly. "Sit. Let's do business." She sat, crossing her arms. "Can I get you a drink?" I flashed her a crooked smile. "That would be great." A few glasses of rum later, Emily and I came to an agreement. She drove a hard bargain, and it might have been the booze, but I was more agreeable than I normally would have been. But considering the increase in random searches and tightening of the guard, it seemed to be fair. "I'll have my men deliver your fee and collect the cargo," Emily agreed, throwing back the remainder of her drink. I met her eyes. "Tonight. I don't want to stay in port any longer than I must." "Fine. You won't be able to leave the harbor if the guard catches you. Pleasure doing business." She got up, disappearing to the back while I finished my drink. Finally, I could get off this damn rock and back to the sea. My eyes were drawn back to that green silk robe. She stood up, stumbling like she was drunk. A man caught her before she fell, clearly wanting something from her. The notion caused an irritable rage to slowly bubble inside me. There was something about him touching her that I didn't like, and as the man ignored her obvious disinterest I became angrier. Her bright eyes gleamed, visible terror, but no one to help her. She looked around, but she might as well have been a lamb in the lion's den. Adorned with silk and gold among thieves, she was a bad situation waiting to happen. It's not your problem. The deal is done. Go back to your ship. "Please, sir, that won't be necessary," the noblewoman could barely whisper. She was terrified. "I think it is," the man replied, dragging her from the tavern into the night. Two other men stood from their seats and followed them out, but I have the sneaking suspicion it wasn't to help her. My hand tightened over my cutlass, something about damsels in distress. It was against my nature to ignore them. I ran my tongue across my teeth, furrowing my brow as I decided to walk out the double doors and follow the sound of cruel laughter and muffled struggles. "We'll take the gold when we're finished with you, pretty," a man's nasally voice said. I could practically hear the hammering of her heart. The panting panic in her breath. A defenseless woman cornered by three men. The elegant silk threads were covered in muck. The smooth, clean palms of her hands were now scraped and coated in dirt. I stepped down the alleyway, nostrils flaring at the scent of fear. "Come on, don't fight. Be a good girl." My lips pulled back, my hand finding my cutlass. Just as I was about to say something, the woman's head reared back, and she shouted, "Fuck you!" Her head came forward hard, knocking into his. This passionate roar fizzled up from her throat as her little fists came up, hitting and fighting. Spitting. But the man was rough, another laughing about how much fun it is when they fight. If I wasn't already angry, watching the way they gripped her hard enough to bruise her arms pissed me off to no end as I gritted my teeth, a newfound hatred brewing inside me. Hatred aching to teach them a lesson. The dragon within me twisted, releasing a growl from my lips. The beast longed to pull the petite doe-eyed woman behind me. To protect her from anyone who would try to harm her. I couldn't fucking help it. It was just who I was. One of the men reached down for their knife, and I shouted, authority clear in my voice, "Is that any way to treat a lady?" Instantly, the men scattered, hands leaving the small woman as she veered backward, hitting the wall. Her eyes shot up to me, tears glimmering, streaking through the dust as she slid against the wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly, straining against her corset. That look could bring a man to his knees. Luckily, I wasn't just a man. I drew my cutlass, pulling it from the scabbard, the steel releasing a high-pitched whistle as it met the moonlight. I looked down my nose, towering over the men, using my physical size to intimidate them. "We weren't doing anything! Don't be rash," the man grabbing her hard enough to leave bruises said. Gaunt face. Two seconds from meeting the Reaper if he wasn't smart enough to run. But men like him were rarely ever smart. "It didn't look like nothing." My voice was a low, gravelly rumble. With both hands up, he backed away from her. "We'll leave. Let's not do anything we'll regret." Slowly, a smile pulled at the corner of my lips. "Oh. I never regret anything." That was enough for them to drop everything and run, sprinting down the alleyway in my opposite direction like the cowards they were. I slid my cutlass back into its rightful place, taking calculated steps toward the noblewoman. I held out a hand. "Are you all right, sweetheart?" Timidly, she took it, accepting my help to bring her to her feet. Her hood fell from her head, and the dark brown ringlets mussed from her fight. She was quite the petite little thing, her shoulders still trembling. She seemed to struggle to find her voice, gulping back frightened tears. "Y-yes, thank you," she finally said, cheeks turning rosy as she looked up at me. Her eyes met mine, and there was something so electric about her. "Well, those didn't turn me to stone." "My eyes?" I asked, my tongue curling behind my teeth in amusement. I had heard the rumors. Most of them were horseshit. Somehow her eyes became more round, this time in visible embarrassment. Her blush deepened further, and I was met with the desire to cup her face in my hand and see just how warm her skin was. I wanted to run my thumb along her lower lip, all pink. I resisted, still captivated by the curious wonderment in her eyes. "Don't believe everything you're told," I murmured, drawing away from the small woman. I turned, about to take off toward my ship. "Wait!" she pleaded. I paused. "There's got to be something I can do to say thank you," she continued. I turned on my heel, noticing how she opened her purse, digging for coins. One of my big hands closed over her delicate ones. "Free of charge, sweetheart. Next time I find you needing my help, you won't be so lucky. I may ask for a kiss." I tilted my head to the side, the silkiness of my tongue aiding in her nervous demeanor. Her lips parted slightly, so I could just barely see her tongue peeking from the subtle gap in her teeth. I took a step away from her, finding myself drinking in her loveliness. Too lovely for me. Leave, Thane. I thought to myself. Turn around and leave. The job is done. Her cape wooshed as she slowly lowered her coin purse, not once breaking eye contact with me. She reached up to her cape and unpinned a broach hidden beneath the layers. As I turned, she tucked the weighty trinket into my palm. "Something to remember me by," she replied breathily, brushing her ringlets over her shoulder. Amused, I glanced at the item, but just as I did, the darkness I carried inside began to seep through. The smile fell from my lips. The Stanton Coat of Arms. A carving of a barracuda in gold. Teeth as sharp as the blades they used to cut through my family. "You're a member of the House of Stanton?" I asked. My tone was cool. Calmer than I felt. She noticed my change in temperament immediately. The rattling of the tail before the strike. "Y-yes…" she answered, unsure of my reaction. "I know you said that you didn't need payment, but I…just thought it would be a nice way to thank you." Oh, you sweet, naive little girl. "Don't thank me yet, sweetheart." I pulled my gaze from the trinket to hers. She blinked rapidly and tried to take a step back, but my hand slid to the small of her back pressing her against my body as I thought over how lucky I must be to have fate on my side. You're not going anywhere. A flash of memories bombarded me again as I tried to imagine what I was going to do with what fate gave me. The gravity of what happened to us for twenty-seven years had haunted me for so long. All because the fucking Stantons were greedy bastards. Staring down at the doe-eyed woman, my arm tight around her. What happened next was a lapse in judgment. The sweetness of her face didn't stop the way I saw red. I didn't think. I just acted. If Stanton thought he could take what was mine, I was going to repay the favor. "You should have just walked away, sweetheart."