Page 38 of Kidnapped by the Pirate
Will Hawk really kill me?
He thought of the hours and hours Hawk had read aloud for his sake. The way he’d refuted that Nathaniel was stupid. The fresh fruit he’d brought. Why these kindnesses if Hawk truly was nothing more than a cold-blooded killer?
Hands jiggling, Nathaniel paced around the cabin—back, forth, to, and fro—chest tight, breath short. He needed to run, to feel the ground under his feet and wind in his ears, his mind clearing with every step, peace flowing with every inhalation, muscles burning wonderfully.
Warring thoughts slithered through him, too hard to catch: contrition, rebellion, grief, refusal. Trapped in the cursed cabin, he rushed to the windows and shoved one out, opening his mouth and breathing deep of the salty air, spray wetting his face as the ship crested a swell and rolled down it.
The water in the West Indies was a clear blue unlike any he’d ever seen, and he longed to go up on deck and look in all directions. In Nassau, he’d been able to glimpse how the sand was almost white, and he ached to sink his feet into it and run for miles.
Of course he’d been promised that, and Hawk had gone back on his word. Nathaniel shouldn’t believe a thing he said, no matter how many books he read aloud. No matter how tender his fingers had felt tracing the spot where their bodies were still joined after coupling.
The cabin door opened, and Nathaniel’s foolish, foolish heart leapt. But when he turned, Hawk didn’t meet his gaze. In fact, he didn’t look at him at all. He simply circled his desk, boots thudding, pulled out his chair, and opened his log.
He pushed up the flowing sleeves of his dark shirt, and soon the quill scratched the page. Nathaniel moved back to stand near his corner. Then he crossed the cabin to the bookshelf and stood there.
Then back again. Then over by the bed, and finally right in front of the desk. There was no response from Hawk. Not even a flicker of his eyes, or hesitation as he dipped his quill in the ink pot. Simply…nothing. As if Nathaniel weren’t even present. As if he didn’t matter at all.
It shouldn’t have bothered him. He shouldn’t have permitted the well of pain to open and widen, but to be made invisible again after his desires were finally known—and shared—was unbearable. The words escaped before he could creep back to his corner. “Am I really so beneath you?”
The damned quill finally stilled, and Hawk peered up, not lifting his head. “If you think so.”
“What am I supposed to think? How can I feel anything but brought low when you won’t even look at me?”
Hawk sat back in the chair, brows drawn tight, a sneer on his lips. The carved serpents and bird rose above his head, framing it like a dark crown. “Why the fuck should I care about how you feel?”
He pushed back the chair to stand and walked toward the door. “You are a prisoner on a God-damned pirate ship. If you insist on being ashamed of taking pleasure where it can be found, that’s your choice. Your fucking problem.”
Nathaniel stepped to the center of the cabin, legs trembling but fists clenched. “You make me feel ashamed by…dismissing me thus. Pretending you don’t even see me. You’re a hypocrite.”
As if speaking to a small child, condescension dripping, Hawk turned and said, “You’re my prisoner, Plum. You’re nothing. I fucked your virgin ass so I could take my pleasure and return you to your father defiled. There was no other meaning in it.”
“There, you see! ‘Defiled.’ Is that not designed to shame me? Your messages are mixed, sir.”
Jaw clenched, Hawk barked, “I’m not a gentleman. I do not owe you a thing. I am also not your fucking nursemaid, here to soothe your little hurts and rock you to sleep. I am not your beloved tutor. I am not a good man.” He took a long-legged stride toward him. Then another.
The edge of the desk jammed into Nathaniel’s buttocks as he jerked back. He braced his hands behind him, fingers scrabbling over loose paper as Hawk loomed.
“You said your legendarily kind and proper tutor taught you to wrestle. Tell me, did you yearn for him to bugger you?”
The breath whooshed from Nathaniel’s lungs, his head spinning. He opened and closed his mouth mutely, and then Hawk had his wrist, whipping him around and bending him over the desk, right arm twisted up behind him.
The heat of Hawk’s big body hovered over him, his breath gusting over Nathaniel’s ear. “When he pinned you, did you want him to pull down your breeches?”
His hand snaked beneath Nathaniel, tugging at the buttons. Cooler air caressed his skin as his breeches and linen drawers were yanked down to his knees. Nathaniel’s heart galloped.
