Page 22 of Found at Sea
8
Kellan
I could feel a change in me taking root. There were times when I felt like myself, someone who took what he wanted and damned anyone who defied him…and then there were other times when I didn’t. When I stopped myself from doing something that’d once come as second nature to me, all because my conscience decided to intervene.
And it’d only started happening sincehecame into my life.
Back on the upper deck, I stormed across the planks and went toward my cabin. As much as I’d love to return to the brothel and finish what I’d tried to start, I knew it was useless.
Earlier, I’d drank my fill of mead before entering the brothel. Fletcher had been on my mind for so long, and I ached for a release. I hoped by fucking as many whores as I could that I’d stop thinking about him and his beautiful pale skin, auburn hair, and green eyes.
But I hadn’t been able to do it.
A man had entered the room, exactly my type: tall, muscled, and willing to be fucked. But not even a minute into him kissing my neck, down my chest, and stroking my dick had I told him to stop. Giving a reason for my dismissal of him, I’d said I was in the mood for a blond. Moments later, a blond had come into the room, only to be met with the same fate: me rejecting him.
After another failed attempt, two more men came in.
At first, I’d forced myself to participate, to clear my mind of Fletcher and his alluring innocence, and try to fuck these men who were more than appealing to my tastes.
I kissed one on the throat as another pulled down my pants. He’d taken my dick into the warmth of his mouth, and for a split second, I’d moaned, reveling in the feel of it. His tongue flicked my slit as he moved his hand up and down my hardening length.
But then it happened.
I closed my eyes, tilted my head back with pleasure, and thenhiseyes appeared in my mind. Green like moss and full of wonder. The pleasure of the moment fled as a different feeling crept along my spine and settled in the pit of my stomach. Guilt. Regret.
I pulled away from the whore and tucked myself back in my pants.
“What can we do to please you, Captain?” the brunette asked.
The blond—who’d been sucking my cock only seconds before—sat up on the cushion and wiped at his mouth before peering up at me. “You used to like us. Are we not to your taste any longer?”
Feeling apologetic, I stood up and tossed some coin onto the bed for their effort. Rage boiled in my veins, not at them but at myself. Athimfor taking claim to my mind. And apparently my body as well.
When I’d stormed out of the room and into that hall and seen him standing there, wide-eyed and quite frankly scared out of his wits, all of the rage bubbling inside me just exploded and before I could even process my actions, I’d grabbed him and dragged him away.
However, I doubt it was only rage that caused me to behave in such a way. Seeing Fletcher so afraid just did something to me. I’d suspected he was pure, so finding him in a brothel had been a shock. But then seeing the expression on his face had told me he didn’t want to be there. So I’d done the only thing I could think of: took him back to my ship where he’d be safe.
I’d have a chat with Alek later too.
When Fletcher first arrived, I’d told Alek to keep an eye on him, because Fletcher would need all the guidance he could get as he transitioned into a pirate’s lifestyle. They were close in age and I knew they’d get along well. I had justified it as me ensuring the crew remained strong; a weak link would only drag everyone else down with it.
But of course, I soon realized it was more than that. He was more than that.
“Damn fool,” I said to no one as I thought of Alek. He should’ve known Fletcher didn’t belong in a place like that.
I stood in front of the desk in my quarters, bracing my arms on the wood surface and hanging my head. The sleepless nights were catching up to me and the muscles in my neck and shoulders were tight and shooting pain straight to the backs of my eyes.
I was in my twenty-ninth year. Not even a full year left before the curse took effect. I’d heard tales of men who’d become shades. They were but ghosts to the world, unable to be seen, felt, or heard but also unable to end their lives. Just a constant existence of nothingness.
Unless I earned another heart.
“But what does it mean?” I yelled, lashing out and knocking the papers off my desk.
The mystery of it, and the slipping away of time, was what kept me awake at night. My mind would relentlessly remind me that each second not spent on deciphering the riddle was another second wasted.
After going to the table in the corner, I poured myself a glass of rum and sat down.
Observing my quarters and comparing it to Fletcher’s caused guilt to rise again. His sleeping area was cramped, dusty, and smelled of musty air; whereas mine was spacious with a large four poster bed, and a separate sitting room that included a desk, cushioned armchairs, and a table. Strange how I’d never felt guilty about such a thing with any of the other members of the crew.
