Of Sea and Shadow

Isla could see the sun setting through the portholes around the cabin. The day had passed without Ebon returning. It had been hours since her capture, and she was hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. What little fruit had been in the bowl had long since been consumed.

Her clothes had gone, and she hadn’t even seen him take them. There was a sheet on his bed, a shirt in his chest of clothes. His sheet, his shirt. The sheet smelled of him, a faint hint of his scent, and she didn’t want such a constant reminder wrapped around her nakedness. But the shirt was clean. On her, it came down to mid-thigh.

Was it better to be wearing his clothes than to be naked? She couldn’t decide, but she wore it anyway.

She was sure he hadn’t locked the door when he left. There’d been no sound of a tumbler clicking in place.

Had he deliberately left it unsecured? Maybe she could walk out if she wished. But where would she go? No doubt he would be delighted for her to parade around, naked beneath his shirt, entertaining his crew.

She’d toyed with the idea of running out of the cabin and jumping over the rail. But she knew she wouldn’t. So far, all he’d done was spank her—as humiliating as that was—and death had a way of being so permanent.

Besides, she was under no illusions about what would happen if she tried to make a run for it. She would be caught—either by his crew or his damnable shadows—and maybe even punished. This time, the punishment would be worse than a spanking.

Ebon Shadowbane. It was unthinkable. She’d heard his name, but only as a myth. How could such a man exist? And yet she’d seen with her own eyes—and felt with her own body, damn him. He’d had his hands on her—his shadows too—and helped himself as he wanted.

Yet he stopped short of doing more than…what he had. As if that wasn’t enough.

But why had he stopped? Why hadn’t his tendrils gone further? Why hadn’t he tried to force himself on her?

She wouldn’t have been able to fight him, and he knew that.

He must simply be waiting for the right moment.

Isla glanced at the door, concerned her thoughts of him might somehow draw him, and at any moment it could open. His cot was in the side room. He would be back; he would need to sleep.

What did that mean for her?

Isla sat on one of the dining chairs, waiting. Waiting, like she had all day, for something.

Like she had any choice.

“My little captive.”

Damn, how she hated it when he’d called her that. How she hated him.

“That is an excellent place to start.”

Start, end, and every moment between.

The light in the cabin grew dim as darkness crept in. He would be here soon.

She hated how he had trapped her, how he had played with her and toyed with her from the very moment they’d met. All she’d done was take a worthless stone, and he’d somehow taken offense.

He’d known she was hiding in the crate on the docks. Somehow, he’d known.

“Get these crates loaded.”

“Cap’n? Those?”

“That’s what I said.”

“They’re not ours.”

It hadn’t been the crates he wanted; it had been her.

How? How could he have known?

“I’ll have this back,” and his hand had gone unerringly to where she’d sequestered the pouch.

“You don’t know what you’ve stolen, do you?”

Was it possible? Had she taken something that only appeared worthless? Something he was so strongly connected to that he’d been able to feel its location…and hers.

Fuck, she’d never had a chance. From the moment she’d taken it, her fate had been sealed.

She’d thought it was just a pouch of coins.

It had called to her, begging to be cut from his belt. It had seemed to slip free of his person, dangle so alluringly.

Had he done it deliberately?

No, she didn’t think he had. He’d seemed surprised she’d known it was there at all. Hell, thinking back, he’d seemed happy when she had described the stone to him. Though that might simply have been the prospect of the spanking he was about to administer.

Well, it didn’t matter. He had her now.

What was he going to do with her?

Apart from strip her naked and spank her. Toy with her, tease her, stroke her, caress her.

Then abandon her.

Arouse her, humiliate her, stimulate her, and then leave her.

Damn the man!

Not that she wanted him to stay, of course. No, not that.

Isla turned away from the door, her gaze shifting to the porthole on the other side of the cabin. She stared into the distance, her eyes unfocused and unseeing.

It had grown dark. How late was it?

She was hungry and tired.

And still he did not cum.