Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

FEbrUARY 2ND, 1667

R owan wasn't in the mood for drinks or noise or chit chat, but he found himself surrounded by people anyway. It had been more than a month since they'd arrived in Wave Harbor, and Rowan had barely left the Siren Song in all that time. Logan had admonished him for "brooding" before he'd left to try to track Cyrus down, and he must have given Fox the task of getting Rowan out of his isolation because that little shit had practically dragged Rowan, along with Ga?l, Robin, and Henri, out to a dockside tavern that was absolutely bursting with other pirates.

Of course Fox and Ga?l had absconded somewhere or another almost as soon as they got there. No doubt they were fooling around in some not-so-dark corner. He was happy for them. Really. They were in love and whatever feelings being back here had conjured up, they seemed to be handling it well.

That left Robin and Henri, who were unfortunately no better company. Rowan sipped his mead, letting the honey-sweet alcohol burn the back of his tongue as he watched Henri and Robin make moon eyes at each other. He was starting to get a headache, and his vision was playing tricks on him again, unfortunately an all too common occurrence since he'd lost his eye. Robin had said it wasn't unheard of for those who lost eyes to see things that weren't there, similar to the phantom pain of losing a limb.

Around them, pirates from all over the Islands drank, sang, flirted, and fought. As a seafarer, there was nothing much else to do in the winter than this.

Logan was still out tracking down their leads on Cyrus, Fox and Ga?l were pawing at each other, and Henri and Robin were in their own little world. Rowan may as well be alone in the crowd of his fellows.

Rowan had never really been lonely before, not even when he'd first been indentured to the navy. But he was now without…

"—eep Water Demon."

Rowan's gaze zeroed in on the woman who'd spoken the name. She was pretty, with bronzed brown skin and coily black hair that puffed up around her face like a cloud. She was dressed in black from head to toe with a red sash around her waist and a pair of ebony handled pistols at her hips. Her bare forearms were banded with the same sea serpent tattoos as Henri, and many other sailors of Yarene heritage, had. A form of protection from the ravages of the sea. She held court over a cadre of other pirates at a table not far from Rowan, her presence among them like a queen with her lowly subjects.

And she was talking about Yves. Rowan got up and sidled closer. Henri and Robin didn't notice that he'd left, too busy with each other.

"The Kraken is wintering at sea, and they're not slowing down either. I tell you it was like nothing I've ever seen. We were in the middle of a storm, but they still took on an Avardellan merchant. It was brutal. The Demon…" Her voice trailed off, and her eyes flicked up to where Rowan had inadvertently drifted too close, drawn by the flame of news about Yves.

The woman's gaze roved over him, lingering on the eyepatch and the still-fresh scars on his face. Then she smiled.

"So the Ghost Hawk has decided to join the land of the living finally." She took a sip of something that looked like spiced rum from a glass that was definitely too nice to have come from the tavern. "Have you come to hear about the exploits of the craziest bastard of us all?"

"Yes," Rowan answered. He'd told himself that he didn't need news of what or how Yves was doing, but that was just one of the many lies he'd been telling himself for months.

"Well then, take a seat, handsome." She snapped her fingers at one of the pirates who immediately vacated their seat. Rowan took it and set his cup of mead on the table. The woman leaned forward and held out her hand to shake. "I'm Zanta."

Ah. Splinter Zanta, the captain of the Monsoon . She was famous in the Sunrise Sea near Yarene and had gotten her nickname when she'd led a mutiny against her previous captain, Silver Stroud, and driven a large splinter through his heart, killing him. Rumor had it she still kept the bloodied splinter mounted over her bed.

Rowan took her hand and shook it. "Ghost Hawk," he introduced himself, even though Splinter Zanta seemed to already know who he was.

"I hear you've made some powerful enemies." Zanta swiped her thumb across his knuckles before releasing him. "By the looks of you, those rumors were right."

Rowan grimaced. It was the first time he'd been out in public since losing his eye. He resisted the urge to touch the eyepatch uncertainly.

"Unfortunately it seems that the law has caught up with me," he said, trying to play it off. "But what's this about the Demon sailing through the winter? Why?"

"Fuck if I know. I wouldn't want to be out there with that crazy bastard right now. He seemed… I'm not usually superstitious, but he seemed almost possessed. I could hear him laughing, and I don't think they even got any plunder. He just wanted to destroy the other ship. By the time they were done, there was nothing but debris floating in the waves." An almost imperceptible shiver ran through the listeners. The Deep Water Demon already had a reputation for brutality even among other pirates, but this seemed excessive.

Rowan frowned. Yes, Yves was known for brute strength, but he was also smart. Sailing into a storm on purpose and taking on another ship right in the middle of it? Destroying a ship so utterly that they couldn't plunder it? That wasn't like the Yves he knew. Yves was cold and calculated, and that served his particular brand of violence well.

