Claiming? My questioning thoughts draw out a long sigh from Lincoln. Wood, smoothed by years of use, holds me up as I flatten my palms against the final obstacle. I lift myself over the edge. My eyes are drawn to the Captain who leans on her sword, and taps her foot. The crew who had gotten aboard before me disperses to different areas of the ship already busy with their own work. Still my attention bounces between them watching for any signs that they're watching Lincoln. Because they are. They're watching both of us.
Lincoln reaches for me, steadying me at the waist while Johanna leaps onto the deck. Her boots smack against the old boards with a thunderous stomp.
You're shifting your mind to the primal need of finding a mate. You're claiming me. Which will only make this much messier than it needs to be.
I clasp my hands before me trying to hold them together so I don't reach out and pluck the axe from Johanna's hands. A satisfying image of watching her head roll down the ship flashes briefly through my mind.
I.... I do not think that you adequately prepared me for my Fae half. I thought Fae sparked. Is this what happened to you when you said you were taking claim of me? Why you were so serious about Kai not touching me?
Apart from the fact that he ended up being a traitorous bastard, in short yes. Fae do spark. Sparking is like meeting.... ah... human terms...your soul mate. Another Fae made just perfectly for you. You can't choose to spark. It develops on its own. Claiming is chosen. Claiming is a mental change that you can make on your own. And you need to stop doing it right now.
He squeezes my waist gently. Johanna points to a large cabin built onto the deck. Green gems glow in the windows. The Captain moves, sheathing her sword, as she lets herself in and leaves the door open behind her for us to presumably enter.
I can't. I can't stop it. I don't even know how I started it.
Just... control yourself. I can smell the pheromones you are putting out and it'll be the death of us both.
My steps go deadly silent, much as I'd seen Violet do so many times before. My half Fae body now capable of a stealth I'd never known before. And so easily, too.
The cabin door closes as we pass through it, leaving us in a small room. A desk littered with papers and golden paperweights sits in the corner. A round table, etched to look like a compass, is opposite the messy desk. The green gems in the windows glow from the sunlight that filters into the room and throws the light against the rest of the walls.
Johanna points her weapon to the seats. This isn't the Shadow Court, nor is it the Iron Court. We aren't royalty to these people and no one rushes forward to pull our seats back for us. I allow the chair to squeal over the flooring as I watch the Captain and her first mate with acute awareness. The Captain remains unaware, or at least uncaring, of my glare as she begins pouring a clear liquid from a tall, skinny, decanter into three small glasses. Johanna though, she shuffles under my gaze. Her eyes hardening into two slits narrowed only on me.
I drop myself into the seat, my hand grasping Lincoln's thigh. He stiffens, but makes no move to remove my grip.
"Now that we have some shade of privacy," the captain purrs, holding the three cups carefully balanced against each other, "I think it's time we get to know each other better."
The clear liquid sloshes in the glasses as she sets them against the table and slides them over to our end. She flicks back her dark curls, sitting in the plush seat across from us. Johanna hovers, spinning her axe in her hand as if it would fall off if she stopped fiddling with it.
"So we aren't prisoners?" I ask.
"Well, until we can rule out a few things I wouldn't say that you're not." She sips from her glass. "Drink."
This is the literal oldest trick in the book. There is no way on earth that I would drink from this cup. What if she poisoned it? Or slipped in something that would knock us both out? No, thanks.
Lincoln reaches for his cup, bringing up to his nose. He inhales deeply.
Vodka.
And how can you be certain?
Well seeing as my own brother was able to drug me, I can't be. I thought I was well versed in poisons but apparently not as well as Kai.
I push my cup forward and fold my arms over my chest.
The captain shrugs and takes another drink. "Suit yourself."
"What is your name? What should we be addressing you as?" Lincoln starts. He holds his posture well, his shoulders straight as a soldier would. I like to think that the Captain sees that in him. Sees him as what he is, what we are. Deadly. I know Lincoln doesn't want it, but the mere thought of striking fear in their hearts feels suddenly thrilling.
That's the Claiming speaking. You need to get your head on right before this entire thing goes south. But there is a hint of amusement in his voice. Lincoln's enjoying watching me squirm.
"Captain Beatrice Ann," Johanna says, stomping her foot and standing proudly behind the captain. "Queen of the seven seas and famous for her unmatched ability to sink enemy ships."
Beatrice Ann... Beatrice Ann. God above that name is oddly familiar.
"Captain Beatrice," Lincoln addresses her formally, "can you tell us where we are?"
"If you think you can act your way out of my suspicions you would be wrong. Let's be honest here. Why were you on my beach?"
"Do not lie to her." Johanna shakes her head. "She shaped the future of piracy. She demands your respect. Before her everyone else hid from royal ships instead of standing up to them."
Captain Beatrice waves her hand at her lacky. But Johanna bounces behind her, biting at her bit. The woman, despite her age, is like a rabid chihuahua, if I don't watch her, she'll be nipping at our ankles any minute.
"We're not lying," I groan out.
"So we are just supposed to assume that you had no plans on attacking my ship. Of robbing me of my supplies or every earthly good I've gained?"
"Right."
"Honey, I've met your kind before. You aren't fooling anyone."
"And we aren't trying to," Lincoln cuts in. He loops his arm around my chair, holding the back of it tightly. The metal cuffs on his arms scrape noisily against the wood, drawing Johanna’s attention to them.
"Do you think I would have come to raid your stupid boat in a fucking dress and these stupid heels?" I lift my feet up to show off the impressive height of the stilettos.
"I've raided ships in fancier shoes than that," the captain laughs.
"Look, we got a little lost and somehow managed to end up on your beach. We'll be happy to get out of your hair." Lincoln's tone is much gentler than mine.
"Do you think I'll let you leave so easily!?" Beatrice slams her hand on the table, rattling the glasses. "I am Beatrice Ann. You'll leave when I say you can."
Beatrice Ann. I chew on my lip with the nagging feeling that somehow, I know her. I repeat her name again and again inside my head. Who is she? How do I know this name?
Beatrice Ann, pirate captain. Thoughts string together inside my head connecting me back to the shallowest of memories. The concept of her comes rushing back.
"Oh my god. I know you." I snap my fingers, sitting forward.
"Well, I would expect that you would." She lifts her chin.
"Beatrice Ann was one of the first truly famous female pirates. Or at least that's what the stories say." I turn toward Lincoln. "My history teacher did a small lesson on pirates, their origins, and how they've changed over the years." I squint at Beatrice. "How are you alive? That was centuries ago."