Seizing Rain (Seas of Seduction Book 1)

by A. E. Murphy

  “Pussies,” Roger says, gasping and gagging as he slowly stands, pushing through the pain.

  I start to run, wishing I’d done so sooner but I’m caged in.

  I pass between two men, tripping on my laces and falling straight onto another man coming up the stairs.

  “You alright, lass?” he asks kindly, helping me right myself.

  I brush past him, nearing the door for the captain’s quarters.

  I don’t start breathing until it closes behind me and I’m in my corner with a heavy book, the pillow I’ve been finding comfort in, and my knees tucked up to my chin as best as my boobs will allow. Not that I have much boobage.

  The sharp, deep, gruff word, “No,” rouses me from my near slumber.

  “But… you’re hard,” a raspy female voice whines.

  “Not for you.”

  I shift, keeping my eyes closed so nobody knows I’m awake.

  “Is this because of her? We can go elsewhere, you know I don’t mind it outside.”

  “My men told me,” Captain replies and the girl gasps. “Fuck off, Millie, I’m going to sleep.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not putting my dick in you. Not again. Fuck that. Rather put it in a cat.”

  She gasps again, huffs and then the door slams shut and locks with a creak.

  “Fucking whore,” he murmurs and I hear him stagger into something. “Shouldn’t ever have let them bring her and her fucking nails.”

  He sounds drunk, not a lot but enough to be past tipsy.

  Drunk men scare me so I stay curled and pull the pillow to my face, hoping to blend in like a piece of furniture.

  He walks past, his feet heavy but steady and I hear him brush his teeth before returning. Clothing drops to the ground and I fight the urge to look at him and his striking back tattoo of a phoenix rising out of a burning ship. The urge wins and I stare at it, following the rippling water that surrounds the black shaded vessel which is near shrouded in smoke. A large phoenix-type bird, with wings that span around his shoulders and a curved beak that touches the bottom of his hair, opens its mouth in a permanent battle cry , and I wonder what the story is behind it.

  “I can feel your eyes, kitten,” he says, unhooking the belt of his jeans and letting them drop.

  My eyes drift to his rear. It is perfect and round and so toned but I knew it would be. He works out every morning and night usually, so it comes as no surprise that his body is godlike. Not that I watch.

  “It’s your tattoo,” I say boldly. “I was just admiring it.”

  “Admiring?” He smirks at me over his shoulder before moving to the bed and sitting on it, still facing away from me. “Get a closer look…” His eyebrows wag at me in the mirror on the wall by the built-in chest of drawers. “If you dare.”

  I look away again and settle into my corner.

  Does he really think I find his charm funny or alluring?

  He chuckles at my silence. “Stubborn, aren’t you?” I continue ignoring him. “Brave, perhaps a little naïve.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Without moving, he blows out a breath and then with movements that force his tattoo to move, he rubs his face with his hands. “Why don’t you have tattoos?”

  A genuine question it seems. “Could never decide on one I liked.”

  “So you’re not opposed?”

  I peek at him carefully but he’s still facing away, his posture one that translates loneliness and exhaustion. “Tasteful tattoos always look good.”

  “Are mine tasteful?”

  “That’s not for me to judge.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  I roll my tongue over my lip. “Umm… I’ve seen worse?”

  He laughs. “Brave, definitely brave.”

  “Why did you get the one on your back?”

  He seems to hesitate as he stares ahead and a minute passes. I wonder if I’ve lost him to a memory but then he finally speaks, his tone deep and hoarse.

  “I was born on a ship to a stowaway fleeing a life of prostitution in Mexico,” he begins, still looking at me in the mirror. I can feel his eyes this time. It sets my body on fire and makes my womb tingle, much to my own horror.

  “That’s insane.”

  “Beyond borders… and my mother died of sepsis days later.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, finally meeting his striking greens in the mirror.

  He smiles in a way that makes his scar move and look angrier than before. I wonder how new it is. “They couldn’t prove my lineage so they simply kept me on board and taught me the ways of the sea.”

  I nod to show that I am listening to his tragic tale.

  “I was raised by strong men and learned to be a pirate. Captain Sullivan of the Empress Fortune took me under his wing. Until he was… incapacitated.”

  “What happened?” I shift in my seat, needing focus to follow this tragic tale that’s probably nothing but the spun lie of a murderer.

  “Mutiny.”

  My lips part. “His own men turned against him?”

  “They did.”

  Could that happen here? I daren’t ask so instead I prompt him to finish his story. “Then?”

  “Then is a story for another time.”

  “What?” I want to shake him. “You can’t start and stop there. Worst cliff-hanger ever.”

  His perfect teeth flash as he scrapes them over his lower lip. “Join me in bed and maybe I’ll tell you the rest.”

  I flip him the bird and turn away. “Not a chance.”

  Chuckling, he pulls back the blanket and lies down. “If you change your mind…”

  “I won’t.”

  I hear rain, heavy rain and the sound of men running around. Thunder rumbles and lightning cracks but it passes over fast enough.

  I’m brought breakfast with a request to join the captain up on deck when I’m done. I almost daren’t but at this point it’s best that I just do as I’m told.

