And she was going to rob him.
Tink swallowed, letting her gaze travel from his face and down his torso while she warred with herself. Even so, she tugged athis shirt. “Now how are we going to get this off?” The thickness of her own voice surprised her. She wasn’t supposed to want him, not really.
He yanked his shirt up and over his head faster than any one-handed man should be able. Damn, but he was a sight—all coiled, tanned muscle.
Tink slid her fingertips into the pocket on her breeches, just far enough to touch the contents of the little pouch she had hidden there. It was now or never. A step farther and she risked going too far, falling under the spell of this wicked pirate.
She ran her finger along her lips, pretending to enjoy the view.Okay, not totally pretending.Or not at all. The sight of him spread out below her would fill her erotic dreams—pirate or not. Tink rubbed against the bulge in his pants as she leaned over his chest. That was for her. Another conquest of the night.
Pressing her lips to his was easy as breathing. Maybe easier. It really was too bad she only had him this once. He wouldn’t want her again once he woke and found out what she’d done—the theft, or the means of it. There was a reason humans weren’t kind to pixies. Either they wanted their dust for themselves, or they accused pixies of using their magical dust to bewitch them. Just a small amount, consumed by a human, hit them harder than any drug. They’d be off to dreamland, “flying on the pixie dust” as some called it, for hours, only to awaken without a hangover and half-lost in the echo of fanciful dreams. Many craved it to escape their lives, if only for a little while.
Tink drew back, admiring the strong jaw under her palm. This close, she finally noticed the shade of Hook’s eyes, dark grey like stormy seas.
“Love?” He brushed hair back from her face. “Are ye…glowing?”
Already her dust, her tainted kiss, addled his senses. “Glowing?” She slid her pixie dust-coated finger across his lips for good measure.
He didn’t fail to disappoint. That wicked tongue flicked out to lick at the tip of her finger. “Aye… Ya…”
That twinge of guilt swelled up again, followed closely by a hint of loss. He went limp under her, his breath soft and even as he slipped into a deep slumber.
Glowing? Forhim?What nonsense.
Tink slipped off the bed. The necklace lay heavy against her chest as she admired the sleeping pirate. One last look for her memories.
“Farewell, Captain.”
Chapter 3
Hook
Three months later
Solid ground always made him unsteady. It wasn’t right—something so hard, firm, and unmoving. Hook frowned down at the dirt marring his leather boots. The things he did for his men. He’d take the sea any day—wind in his hair, sun on his back.
He glanced back at his ship moored in the harbor. A wry grin painted his features. TheJolly Roger’s masts towered above the other ships in port, a commanding presence that no one would miss. Sunlight splashed across the sail, lighting the skull and crossbones painted there. At least the weather was fair—it always was in Tortuga. Old witch magic, the locals said. Spells worked into the soil to ensure safe haven for pirate, merchant, and fisherman alike. Little wonder the land felt wrong.
He shook his head as he pushed open the door to the Rusty Anchor, Tortuga’s most notorious bar and brothel. He’d promised his crew one night on shore before returning to sea. With casks of ale and food on their way to the ship, he couldfinally join them. But Hook had a different aim than drink or pleasure. Ale and rum loosened the tongue, and a loose tongue was a pirate’s friend. Slip a few coins into pockets, and well, he’d have a new treasure in his sights by nightfall.
Or a way to break the bloody curse on him. For that, he’d give every scrap of treasure on his ship and then some.
Laughter and pipe smoke billowed out from within. A cave would have been brighter than this shithole. It had nothing on the colorful rays of sunset sparkling off the sea at his back. Sweaty scoundrels and buxom barmaids filled the crowded room. A few of his crew already lounged among the patrons, wasting their hard-earned coin on piss-poor ale little better than water.
He tipped his brimmed hat as he wove through splintered furniture and sweating bodies. He gave one barmaid a grin, another a wink.
Smee sat at a table near the bar, his sandy head leaned over the back of the chair. At first glance, he looked asleep, peaceful as a babe. Another step showed the rest of the scene. A bouncing brunette straddled his lap, skirts bunched around her waist. Smee’s groan carried through the room. His arms tightened around the woman’s waist, urging her on. She squealed in delight, biting her painted bottom lip.
No one looked. No one cared about the woman’s conquest of his first mate.
“Captain,” a barmaid crooned. “Care for some company?” Her come-hither look promised an adventure despite another man’s arms around her. The sweaty sailor was so lost in his cups he didn’t notice his catch’s wandering eye.
“Not tonight, love.” The phantom memory of his hand twitched where his namesake hook now resided. It’d been too long since he had a woman. Too long since that wench Tinker Bell drugged him with her kiss and stole his treasure. Worse,she’d cursed him twofold. One look at another woman, and all he saw was her. The dimpled cheek. Pink lips. Tousled, blonde hair. Eyes as clear blue as a shallow reef. His cock betrayed him, stiffening as her face taunted him from his memories.
The bar beckoned, tearing him away even as the woman called out to him again. She’d been right in front of him, but all he saw was Tink.
Worse than ruining him for women, she’d turned the sea against him. Nothing else could explain why the summer storms tore his sails and blew them off course while leaving their rivals untouched. Hook slammed the point of his hook into the wood of the bar. He was better than that, damn it. Blessed by the god of the seas, born of his potent seed from the waves themselves.
He liked that rumor best. Far better than the truth.