So what had happened?

"That's not—" Rowan stopped himself before he could say more. But a spark of interest flashed in Zanta's eyes, and she leaned forward, propping her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand.

"That's not what? Do you know something, Ghost Hawk?"

Rowan remained silent, crossing his arms. Zanta's eyes flicked to the pirates surrounding them then back to him.

"Leave us," she said, low and commanding. With a little hesitation, the other pirates faded into the crowd. Zanta tilted her head where it still rested on her hand. "Tell me," she said quietly. "Tell me what you were going to say."

"It's nothing." Rowan tried to keep his expression neutral, but he must have given something away, because Zanta's eyes narrowed.

"You know him." It was a statement this time, not a question.

"Yes," Rowan admitted quietly. "We were…are rivals of sorts."

Zanta whistled. "Rivals… You've fought him before?"

"Yes."

"And who came out on top?"

Rowan nearly choked on his drink, but Zanta seemed not to notice the suggestive nature of her words. Of course she didn't. Who would assume that the Ghost Hawk and the Deep Water Demon had ended up in a weeks-long affair after practically destroying each other out on the open sea?

"It was a draw."

Zanta whistled again. Impressed. "I can't say that's expected. But considering you're here in front of me and not rotting at the bottom of the sea, I suppose it makes sense." Her expression grew serious, and she leaned closer to him over the table. She looked genuinely frightened. "A bit of advice, captain-to-captain, don't go looking for him now. He's…different. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like he's no longer human."

But why? Had something happened to him after Rowan left? Or was it because he left? Rowan couldn't quite believe that. Whatever Rowan's own feelings for Yves might be, it still felt impossible that Yves might feel the same. The infamous Deep Water Demon wouldn't be driven to extremes by something as simple as a lover leaving him.

Would he?

Rowan didn't want to know any more. His temporary curiosity over Yves was sated, and he just wanted to forget about him and move on.

"I'll heed your advice as much as possible. Maybe he won't survive the winter." A sour feeling curled in his gut as Zanta laughed.

The two of them sat talking until their drinks were finished. They traded stories about their exploits. Zanta confirmed the legend that she had stabbed her former captain with a splinter through the heart.

"I suppose the nickname is earned then," Rowan said.

"I suppose it is. Is yours?"

Rowan laughed. "I'm not sure. Do I look ghost-like? Or hawkish?"

Zanta tilted her head, regarding him. They'd gotten closer as the conversation went on, and he could see her pupils dilate slightly as she looked at him.

"You know…" Zanta leaned in further, running her hand up his thigh, never breaking eye contact. "I admire your work. And you're quite handsome. Why don't you let me keep you company tonight, and maybe you can tell me how you lost your eye?"

She really was beautiful, her tan skin and black leathers gleaming in the torchlight. His eye flicked down to her soft-looking lips which were slightly parted. Awaiting his answer.

An image sprang unbidden to his mind. Yves asleep and vulnerable at his side, pink lips still kiss-bitten. Yves in his dew-damp dressing gown in the morning mist. Yves watching him leave from the end of the dock at Illusion.

Rowan bit his lip, trying to mentally shove the unwelcome thoughts of Yves from his mind. He wasn't going to be drawn back into that devil's charms. He had to move on, and this would be a great opportunity to start. Nevermind that Splinter Zanta was another infamous pirate captain just like he and Yves. Baby steps.

Rowan placed his hand over hers, then ran his fingers lightly up her wrist. She was around the same height and build as Rowan, with added feminine curves in her hips and chest. She had a faint scar on her chin, but otherwise she was flawless from her head down to her heavy brass-buckled boots.

Zanta smiled and leaned forward, teasing him with the closeness of her lips.

"Shall we retire to the Monsoon ? Or will you let me take you here in front of our fellow rogues?"

Blood rushed to Rowan's dick. It seemed that he was developing a taste for the bold charms of other pirate captains. That was a bit concerning, but he'd worry about that later. He closed the gap between their bodies and kissed her instead of answering. She wasted no time in slipping her hand up his thigh, her thumb pressing the head of his rapidly hardening dick. He moved his hand from her wrist to her waist, and his tongue played with hers in the confines of her deliciously warm mouth. Her tongue tasted of spiced rum and the honey cakes she'd eaten, a crumb still peppering her lip.

He let a quiet moan vibrate in his throat. The bustle of their surroundings fell away. He hadn't slept with anyone since Yves, and his body responded enthusiastically to the end of this short drought.

Fuck. He shouldn't have thought about Yves. Zanta palmed his clothed cock.

"Should we go?" he asked. He wanted to fill his senses with her. He knew this would likely be a one-night stand, or a short fling for the time they were both in Wave Harbor, but it was the first step on his road to forgetting Yves.

