Chapter 12: Earn Your Keep

Thane Drogos The blunt cutlass whistled in the air as it clashed with Gunner's. While I preferred hand-to-hand, this was great practice. Sparring with cutlasses had me relying on dexterity more than strength. Gunner was a formidable opponent. Our weapons expert knew his way around the sword just as well as a cannon. Desmond hates sleeping in the crew's quarters, one reason being that he sleeps in. No sunlight will come through the windows, and he'll sleep away the whole day. So, Gunner was the victim of choice today. Frankly, it didn't matter the method, sparring was a great way to get all this pent-up irritation out. Our cutlasses crashed again, sliding and screeched as we met each other hit for hit. I tried to put the events last night out of my mind. As far as I was concerned, it never happened. Not me pleasuring myself while Evelyn used me for herself. Never happened. But, fuck, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Listening to her. Wanting to be the one on my knees in front of her. Pretend for a moment she wasn't off limits. That we were just two people seeking release. Have her in the dark. Maybe if I didn't have to see her, I could pretend I didn't know who Evelyn was all I wanted. Let myself indulge what she would offer. That wasn't even the most confusing part of the night. At one point, Evelyn awoke with a scream, tears streaming down her face with terror. It took me a few moments of blinking through bleary eyes to realize she was having a night terror. I wasn't a stranger to them. After the insurrection, I had them frequently. My mother did too, even if she pretended not to. Eventually, they stopped, but that blind panic was familiar. Evelyn hyperventilated, looking from side to side, in a foreign place. I reached over to her, smoothing my hands down her quaking arms. I shushed her, murmuring it was okay. Everything would be okay. That she was safe. Slowly, I could feel the crashing of her heart slow down. Her breathing evened out. I guided her back down to the pillows, whispering those sweet comforting words into the side of her neck, my nose pressed against her pulse point. She fell back asleep in my arms. I couldn't help myself as I breathed in, inhaling her scent. It must have been the ambiance, but I felt my entire body settle, the sounds of Evelyn's breathing comforting me. Her lithe form fit perfectly against mine. She made this soft, sweet little whimper and tossed, rolling against me so her front settled against mine, her face buried against the crook of my arm. "You smell nice," she mumbled, snuggling even closer. I didn't reply, her body rising and falling in blissful sleep. I wanted to wake her. Push her to the other side of the bed. Flip over so she couldn't find comfort in my arms. But I didn't. My heart twisted in my chest, jumping in a way I didn't think it could. I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember waking up. I was still in the same position, on my side, arm under Evelyn's head. Evelyn star-fished on her stomach, her leg curled over my hips, half of her draped over me. For something so little, she certainly took up a lot of space. Her hair tangled all over the pillows, head tilted back. She looked relaxed and blissful. A small puddle of drool next to her parted lips. With every breath, she released a small wheeze. Sun-kissed cheeks lightly flushed. A smattering of freckles all over her nose. Everything about her seemed delicate. Like she'd break under my hands. Too soft. Too small. Too fucking beautiful. My eyes widened, and I rolled Evelyn off of me. She barely stirred, but as soon as I got out of bed, she replaced my spot and nuzzled my pillow. My pulse jumped. This has nothing to do with you, Thane. I told myself. She's just a cuddler. It was too confusing. But my cock wasn't confused at all. Suddenly, Gunner shoved me backward with his wrist. Twisting in a calculated move, the tip of his blunted cutlass slid past my fingers and disarmed me. He kicked the blade up with his foot, catching it mid-air. Shit. I tried to snap back into it, grab my weapon, but it was too late. He drew the cutlass to my throat, ending the spar. "You alright, Cap? You seem to be elsewhere today," Gunner stated, giving both cutlasses a talented swipe before passing mine back to me. I caught the handle in mid-air. "Fine, Gunner." "You don't seem fine," he continued, handing his cutlass to the next man who wanted to spar. I passed mine off to the next opponent as well. "Here," Gunner swiped a towel from the deck, tossing it to me. "I'm fine," I repeated, catching the fabric to pat my forehead. "Is this about Evie?" Gunner asked inquisitively. A pang of jealousy spiked in my chest. Evie? Why is everyone calling her Evie? "I heard you had to share quarters with her yesterday. She snores," he remarked casually. I wanted to say more like wheezes, but I said, "And how do you know that?" Even I realized the bite in my tone was unusual. Gunner blinked at the brashness in my words. "Rio complains… a lot." He steps away from the ring where the next sparring match is starting. "How long have we been friends, Cap?" I crossed my arms. "Twelve years." "Yes, in fact, I believe that I was your first recruit when you became Cap'n. Worked my way up from cabin boy to artillery," he mused. He became such an expert of the armory that he gained the moniker, "Gunner." While Gunner was my first recruit, it wasn't because he sought the Sea