Click.
The reality of the situation crashes in, and I close my eyes against the useless flush of . . . frustration? Disappointment? In myself, mostly, for not anticipating the outcome.
The manacle on my wrist is cold. He holds the other in a hand, making a motion like I should get on the bed. “Sit.”
“Are you serious?” I thought we were past this.
He smiles, but his eyebrows pinch together. “Did you think I’d sleep in the same room as one of you without taking precautions?”
He already knows I can get out of the manacles, but I’m not drawing attention to it. I’m sure he thinks Tavi would have relieved me of any tools or picks while I washed this morning.
He still waits for me to move.
“I wouldn’t kill you while you were sleeping,” I say, more earnest than I’ve been in over a decade. “I’d rather test myself against you while you were awake.”
He chuckles, and tugs me closer to the headboard by one manacled wrist. “Who knew therewas so much honour”—the manacles snap around a chain that’s bolted to the headboard, one that wasn’t there this morning—“in pirates.”
The length gives me little choice but to sit.Ass.
“So is this your plan? Chain me to your bed each night until we’re done with the map?” The words alone threaten to make me laugh but I hold it back, pretend I’m not considering the duality of their implications.
Without warning, he lifts his shirt up over his head and tosses it on the desk. The shadows don’t hide the rippled muscles of his torso, and heat blazes through me from head to toe, only remembering to look away when he sits to unlace his boots. “It’s for your safety.”
The words take a moment to settle in, since the sudden image of my legs wrapped around the V of his waist is impossible to banish. I can’t look at him, but I can’t look away. Maybe he won’t notice the way my entire body has flushed in the dark. I should lay down and hide beneath the blanket, but the room is too warm now.
Mercifully, he leaves his bottoms on, then, even though the chair is tucked firmly against it, locks the door, making a point to stash the keys in a hidden pocket on the inside of his pants. “Don’t want you running away again.”
“Then why’d you give me a head start?” We both know the answer. He wanted to prove there was no hope of escaping in the most humiliating way possible.
It was fun though, a little voice in my head whispers.
He shrugs and slouches into the velvet chair, unrolling the blanket over his lower half. “A ship doesn’t offer much in the way of space. I wanted to stretch my legs.”
I roll my eyes and lay down, turning my body away from him. After a while, the cadence of his breathing evens out. I turn slowly, half expecting him to be watching me, but his eyes are closed, and his face is relaxed. In the quiet, I study him. He’s definitely older than me, but not by too much. His lips are pouty when they aren’t stretched in a smile—which happens surprisingly often. He’s so different from the other captains I’ve met, and I’ve met a few. Ivor would make a game of hunting them down and strongarming them into “mutually beneficial partnerships,” where he’d supply info from our contacts for a percentage of the plunder.
Rune’s ambition seems forced. Like he’s playing a role for the sake of others. It didn’t take much to divert his attention to the map. Maybe he’s looking for a way out, too. A way to leave all this behind.
The thought doesn’t sit well. This ship is luxurious, bordering on cushy. His crew respects him, even if some aren’t pleased with where we’re headed. No, he’s earned his position somehow. No one becomes a ship’s captain on accident. Not for long anyway.
The venom for pirates is worth noting, though even pirates hate pirates, so it’s hard to say if it’s trauma from his past, or just part of his moral code. Navy parents, maybe? But this isn’t a mainland navy vessel. The colours are wrong, and the navy would never allow someone like Bear aboard. They maintain the coastlines against beasts too horrifying to detail. Ocean creatures, hungry and utterly indifferent to the hopes of growing civilization.
I hold in a sigh and pull the blankets up to my chin. His eyelashes are long too, I hadn’t noticed it before—
“Stop looking at me and go to sleep.”
No.I twist back around, mortified. There’s no way he could tell I was looking at him, right? He was asleep. Soundly.
Right?
Slowly, so slowly, I look back, not allowing a slip of sound to betray me.
He’s smirking. Eyes closed.
Damn him.
The sun isn’t up when I wake again. I freeze, but let my attention roam the darkened room, trying to figure out what woke me. Rune’s head is tipped against the back of the chair, his mouth open. He doesn’t move when I sit up, even though the chain clanks against the bed frame. His blanket is still tucked around his waist, the faint markings on his chest and arms shimmering in the scant moonlight. But my senses buzzes with . . . something . . .
What was it?
