7
When at last the women were finished with their undertaking, my skin glowed pink and was completely unblemished by walnut stains. My hair had been brushed straight, shortened by several inches, and in some places stripped bare. Smooth.
Worse, it was now a soft, flowing caramel that drew the other women in. Fawning over something that had anxiety bubbling up the back of my throat.
One more wash,maybetwo, and the last of my disguise would melt away.
It had takenhoursto turn me into a frilly doll dressed in thin scraps of silk.
Every humiliating moment overseen by the watchful, inky glare of one Captain Asher Rawlings.
“Well, would you look at that,” Marco said, watching Beau lead me from the bathing area. “The wildcat’s been transformed into a real girl,” he said, reaching out to touch me.
I bared my teeth in warning.
“But perhaps not quite civilized,” the captain said, a heavy hand landing on my shoulder.
Flinching, I tried to pull away.
His grip tightened, and it was enough to quell another rebellion. “What will I call you?” he asked. “Hob is a terrible name for a pleasure slave.”
Instead of answering, I scowled, letting him see the seething rage bubbling just beneath the surface.
With an indignant shriek, Beau spun on her heel and slapped me with an open hand.
My head snapped to the side, but I was too shocked to make a sound.
“Of all the insolent, ungrateful—”
I didn’t give her time to finish her sentence. Lunging, fueled by rage, I shirked the captain’s hold too fast for him to react. My fist connected with her face so hard I was sure I’d broken something, but I continued attacking, wrapping my hands around her throat. Squeezing with the intent to crush that delicate cartilage.
A thick bicep circled my throat, ending the short-lived retaliation that had me clawing at his forearm once more. “Stop,” the captain snarled, lips moving against my ear. The hard length of a muscular body dwarfed me in an unforgiving cage.
A body trained for war.
His anger a cold lash against my skin, an assault to my untrained senses, it was a dare for me to fight. The promise of retribution.
I was outmatched, my slight stature best suited for stealth attacks, for subterfuge and poison. Notthis. Not hand-to-hand combat against an opponent more than twice my size.
Lifting trembling hands, I surrendered.
A smile flicked against my skin, pressed into my perfectly groomed hair. “Good girl,” he murmured, and let me breathe but kept me pressed to his chest. Restrained.
“How dare you?” Beau hissed, clutching a swollen cheek as she glared through tears. Body stiff as Marco helped her to stand.
“Beau.” The captain’s voice was sharp with warning. A clear reprimand.
I met her watery glare, a taunting smile tracing my lips.
“Punish her!” she screamed, then froze. Her skin blanched a sickly shade of green. “Sir,” she added in a terrified squeak, her eyes rimmed in white.
“Hob’s training is no concern of yours,” the captain replied, cold. Clipped.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered, head bowed. “I have no idea what’s come over me.”
I sneered, a tiny puff of disgusted air crossing my lips as I took a step away from her.
A fist wrapped in my hair, and the captain forced my neck to arch. My head made to rest against his shoulder. “Something funny?”