Serpent but because he was being smuggled under a merchant ship. Trafficked for gold. When I found out what the ship was doing, I killed the captain and released the people trapped underneath. Dropped them off at the nearest colony. Gunner stayed. "I remember. What's your point?" He laughed, rolling his eyes. He wiped a bead of sweat off with his towel. "In the twelve years we've been friends, I've never seen something get under your skin like this." I didn't reply, my lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn't wrong. Ever since I first laid eyes on Evelyn, I've been acting out of character. Rashly. Without thinking things through. "We don't dock for a few more days. If you want someone to talk to, that isn't Desmond, I have two ears," he offered, slinging the towel over his shoulder. "But if I were to bet on it, your frustration is linked to a certain princess who sits there while the cabin boy is trying to swab the deck under her feet." My eyes shot over to Evelyn, sitting in one of the few shaded spots on deck. She had one of my books in her hand, happily reading while the men around her worked their asses off. One of the cabin boys was scrubbing the floor under her feet while she didn't seem to notice him. Not at all concerned with the tough work keeping this ship sailing. That didn't sit well with me. Even my mother had to earn her keep doing grunt work, sludge under her nails. The former queen used to scrub fish guts off the deck with the crown prince. The captain then knew who we were and made us swab back and forth with a scrub brush until our hands were raw. I went to sleep that night with welts on my fingers, blisters on my knees, and tears in my eyes. My mother would put salve on my knees and tell me we bear the storm because it won't last forever. So, I wiped my tears, and we swallowed our pride and did it anyway. It wasn't about status; it was about survival. So seeing this princess, who's never lifted a finger in her life, lording over hard-working men because she thought she was above it? Everyone earned their keep here. Even her. Without another word, I left Gunner, grabbed the mop bucket from one of the cabin boys. The young sailor jumped at my sudden appearance but said nothing as I stalked over to Evelyn. The small woman had her feet up on a crate, reading eagerly, flipping through the pages as if she got to an exciting moment in the book. I would have found it cute. The way her eyes widened slightly, her breath kicking up with every turn of the page. I shooed the cabin boy by her feet, and he got out of my way with a dutiful salute. Evelyn didn't notice the exchange. She didn't even notice me until I dropped the bucket by her feet and snatched the book right out of her hands. "Excuse me?" Evelyn asked, her eyes narrowing. "You said that I could borrow your books!" "That's not the problem, princess," I replied, setting the book on a barrel. She got up, crossing her arm with a little stomp. Brat. "Then what is the problem?" she complained, trying to reach past me to get the book. "I was in the middle of a good part." I stepped right in her way. "I want you to look around. What is the difference between you and my men?" "Um… I'm a woman?" she said, her tone incredibly dry. "It's come to my attention that you don't know how this works," I started, blocking her from reaching for the book again. She glared up at me, her wide brown eyes anything but intimidating. No one would take her seriously with a face like that. "I know how this works. I'm a prisoner. You kidnapped me. So I'm reading to pass the time before I go home." I ignored the remark. "There is no hierarchy here, princess. Everyone here is equal with their own respective jobs. They all get an equal share, and they all pull their weight. What are you doing to pull your weight?" Evelyn gave me the brattiest little scoff but didn't reply. "You want to earn your keep? Stay out of the brig? Work for it," I dropped a mop into her hands. She gaped. "No. I'm not doing this!" "Why not?" I tilted my head to the side, looking down my nose into her doe eyes. She glared right back. "Are you above hard labor, sweetheart? You probably don't even know how to use a mop." She knew I was baiting her, but was too prideful to back down. I watched as she dunked the mop, getting sudsy water everywhere before swirling it back and forth. She did this while staring up at me. "Va te faire enculer," she hissed under her breath. Go fuck yourself. Very creative, Evelyn. The French insult sent my men cackling at her indignation. Can't have any of that. Sorry, sweetheart, you get to be the example. I hummed, pressing my finger to my chin thoughtfully. "Actually, mops aren't quite thorough enough." I gestured for the by-standing cabin boy to hand me his scrub brush. I yanked the mop from Evelyn's hand and replaced it with the filthy scrubber. "Use this. I want the deck shiny when you're done." She gaped in pure disbelief, and the expression nearly made me smile. I'm going to save that look on her face and tuck it in my back pocket for a rainy day. Evelyn was usually too smart for her own good, firing back with a retort that would make any sailor blush. But she was speechless. For once, I felt victorious watching Evelyn's cheeks turn pink, this time with unabated annoyance instead of embarrassment. I leaned down, close enough my breath fanned over her beautifully flushed face. "What're you waiting for? Get to your knees and get to work."