“You’re mad.”
“I’m not the one trying to murder somebody,” he points out.
“It’s justice,” I retort, stung by his casual attitude. “You’re a slaver, a rapist. A fiend. You transport children on your despicable ship.”
His eyes narrow. “I take what I need from women. And yes, I’ve had—dealings—with slavers, and I’ve transported children before.”
“So you admit it,” I gasp. “Fuck you.”
The dagger went into his chest easily, so I’m guessing it’s sharp enough to make quick work of this. I charge him, whipping the blade across his throat. A fountain of arterial blood sprays across the bodice of my dress.
I stare down at myself, at the carnage, letting out a faint sob. The most beautiful thing I own is ruined now, and I shouldn’t care about that in this moment but—fuck.
The Pirate Lord chokes, blood spilling from his pretty mouth and running down his chin. But the gash I made in his throat is already closing.
Shit. Oh, shit.
“Whoever hired you knows a few things about me.” The Captain’s voice gurgles through the blood. “They know I’m more vulnerable when I’m aroused. But they don’t have the whole picture.”
The knife dangles from my trembling fingers. I renew my grasp on it, swallowing hard. I can’t fail. Failure means I’ll be imprisoned or hanged. And the people I care about—they’ll perish, too.
The pirate’s eyes light up when I grip the dagger again. “You don’t yield easily.”
“I have to do this.”
“You’ve been promised money, or threatened with harm.” He nods. “But you must understand, you won’t be able to kill me. It’s not possible.”
“What are you?”
“Part god.” He grins.
I don’t think he’s joking.
“You’re going to turn me in to the city watch, aren’t you?” I say faintly.
“I really should. But it seems a pity to let such beauty fester in a cell.” He paces toward me, collaring my throat with his hand. “I’d hate to yield this lovely neck to the hangman’s rope and watch it snap—” he says the word sharply, and when I startle in his grasp, he smiles wider. “I think you could provide greater amusement. I’ll give you a choice, minnow. I can report you, or you can come with me on my ship, tonight. We leave at dawn.”
“Come with you? Why?”
“To escape the wrath of whoever hired you, of course. But I’m not simply offering out of the goodness of my heart—no, I’ve a job in mind for you.”
“A job?”
“Ship’s whore. What else?”
I gape at him.
“You’ll be well paid. I’ll be your primary client, and you can choose whether or not to open your legs to the other men aboard ship. It’s not a bad bargain, considering you must come from—let me guess—” He leans closer, his scent filling my nostrils—blood and wine and coconut soap. “I’d wager fifty rills you’re a dock girl. One they dressed up to tempt me.”
I’m still holding the dagger. I lift it slightly, angling the tip against the folds of his crisp white shirt. Surely there must be a vulnerability somewhere.
“Am I right?” The pirate moves his hand from my throat, his fingers drifting over my cleavage and the blood-spattered bodice of my dress. I hate how my nipples tighten in response. “Are you a poor little dock rat, without friends or family, with no place to go and no one to defend you?”
“Does that make you hard?” I hiss.
He vents a hoarse laugh. “Yes.”
“You like your women weak.”
“I like my women wet.” He reaches down and runs his hand up my leg, sweeping my skirts along with it until he encounters the leather straps cinched around my thigh.
“This is a beautifully-crafted sheath for your weapon. Gifted to you, I think, by your employer.” Higher his hand moves, to the ruffled edge of my panties. “I paid for you, didn’t I? I should get some satisfaction, after you tried to kill me twice. Let’s see if you agree.” His fingertip nudges beneath the edge of the lace.
My fist tenses around the knife. In one swift motion, I raise it and stab him through the eye.
He cries out and staggers away, the blade still lodged in his eye-socket. “Gods-fuck!”
I don’t wait around to see if it worked this time. I run for the door and fumble frantically with the lock.
“The offer stands.” His voice is low and pained, yet thick with angry desire. “My ship, or the noose. Don’t think you can run from me, girl—I have eyes everywhere.”
With a frustrated whimper, I manage to get the door open and rush into the hallway while it swings shut behind me.
I race down the empty hall to the kitchen. Two servants are busy plating delicate tartlets topped with caviar, but although they both look startled, they don’t question me as I fly out the back door.
Hitching up my skirts, I hurry across the narrow courtyard, looking up and down the street.
Ah, there it is! In the shadows beyond a cluster of refuse bins—the carriage of the man in the wolf mask. It’s not far from the lamppost where I was supposed to fasten the red ribbon, a signal that my task was complete.
My employer is waiting to see if I’ve killed the Captain. Too bad I have to disappoint him.
I run for the carriage, nearly slipping on the damp cobblestones. A cold, misting rain has begun—fitting weather for this dreadful night.
I don’t even know what I plan to say to my employer. Shout at him for not telling me what to expect? Beg for his mercy? He said if I failed, I would be on my own. No salvation or rescue from him.
There’s nothing I can give him in return for his help. He owns my body already.
As I approach, the carriage door swings open, and the masked man steps out. He’s gloved and cloaked, with a scarf around his throat. “Stop,” he growls as I race toward him.
I skid to a halt, breathless. “By the gods, sir, I tried, but the Captain has powers—he has magic—”
“Of course he does. So it didn’t work?”
I shake my head frantically.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “They told me the knife was spelled with godsblood. You made sure he was fully erect before you sliced his throat?”
“He was aroused, I promise you—very aroused.”
“Did he bleed? Is that his blood on your dress?”
“I—he—”
A gloved hand slams into my cheekbone, and my head snaps aside with the brutal force of the blow.
“Stop stammering, idiot girl! Speak!”
Pain blooms through my cheek and jaw, and my mouth fills with salty blood. “Yes,” I manage. “He bled.”
“How long did it take him to heal?”
“Only seconds. Maybe a minute.”
“And he let you go?”
“He asked me to leave with him tonight. To be his ship’s whore.”
“He already has a whore aboard ship.” The masked man sounds perplexed. “Why would he want you?”
“I don’t know, sir. I only know what he asked. He said I must sail with him, or he’ll report me and I’ll face the noose for trying to kill him.”