Page 100 of Paid to the Pirate

He wasn’t prepared for my rage, but he quickly recovered, lunging for me. I leapt backwards, dirk still in my hand, and scrambled onto the wet and slippery ship’s rail. With one hand I clung to the rope above my head. I didn’t have the chance to jump before I was forced to turn as Maurice attacked, face twisted in fury.

Had he determined to push me into the sea, it would have meant my eventual drowning. But either because he thought he was my father or because he wanted me for Colt, Maurice instead struggled to pull me back onto the ship. It gave me the opportunity to stab him once more, lower in his abdomen in what would hopefully be a fatal wound.

But it cost me my balance.

When Maurice tried to deflect the stab, he knocked me backwards.

By sheer luck, I fell into the jolly boat and not the dark sea. The fall was enough to snap the final frays of rope and plunge the boat itself into the waves.

But my luck had run out as when I fell backwards, my head smacked against the wooden railing with such force it not only knocked me unconscious, it knocked all sense of self from my head along with it.

That night the moon set upon the truth of Charlotte Clarke: orphaned daughter, pirate, thief,murderess.By the time the sun rose, I was Charlotte in name only -- a name engraved upon the back of my locket, my only possession. I’d lost my rations and my bag o’ bits to the sea.

Somehow, I’d even managed to lose my clothing.

I awoke ashore, bare and mysterious, like the goddess Aphrodite herself coming out of the waves.

I liked that story so much better, I’d wanted to believe it.

Part III

Claimed

Chapter 41

Charlotte – Present Day

Sputtering out sea water, I blinked my eyes open to find myself sprawled upon the deck ofThe Dread Night.To the west, a terrible storm looked ready to burst from the clouds, rolling in with an early evening. Captain Colt lifted my torso and I flopped like a ragdoll into an embrace so tight it threatened to crush my lungs. A gathering assortment of crewmembers stared with rapt attention.

All of my memories came flooding back at once, making me gasp for air as if I were still drowning.

I was young Charlotte… the lie of Charlie… and Charlotte once more, as a woman grown. Before Colt had taken me again.

I pushed Colt’s arm away.

“Don’t touch me, don’t you ever dare touch me.”

When he didn’t move, I pushed harder and screamed, “Murderer!” Fat tears leaked from my eyes. “You murdered my father!”

Colt released me, jumping back as if he’d been slapped. Torment clouded his eyes and despair covered his face. As if he had any right to feel those emotions. Everyone on deck fell utterly silent, watching the show. I didn’t care.

“My father, my father,” I covered my mouth with hands. “And you stole me! Made me work for you.” Closing my eyes against the image, I sobbed, “And beat me…”

Oh god, it hurt. The truth hurt so much more than my not understanding why Colt pushed me away. This man, this scoundrel I’d allowed to touch me most intimately, had taken everything from me. He’d ripped me from my father’s arms and the only home I ever knew.

Throughout my breakdown, Colt watched with a clenched jaw and tortured, glistening eyes. What right did he have to look as if he was sorry?

My hand flew to my locket -- the locket I’d worn every day since I’d been found. Every day since Colt put it there. All this time, I’d thought it was dirt staining the edges within, but it was blood, a pirate captain’s blood.

“You made me wear this,” I accused, “like a golden chain around my neck.” I tensed my hand to tear it off, but I couldn’t do it. It had been a part of me so long, I wasn’t ready.

“I hate you!” I cried. Memories charged me like vicious, wild animals. It was too much at once and I tried to fight them off as they attacked me, but their power was relentless. “I’ve always hated you.”

I tugged my hair, unable to handle the onslaught. Pictures raced through my mind, endless days and nights aboardThe Dark Blade.Strange, lingering looks from Colt I couldn’t decipher at the time, and the escalating tension between us. My boiling hatred was always present beneath the surface. Pushing me, motivating me…

…to escape.

I gasped as my mind caught up to the night I’d last seen Colt, the night I’d poisoned the crew.

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