  I scoff down my porridge relieved that there’s no sign of nausea, slip my feet into my sneakers and follow Clunk up to the deck.

  The sun beams down, so warm and purifying. It feels amazing despite the cold wind that whips through my loosened braid.

  Clunk takes me around the bridge and towards the stern. We sidestep working men and carefully move around a gun that’s bigger than me. This is insane.

  “Come on,” Clunk grumbles, urging me along.

  When we round the base of the gun, I find myself at the curved rear of the ship with the captain.

  “I thought you might want to see this,” he says, motioning for me to come closer.

  I stand at his side and look at the horizon, gasping when I see what he’s pointing at.

  My hands grip the railings and I lean closer as though these extra few inches will make any difference in my vision.

  What I can see is brilliant. It’s the remnant of the storm that we just escaped. Purple lightning flashes through a thick black cloud and a mist of rain falls onto the choppy waters. It may as well be happening on a different world entirely.

  “That’s incredible,” I breathe, gripping the railing so tightly my hands turn white.

  “It’s my favourite part of a storm.”

  “Being out of it?” I ask, grinning as he leans on his arms on the railing, putting him just a little lower than me in height.

  “Exactly.” He reaches with his calloused fingers and gently pulls free a few strands of hair that became tangled in my lips.

  I shouldn’t allow it but there’s a softness to his gaze that I can’t resist. I prefer soft him to angry him, not that I’ve seen angry him but I’d rather not.

  Licking them when they’re free of hair, I pull my eyes away with difficulty and look at the magnificent image. Wishing I could take a picture.

  “Why am I here?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  He smirks and turns so his hip is against the railing and he’s back to his towering height. “Kiss me and I’ll tel
l you.”

  “You just had to ruin it,” I murmur and ignore his following laughter. “May I return to your room?”

  “No, you may not,” he mimics my accent and backs me into the rail until his arms are caging me in and all I can see is the top of his shirt and the hollow of his throat. “What do you think of Niall?”

  My eyes narrow as my brain tries to figure out what game he’s playing now. “As in my boyfriend?”

  “The one and only.” He leans back and looks down at me, watching my face for a reaction. “Is he a good person?”

  I nod. “The best.”

  “But you’re not.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “I’m not a bad person.”

  “You were arrested and that’s how you both met?”

  How does he know? I wasn’t charged so it’s not a matter of public record. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Three years.”

  Not liking where this is going, I push against his chest but he doesn’t budge. “Let me go.”

  “What did you do?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  His lips brush my ear, filling my nose with the scent of fresh lemons and clean laundry. “Exactly.”

  He bites on the lobe which sends tingles burning and racing through my limbs. I gasp, trying to think of anything but the way he’s making me feel.

  “Do I make you wet?” he breathes into my ear and my hands grip the railing behind me. “I see you watching me undress. I know you notice.”

  “Step back.”

  “I know you like what you see. More so than your skinny prick of a boyfriend.” His hand tangles in my hair beneath my braid and yanks. “I bet you’ve never been as wet for him as you are for me right now.”

  A whimper escapes my parted lips as his teeth bite into the curve of my neck and his hand tightens in my hair. He grinds against me, his solid length against my covered mound.

  I hate how good it feels. I hate how my body betrays me.

  “Bad girls should be with bad guys,” he continues, tasting me with his tongue. “Do you want to be bad for me?”

  I try to do what I did to Roger last night but fail. He feels me shift and traps my knee between his powerful thighs.

  “Please,” I beg. “Let me go.”

  The second he loosens his grip I run, keeping my balance as I crashed through the crew and make my way to anywhere but here. Shame, confusion and anger flood my body. The body that betrayed me moments ago.

  Why is he doing this to me?

  Why must he torture me? Isn’t it enough that I’m his prisoner?

  But I’m done being his prisoner and I’m done being a victim. I’m smarter than this and so much more powerful.

  If I’m going to get out of this alive I need to plan.

  I’ve wasted so much time wallowing and I want to kick myself.

  Nightfall comes but not before I shower again and choose more clothing from his drawers. Such an intimate thing, wearing his clothes. This is good, though. This is fortunate. What he says goes. Maybe I can weave my way into his good graces and trust that he doesn’t kill me at the end. If I can get him on my side…

  I don’t even know where to begin.

  It’s late when he comes to bed and I’m in the middle of reading Treasure Island, funnily enough. Anything to even give me a glimpse of what I’m dealing with. All I know thus far is that pirates like treasure and the only treasure I have to give is my vagina and I’m definitely not giving him that. As soon as he takes it he’ll tire of me and that’ll be my demise. Men like him, ruthless, savage beings don’t love. I’m nothing to him.

  It’s freeing figuring that out.

  “Evening,” I say of my own accord.

  He grins at me with that trademark cocky smirk. “Evening.”

  I return to my book, setting my plan in motion.

  Days go by, days of no word, no talking with anybody but Geoffrey. The entire ship was on red alert, prepared when one of the lookouts spotted another ship in the distance. They said it was a cruise ship and nothing to worry about, but still turned on the engines and moved us east. I took note of the compass on the wall, time and date. It could be a possible escape route if desperate enough though I haven’t put too much more thought into it.