Zanta nodded. She took his hand and led him out into the cold, crossing the docks quickly to the pirate ship dubbed Monsoon . They stopped at the base of the gangplank, and Zanta captured his lips in another deep kiss. He let his hands wander over the ample curve of her ass.

They stumbled up the gangplank and down a short hall to Zanta's quarters. Rowan's gaze flicked over the room, simple like his own, with trinkets dotting the shelves and a wide shelf bed along the far wall. She distinctly did not have the bloodied splinter mounted over it as the legends said.

A shimmer like water in sunlight caught the corner of his eye, but it was just his vision playing tricks on him again. He turned his attention back to Zanta, running his fingers up her back and letting her tongue explore his mouth. She broke the kiss.

"I warn you"—Zanta giggled—"I'm a selfish lover. So I hope you're good with that tongue of yours."

I'm a selfish man, Rowan.

Rowan blinked, trying to dislodge Yves's voice from his consciousness and focus on Zanta. She was the person before him, the person touching him. And she had never had the opportunity to hurt him.

Zanta licked his bottom lip playfully before taking his hand to lead him further into the room. The shimmer flashed in his vision again.

But his feet wouldn't move. It was as if they were frozen to the floorboards. But it wasn't a problem with his body. It was his mind that wouldn't let him follow this gorgeous woman to bed.

His mind was full of Yves.

Yves kissing him. Yves's hands demanding against his body. Yves giving him pleasures he'd never known before.

The desperation in Yves's voice as he asked Rowan to stay.

He couldn't do it. Zanta was beautiful, a cunning and fearsome pirate, and Rowan had no doubt sleeping with her would be glorious. But he couldn't. He couldn't exile Yves from his mind and heart. Was this what Fox was talking about? Was this inability to forget Yves love?

No. It couldn't be something so foolish as that.

But he wasn't yet able to move on.

"Hawk?" Zanta tilted her head questioningly. She tugged his hand.

"I'm sorry. I have to go." Rowan released her hand and turned to flee back to the Siren Song .

Rowan's erection still hadn't gone down by the time he made it back to his cabin on board the Siren . He couldn't get Yves out of his head. It was like he was under the spell of his seduction even when he wasn't here. It wasn't just that Yves had given him the best sex of his life over the few weeks they'd been together. It had been such a short time, but its impact in his life was proving disproportionately large. He feared that he would never be able to forget Yves's touch or the way he'd felt when they were together, the way they'd fit together. This yet-unnamed ache in his heart would persist forever.

Exactly as Fox said.

But while Fox had been able to forgive Ga?l for leaving him, Rowan didn't think he could forgive Yves's betrayal.

Still, his lips. His skin. The silken strands of his onyx hair and the black sparkling depths of his eyes haunted Rowan's waking and dreaming hours.

And finally Rowan gave in. He stripped down and climbed onto his frigidly lonely bed. The bed where he'd first felt the sweet agony of Yves's cock inside him. He closed his eyes, remembering Yves's throat squeezing his cock. Rowan's hand closed over his own hard length. He began pumping slowly, letting his mind conjure up whatever images it wanted. He hadn't allowed himself this pleasure since leaving Illusion. Maybe as punishment, maybe because he knew it would make his cravings for the other man worse.

Fuck, he should have just stayed with Zanta and let her take the lead so his mind could wander back to Yves.

But no, that would have been a disservice to her. She deserved a lover who would please her enthusiastically. Not someone who was hung up on another. Besides, if Rowan was going to torture himself, it may as well be by his own hand.

Rowan's hand moved faster as a litany of images flashed through his mind. He rolled to the side and retrieved the vial of lube Yves had left from that first night. There was still a bit left. Just enough. He slicked some over his cock, then used the rest on the fingers of his other hand. He slipped his fingers into the crease and felt his puckered entrance. He pushed one finger in slowly, imagining it was Yves instead. It was tight, no longer used to the near-daily invasion of Yves's cock. Rowan gasped and bit his lip.

He continued to stroke his cock with the other hand. His fingers pumped slowly in and out of his hole. But he couldn't quite reach the right spot from this angle. He rolled onto his knees, and tried again. His fingers made a lewd squelching sound as they entered him, and he thrust in and out in time with the strokes of his cock. Yves would've already had him writhing with pleasure. His long fingers would have already brought Rowan close to completion.

Fuck. It wasn't enough. Not only were his fingers too short to reach the spot he wanted but also nothing he did to himself could compare to how Yves touched and filled him.

Rowan grunted and withdrew his fingers. He rolled back onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He continued to stroke his dick, but his heart wasn't in it anymore, and soon enough he gave up.

Would he ever be able to have sex or pleasure himself again without Yves being at the forefront of his mind? Rowan smacked the mattress in frustration. He squeezed his eyes shut, seeing Yves's cruel, handsome face behind his eyelids.

"Fuck you," he whispered. "I'm not coming back."