Chapter 7
Hook
“Nice cell.” Sarcasm dripped from Tink’s voice as Hook circled around her.
He rested against the edge of the desk. Bold words, but easy to read between. Her wings twitched and nose wrinkled. Tink’s clear-eyed gaze darted this way and that. He’d made her nervous. Hook removed his hat and set it aside. “You don’t want to be locked up down there tonight, love.”
Her lips thinned as she clutched his coat tighter around her. “I’m not staying in here with you.”
“Yes, you are.” He wouldn’t have her out of his sight, and not only because she might find a way to escape. “Half of my crew is drunk. The other half will be when they get back to the ship.” He grabbed a cloth from atop the desk and polished his hook as he spoke. “A few of them may have found a lovely lady, or man, to share the evening with. Most won’t. They lack my charm.” He grinned.
Tink rolled her eyes.
“When they come back, swaying on their feet, eyes blurred from the ale, they might see a pretty thing like you and think you chose to be on this ship. Many have.” He stroked a cloth up and down his hook in slow, rhythmic motions, not so much cleaning or polishing it, more out of habit. The practiced move calmed him, distracted his thoughts from the woman lingering so close to his bed. “Perhaps they’d think you took a wrong turn, got stuck in a cell by accident while trying to make a little extra coin giving comfort to some lonely pirates.”
“I’m not a whore.” Tink gaped. “They wouldn’t dare.”
“I’d like to think not. If one of mine did such a thing…” The cloth stopped. “They wouldn’t be on my crew anymore. But best not to risk it. For your sake.”
His crew wouldnevertreat an innocent woman so. But if she used her cursed kiss on one of them the way she had on him, would they force themselves on her in the dreamy haze of the pixie dust? Could they? Wasn’t a chance he could take.
The wrinkles between her brows smoothed out. Her entire face lost some of its sharpness.
“In fact, I think you should stay here until you’ve repaid your debt.”
The softness vanished into pressed lips. “How exactly do you expect me to repay my so-called debt when I’m stuck on this ship with you? Swab the decks?”
“Mmm,” he mused, “I would enjoy seeing you down on your hands and knees, working up a sweat.”Bloody hell, the vision that conjures is a curse of its own. How would he get that out of his head? Tink on the deck of theJolly Roger, white shirt stuck to her skin with sweat, hair pulled back behind her head, looking up at him.
“Rotten pirate,” she snapped.
So much fire. His lips quirked up at the corners as Hook crossed the room to her. “Thieving pixie.” Harsh words, but no bite.
“You stole it first.” Tink notched her chin higher, her blue eyes staring him down along her slightly pointed nose.
“I did.” He grinned. “I’ll be taking this back now.” He tugged his jacket off her, leaving her bare from the waist up other than the cloth wrapped around her chest.Fuck. Her pert nipples beaded against the fabric. Blonde hair had come loose from her braid and draped across her creamy skin. Hook turned away before he could give in to the temptation to seek a closer look.
“Hey!” Tink yelled after him, but no footsteps followed as he made his way to the wardrobe.
Open the door. Hang the jacket. Don’t think about the half-naked beauty in the room.It wasn’t enough that her curse filled his mind with visions that left him longing for her taste, but he’d happened to bring her here half-naked. Of all the shit luck. She needed clothes. Now.
He bunched up a pale shirt and tossed it toward her across the bed. “Here.” It would be too large, but it would do.
“My wings…” The gossamer things fluttered behind her like fine transparent silk in a rainbow of pale colors. Her face flushed pink, turning almost red near the tips of her ears. The color spread to her chest, even though she tried to hide it behind her lean arms.
He tossed a second shirt near the first. “Bind them.”
The blush vanished as her eyes flew wide. “You can’t ask a pixie to bind her wings! It isn’t right.”
Pixies and their rules. He sighed, leaning against the wardrobe. “You had them bound earlier this evening. What’s the difference?”
Her face flushed again, adding more fuel to the fire of his wicked thoughts. He couldn’t help but wonder how far down her petite form the blush traveled.
“You know nothing about pixies.” She pulled the shirts to her chest but made no move to put them on.
He shrugged—an empty gesture. He cared more than he should. “I know a little.”
“Not enough…”
