Chapter 8: A Day at Sea

Thane Drogos "Had enough?" I asked, an arm around Desmond's throat. My first mate bared down, knocking me off and rolling me onto the deck. He bounced back to his feet, bringing one hand to wipe the blood from his nose. He laughed. "You know me. I don't know when to quit." I sprang up to my feet, blocking one of his punches easily. The crewmen gathered around the ring. Tossed coins for their bets. The men preferred hand-to-hand combat as it made a great pastime during long voyages. Occasionally, the blunted cutlasses came out to play. The sun beamed down on Desmond and I as we tousled, throwing blows at one another. We were only clad in our pants, shirts discarded. Much more difficult to tear pants and I wasn't in the mood to sew up the cotton of my shirt. Like good friends, we never pulled punches. Even the time I knocked a tooth out of his mouth for considering leaving his wife. As much as Des flirted, he devoted himself to that woman. So much so he considered leaving her to protect her, knowing perfectly well Bells picked this life too. It's safe to say I knocked some sense back into him. Two kids later and he happily shows off the gap where his tooth was. Behind the hooting crew members, I noticed Evelyn standing with Rio. She was pointing down the side of the boat where the anchor was, probably asking how it worked. Desmond had told me all about her interest in the ship's functions. And how she lit up like a firefly when she saw Penny. I didn't tell Desmond I almost kissed her. What came over me? She stood there, still dressed in my shirt, wearing leather pants and shoes that seemed to suit her so much more than gowns. She glared up at me, her eyes determined and boring into mine. Arms crossed. Lower lip pouted. Evelyn looked like such a brat. I wanted nothing more than to shut her up with a kiss. I was torn over whether she would hit me or kiss me back. Either option worked for me. I wanted to know what her pout tasted like, tilt her head up so she would open for me as I devoured her spiteful little mouth. The underside of her jaw felt velvety soft against my fingertips. Made me wonder what other parts of her were velvety soft. Perhaps even softer. But she's a Stanton. The murderers of dragons. Her family would actively hunt and slaughter mine if they thought we survived. I couldn't do that to my mother. Hell, even my crew would hang for assisting us. Fucking her was a terrible idea, even if my entire body craved hers. I needed to put as much space between us as possible. Evelyn was my mistake, so she was my responsibility. Sparring distracted me. So did practicing piano in my cabin. Nothing gave me greater joy than playing piano and hearing my crew sing sea shanties in tune with my melody. My favorite part of the evening. But even later that evening, my bed felt cold, and I'd imagine a certain doe-eyed princess warming it. Leather restraints cuffing her to the headboard. I frequently wondered how she would sound. If the symphony of her cries would make the sweetest music. Evelyn Staton was the object of my fantasies. And it only got worse when I noticed her looking over at me while I sparred. Her gaze would drink in my bare chest, and her cheeks would flush like she had never seen a man before. Was I the object of her fantasies? I wished I was just as much as I wished I wasn't. Thankfully, I wouldn't have much spare time to ponder as we sailed closer to safehold. Should be home in less than a week now. And I still didn't know what to do with Evelyn. She had been bunking with my mother and Rio. Good hands. Rio reported to Desmond with a new update every morning, and Evelyn's extensive knowledge of profanity somehow got longer every time she mentioned me. I couldn't decide if that annoyed or amused me. That was a lie. It amused me greatly. I wish it annoyed me. While she had free rein of the ship, I made sure she always had a designated chaperone. At this point, I wasn't concerned she'd try to escape. I had newer crewmen I didn't completely trust yet. And a pretty little thing like Evelyn needed a companion. I dodged another one of Desmond's attacks, catching his leg and throwing him backwards. He grunted and collided with the wooden slats. With one quick movement, I pinned him down, leg wound around his. Arm tucked under mine. No way he could get out of this one. "No shame in tapping, Des," I said playfully. He struggled a little bit longer against my hold, so I tightened my arm around his throat ever so slightly. He growled in annoyance before smacking my arm incessantly. I laughed, releasing him. He flopped over to the side, coughing and gasping. I held my hand, pulling him up to his feet. Gunner clapped his hands together, acting as bookie for our fights. "Aight, who bet on Cap? Come get your keep!" Under his breath, Desmond grumbles something incoherent about hating my chokehold. But I wasn't listening to him. Behind him, Evelyn's doe-eyed gaze slipped over to me. Again. Her eyes slipped down my chest, taking in the dragon tattoo coiled around my arm a few times before trailing across my back. A massive piece. But it added to the mystery. So many stories and theories about my tattoo. Some say my tattoo came alive to protect the crew during the attack. Others say my tattoo was for worship to a dragon deity. Many just assumed it was a masterful piece a crew member gave me. In reality, the tattoo embodied my dragon