The irony of it twisted my gut. Here I was, second in command of the most notorious pirate ship in the skies, and I couldn’t even guarantee my own leg would work from one hour to the next.
I ran a hand down my face, disgusted by my self-pity. Poor Maximus Blackwood, crying over his broken parts while Bobby’s corpse cooled on deck. While Ghost bled from wounds that would scar, all because he snuck onto the wrong ship.
“Pull yourself together,” I growled at the empty cabin. The Reaper didn’t have time for this pathetic wallowing. The crew needed their fearsome first mate, not this bitter shell nursing old wounds.
I reattached the prosthetic and pushed to my feet. The Reaper had bodies to deal with and a crew to terrorize.
Perhaps though, first, I should ensure that Ghost’s organization of loot in the cargo hold was up to scratch. After all, you couldn’t trust a stowaway to properly catalogue stolen goods. Plus, I wasn’t sure he knew about the secret compartment behind the engine room where we kept any valuables we needed to hide from Imperial inspections at port.
Yes, supervision was certainly in order, because proper inventory management was vital to a successful pirating operation.
Nothing to do with watching those capable hands at work. Nothing to do with those sparkling green eyes, nor the freckles dancing across on his skin.
No, definitely nothing to do with the way his horizon-wide smile made my stomach swoop like an airship caught in a downdraft—the kind that leaves you breathless, terrified, and desperate for more.
7
Kaspar
Today had been… a lot, to say the least. Knowing I was on a pirate ship and actually seeing it in action were two very different things. Even though there were some people on this ship who I’d rather not spend any time with, I’d been able to ignore the whole pirate thing.
But now I’d seen them actually raid another ship.
Not only seen it, but participated in it myself.
I helped them.
Holy dragon balls, I’d helped pirates raid another ship.
Did that… did that meanIwas a pirate too?
Oh my goddesses, I was a pirate.
Holy unicorn horns, I was a fucking pirate.
The thought made me want to curl up in a ball underneath a blanket and never come out.
What would Kayla and Cody think if they found out I was a pirate?
What would they think if they knew I’d killed someone?
I. Killed. Someone.
Guilt was a familiar friend in my chest, making it tight with grief and anxiety. If I didn’t try to get it out, it would eat me alive.
But I had no idea how to make it go away.
With a grimace, I set the last box in the correct spot and turned around, ready to eat dinner and relax for the rest of the evening—after I finished my other chores.
Reaper already told me I didn’t have to scrub the deck today, thank goodness, but the after-dinner dishes would need to be washed, so I’d probably be awake for hours yet.
My eyes scanned the area near the ladder, searching for Reaper, but he was nowhere to be found. Surprising, considering he’d come down here to make sure I was organizing things correctly so many times, I’d lost count.
He hadn’t been unkind. It was just strange to have the first mate micromanage me like that. But… I hadn’t really minded. I mean, why would I when it meant I had such a sexy view any time I faced the ladder where he’d sat.
I’d known he was there every time without even looking because I could feel his prosthetic’s fluxstones. Fluxstones called to me, they always had, whether they were full or completely empty. But when low, it felt as if they were begging for my magic, begging me to fill them to the brim with power. Every time a fluxstone was low or out of power on this ship, I felt it and could tell exactly where it was and how big the stone was.
It was kind of frustrating because I really wanted to fill them with my magic—in fact, it was starting to feel like my magic was ready to burst out of me—but I couldn’t.
