reach it. His quiet, towering presence intimidated me sometimes. I respected that. It meant he intimidated our enemies, too.
“What about the other one in irons?” He crossed his arms.
“What other one?” I dropped my hand.
“Your mate in the bilge.” He winged up a brow. “When will you save him?”
My breath stilled.
Jobah had been with me throughout my courtship, marriage, and fallout with the king of libertines. Along the way, he and Priest had formed a staunch friendship.
“He doesn’t need saving.” My tone turned icy. “If you intend to free him—”
“I will not interfere. But I’ll tell you this.” He leaned in. “Hear him. Listen.”
“I do, Jobah. He speaks in lies and manipulations.”
“Listen to what he’s not saying.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you know? Did he tell you—?”
“I visited him this morning.” He held up his hands. “But if I knew his secrets, you would, too. You have my loyalty, Captain.”
I nodded, trusting him implicitly.
“Whatever you have planned for him, be gentle.” Jobah straightened, his expression somber. “Hurting you has already caused him the greatest pain.”
Every surface of Jade was lifted, scoured, and replaced until my hands and nerves were chafed raw. Planks, doors, walls, ladders, sails, clothing… Even bodies. Every man on board was subjected to a thorough inspection by myself or Reynolds.
The compass remained hidden.
Days bled into a week, and I lost myself in the search, so I might forget the real reason my boots carried me down to the bilge every morning.
My longing for Priest refused to abate.
I tried to heed Jobah’s advice and listen to what Priest didn’t say with words. But every visit yielded the same as the first. He glared in brooding silence. I analyzed every twitch. He demanded my fidelity. I repeated my threats. We argued. He roared, and I left.
I refrained from torture or fornication—with him or anyone else. I tried gentle.
“Gentle doesn’t work with Priest.” I stood alone in my cabin, naked and resolved. “He leaves me no choice.”
I grabbed a peeled orange from the desk, held it to my chest, and squeezed. The juices sluiced down my breasts, and I caught the sticky rivers, rubbing nectar into my skin from shoulders to waist.
With my torso bathed in the fruit, I donned Priest’s shirt. The white one with leather laces he’d left in my cabin a week ago. It hung to my knees and still smelled like him—dark, musky, sinful. But not for long.
From a small sea chest, I removed a bottle of odoriferous water I’d bought from an apothecary some months ago. Removing the cork, I doused my hands and ran them over the shirt. The aroma of clove oil, rosemary, and cinnamon reached my nose, subtle yet strong enough to dilute the scent of orange.
That done, I scrubbed my hands until every trace of pulp was removed from my fingers and nails. Then I made my way to Priest.
At the hatchway to the bilge, I paused, breathed deeply, and gathered my strength.
Yesterday I left him seething with the uncertainty of whether I would return or who I might return with. If my visit today didn’t produce the compass, I would have no choice but to come back with a crewmate and make good on my pledge to fuck another. Probably Reynolds.
But I couldn’t think about that right now. Couldn’t let myself get dragged into the anguish of doing something so shitten.
I needed this to work. If I angered Priest badly enough, he would surrender what I needed and be finished with me.
I can do this.
Cold, hard purpose soaked into my muscles, immersing the panic as I opened the hatch and descended. At the bottom of the ladder, I stood tall and turned slowly.
His silvery gaze grabbed me from across the dim space, arrowing in on his shirt. I wore nothing beneath the white linen, and though it wasn’t transparent, it didn’t hide the shape of my nipples or the curves of my form. His gaze feasted on every dip, lowered to where the fabric brushed my knees, and rose to my eyes.
My heart thundered uncomfortably as we stared at each other.
I felt it then, had prepared myself for it—the mysterious, knee-weakening alchemy that simmered in the air between us.
His beautiful face beckoned, the cast of his hard jaw and chiseled mouth exquisite in the flickering shadows. His bare chest flexed with slabs of muscle, his arms straining with enough power to steady two heavy matchlock guns. Or the weight of my body as he pounded me against the wall.