form. When I became old enough to shift, the tattoo appeared, branding me forever. Her eyes trailed upwards, meeting mine. Instantly, she averts her gaze, her cheeks turning so rosy the tips of her ears were pink. Gunner threw me a towel, and I caught it, my gaze not leaving Evelyn as I pat the sweat on my forehead. Reluctantly, I tear my eyes from her back to Desmond, and gesture for him to follow me back to my cabin. "Do you think Rio and Doc have patched that leak yet?" Desmond draped his towel over his shoulders. "Fuck, I hope so. I don't want to sleep in the crew's quarters." The sky remained cloudless like we didn't just sail through pouring rain. Desmond's words hit me again. Rio and my mother bunked in the lady's cabin, next to Desmond's. I opened the door to my quarters and Des closed it behind him. I asked, "How's the lady's cabin?" "Last time I checked, still flooded. If we can't get it patched, then they'll have to sleep in the crew's quarters too. It shouldn't be a big deal. We've done it before," Desmond replied with a nonchalant shrug. The next words fell from my mouth before I could stop them. "I don't want Evelyn sleeping in the crew's quarters." My first mate's eyes widened. "Right. I forgot about her. It's probably not safe for her in the crew's quarters. I can't watch her if I'm asleep. Where should we put her tonight?" "If it's not cleared out, send her to my cabin," I decided. The cynicism was clear on his face, but he held his tongue. "What?" I wanted him to speak his mind in private. We didn't develop such a close friendship by pulling punches. "I need to know," he started. "Are you sure there's nothing between you and the princess? I've noticed how you stare at her. I can find alternative quarters… somewhere… if you can't keep your hands to yourself. She's a lady." "And I'm a gentleman, Desmond." He chuckled. "No. You're a scoundrel." I returned his laugh. "Fine. I would sooner touch a bilge rat. If that wasn't enough, my mother would kill me." "There's the real reason. Mama's boy." "I can knock out another one of your teeth if you keep it up." Desmond threw up his hands in defense. "Aye. Aye. Captain. Send the princess here if our quarters are still flooded tonight." "Good. You're dismissed." Desmond chuckled again when he left, closing the door behind him. We taped the window beside the door over with tapestry where Evelyn had broken it. I sighed, stepping towards a private back room where I had access to our filtered fresh water. We didn't have much, so I made do and cleaned myself up, conserving water the best I could. After dressing in some clean clothes, I settled behind my desk, pulling my journal from a concealed drawer. I dipped my quill once and dated the next free page. Journalling kept me sane overseas. I document my hobbies, meals, and tasks. It gave me a feeling of stability. A sense of when the days end and begin. Otherwise, they would run together. I dipped into my inkwell as necessary, concluding the page with details of my goals for the next day. Once I finished, I slid the journal back into my desk. Most of the crew was illiterate. Education was a commodity most in this lifestyle couldn't afford. My mother ensured I could read and write. Several languages. So when Evelyn grumbled insults in Spanish, French or Italian, I knew exactly what she was saying. It helped when conversing with other pirates in remote colonies. Most of them spoke French. Kept us from being double-crossed. I reached behind me to one of my books. One of my favorites was about a man, framed for a crime, while his friend helped himself to the man's riches, and his wife. I could read it over and over again. I never tired of it. Many hours were lost with my nose buried in it, inhaling the aged parchment while I daydreamed. I was looking forward to it. I opened the book where I last left the story, dipping my head down to smell the pages. The sun got low in the sky and I was sure to watch the sunset from my rear windows from over my book. The sky became a watercolor painting of color morphing from blue to red. Deep oranges. Absolutely beautiful. I bet Evelyn had seen nothing like that before. Holed up in that castle. She had told me she was at that tavern for a drink, but I didn't believe her. I mulled over our conversation repeatedly, wondering what else I could have asked to get a better answer from her. I wanted to know why she'd leave her castle to go to a shitty port-side tavern. God, she was like an earworm. Finding her way back into my head once I thought I'd gotten her out of my system. I snapped the book shut, turning to my piano. I opened the fallboard, the keys worn. The strings were rusty because of the humid salinity in the air, but I took good care of it. I played, my fingertips flying across the keys in an upbeat melody. Slowly, the voices of men rose from the lower deck. As I continued to play, my lips curled into a smile, letting the music take me away. My fingers moved faster, pressing the keys, gliding across the different octaves. The sun finally set and I could see the stars illuminating the water. I kept practicing, playing vigorously to keep myself in tune as well. I reached the bridge of my melody, increasing to the crescendo. Suddenly, there was a knock. I slowed my playing, but I didn't stop. "Come in!" I called over my keys, not wanting to lose my tempo. Desmond stepped into my cabin, Evelyn behind him. Shit.