  Really at this point any hopes of escape are a pipe dream, my main task is keeping alive and safe. I’m not naïve enough to think my good health and wellbeing are a permanent thing. I’m a means to an end and when that end comes I need to be ready.

  Geoffrey keeps me occupied when I’m not mopping or avoiding people by reading one of the many books in Captain’s room. I’ve hardly seen him which has been a relief. The less time I have with him the less likely he is to confuse me.

  I discover the name of the ship is the Sea Whore and I wonder if Captain named it after his mother in some weird way.

  It even has a black flag which they fly when feeling rebellious. Geoffrey showed me it on a walk to clear our heads yesterday.

  Now though, things are back to normal for the most part.

  Well… almost.

  Because I just inhaled something that has me choking and retching. Something Geoffrey accidentally dropped and it immediately shot upwards in a cloud of powder and smoke.

  “Oh shit,” Geoffrey murmured the second it fell from his hands as he was passing it into mine and asking me to put it in the cupboard behind me. “Oh double shit. Did you breathe it in?”

  “You think?” I squeak as he sprays me with a tap, drenching me from hair to chest.

  “Hold out your hands.”

  “What is it? Am I going to die?”

  “Eh… probably not…” He laughs nervously.

  I glare at him. “Fix this!”

  He sprays me again and places his hand on my neck to check my temperature.

  “What’s going to happen, Geoffrey?”

  “Chatterbox, go fetch the captain… and maybe some handcuffs.”

  “What? Why?” Am I contagious? Is it the plague? Am I going to die?

  My body starts to tingle, starting with my nose. It feels a bit like when I drink too much and my face starts to go numb.

  Chatterbox flees the room faster than if I was shooting at him.

  Geoffrey makes me drink from the extendable tap before squirting my hands and such too. He rinses away the residual powder on the floor and continuously asks me how I’m feeling.

  The door opens and Captain looks around with a stern gaze, Clunk and three others at his heels.

  “What happened?” He moves towards me, cupping my face gently, seeming to be genuinely concerned about my health. I bat his hands away.

  “You know the thing we’ve been working on?” Geoffrey scratches his head, cringing when Clunk takes a step towards him.

  “What thing?”

  “The thing that will be more valuable to us than crack…”

  Captain’s eyes widen. “The thing?”

  Geoffrey nods. “The thing.”

  I bat his hands away again when he wipes at a drop of water on my temple. “What thing?” I pull on my collar and fan my face with my hand. “Am I dying?”

  Captain ignores me. “How much did she consume?”

  “A good lungful…”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  Chatterbox hands him a set of handcuffs.

  “Oh my God,” I cry, stepping away from them all as they speak amongst themselves. “Am I going rabid? What’s going to happen? Crack? Did I just have crack?”

  A harsh breath leaves me as Captain plants his shoulder into my stomach and lifts me. I hold myself up with my hands on his back, squirming with discomfort.

  “Captain… what the fuck?” I shout. “Put me down.”

  He ignores me but slaps my thigh when I struggle against his hold.

  I settle because really, what the fuck else can I do? I don’t much fancy eating the floor with my face right now.

  A minute later of avoiding curious gazes, wolf-wh
istles and suggestions, we’re in his room and not only does he toss me on his bed but he handcuffs me to it. Both hands with the chain around a bar that should be for holding magazines I think.

  I cry and cuss him out when he moves into the bathroom and I hear the tap of the bath running.

  “You’re about to get extremely uncomfortable,” he explains, returning with a sodden wet towel.

  He places it on my body, ignoring my shriek.

  The door opens without permission and Geoffrey walks in with a small vial of orange fluid.

  “You can give her this to help her sleep but I don’t know how it’ll react with the drug.”

  Captain snatches it from him and places it on the table by my head.

  “What are you doing? Please, uncuff me,” I beg, my body temperature has risen to an unbearable degree. “Why am I so warm? Somebody, tell me what’s happening.”

  “Cliff Notes, you inhaled an aphrodisiac.” Geoffrey shrugs apologetically. “An extremely potent version that I condensed for transport ease.”

  “What?” I glare at him. “What the fuck, Geoffrey? What does that mean?”

  “It means in about thirty seconds you’ll probably rape your way through the entire ship.”

  I blink at him. “I’d never.”

  “Oh, you don’t know how powerful this stuff is.”

  As if by magic a burning sensation coils in my groin and I press my thighs together.

  “It’s starting, Captain, shall I stay with her?” Geoffrey asks carefully.

  “Nobody is staying with her,” Captain replies curtly. “Leave.”

  Geoffrey nods, bows slightly, apologises multiple times and walks out.

  I squirm as Captain rubs my skin under the cuffs with Vaseline. “So they don’t chafe.”

  “Oh my God, everything burns…” I twist and turn, holding onto the bar as I cross my legs this way and that. “God… I can’t… can you just…?”

  He stands and rolls his eyes. “You’re way more trouble than you’re worth.”

  “Fuck you,” I shout after him, relieved when he leaves.

  This has to be a dream.

  My body feels like a boiling kettle, any second now my ears will start whistling with steam.