4. Chapter 4

With a fake bravado, I make my way out of my cabin. There’s a slight sway to the ship, and even though I’m still sure this is some messed up dream, I say a silent prayer that I’m not feeling seasick from the ship”s motion.

“You’re a real idiot, Killer!” A rough, deep voice calls out before the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh reaches my ears. Just the sound of that tone is doing things to my body. My very empty and suddenly incredibly needy pussy clenches as if it recognizes the sound. When I push through a door out onto the deck, the sunlight blinds me momentarily.

Before I can blink to bring everything into focus, a long arm wraps around my waist and pulls me into a strange yet somehow familiar chest. When my eyes adjust, I look at the most devilishly sexy face I’ve ever seen… or made up. The stranger looks down at me with a sneaky grin, a nearly burnt-out cigarette hanging from his lips.

His grass-green eyes crinkle at the side with mirth before he spits out the butt, and his mouth descends on mine. My shock has me frozen until his tongue delves into my mouth. My arms move of their own accord, wrap around his shoulders and pull him closer.

The only thing I can blame is that this is a dream… right? Surely, if this is a figment of my overactive imagination, then kissing this red-headed, naughty stranger won’t have any lasting consequences. Other than the tingle kissing him causes. My previously empty core now feels more than a little damp.

“Mornin’ captain,” he murmurs against my lips after we surface for air. “Sleep well?”

Even though my heart is racing and I’m breathless, I respond with a noncommittal hum before pressing my hands against his chest and pushing him back. This dream follows the storyline I set up in my work-in-progress last night. That means I have a job to do.

“What’s happening here?”

The stranger I’d just played tonsil hockey with stands up a little straighter and pulls away from me completely. His grin is still present on his face. The twinkle in his eye and that unmistakable side-shave tell me it has to be Pete ‘Grin’ Jones. He is one of the men my FMC, Vixen, has taken up with after she took over the ship—The Siren’s Vengeance.

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty head over, Vixen.” Grin tries to appease me, earning him my scowl. He shrugs in response to my lack of amusement before stepping out of my way. “We’re handling it.”

My deleted words from last night come back to me as I hear that growly deep voice from earlier carry on shouting.

“What the ever-loving hell were you thinking?”

I now have a front-row view of what’s happening. And if his voice turns me on, that is nothing compared to what looking at him does to me.

Jack ‘Wolf’ Cutter is six feet, three inches of pure muscle. Every single inch of him—except his face—is covered in a myriad of tattoos. He looks exactly as I’d described him. Long, thick, white blonde hair tied up in a messy tail. The side of his head is entirely clean-shaven, and there too, his skin is painted with a geometric pattern Vixen has taken immense pleasure in tracing after he’s fucked her senseless.

A long scar cuts through his right eyebrow and runs down his cheekbone. I’ve had Vixen describe his ice-blue eyes as harsh, emotionless, and tactical. Unless he is looking at her. When Wolf looks at Vixen, his eyes soften and fill with an adoration that melts her heart and panties.

I clear my throat, and those same blue eyes shoot toward me. My heart stutters. Fucking stops and then slowly comes back to life. He’s even more stunning than I’d pictured him. And the second he looks at me, it really does happen. All the hard and cold leaves his face and is replaced with so much tenderness.

Why the hell didn’t I write a sex scene right here? I could do with a romp in the bed with him and the redhead standing right next to me.

“What’s going on, Wolf?” The man in question frowns at my enquiry before looking back at the reason for the commotion.

The ship’s previous captain.

“He was trying to start a mutiny,” Wolf growls in such a low voice I have to strain to hear him. “Obviously, his brain’s been addled by too much grog because no one was willing to join him.”

A deep laugh rumbles from my chest as my eyes take in the idiot standing in front of Wolf.

I’ve always had a thing for the bad guy. And there is nothing quite as exciting as reading a good enemies-to-lovers. But try as I might, standing here in front of the man, knowing I have to go through the whole tension-turn-into-romance thing, I’m a little less inclined to give in to it.

Maybe I should let them do their thing and have him walk the plank.

Drake ‘Killer’ Packard is everything all the good girls always dream about—the bad boy who corrupts you so well. I might have used good old Johnny Depp as inspiration when I wrote him, and I’m not all that mad at it. The only difference is that Killer doesn’t have much of a sense of humour. His scowl has been known to cower plenty of his enemies.

“So, what was your plan?” I ask, still unsure of what I need to do next. I can go with my original plan of watching him walk the plank. The words were still fresh in my head, and maybe after that, I’ll wake up in bed refreshed and ready to write the story I’m really supposed to.

My pussy does not want to do that. We want to take these men for at least one ride around the block before we join the land of the living again.

The problem is, I don’t know what else to do. How the hell can I redeem the irredeemable pirate captain who can’t stand the fact that I’ve won the hearts of his crew?

He doesn’t respond to my question, and the brazen way he stands there staring at me, pushes me towards the gangplank side of the equation.

“Ma’am,” a wizened old pirate calls from behind Killer. I take in his appearance, trying to place him, and when he grins at me, showing me his toothless smile, I remember him immediately.

“Yeah, Bill?”

“He knows the rules as well as any other man on this crew. I dare say even more so as he was the one that done made them all.”

“Your point, Bill?” I ask when the old man says nothing else, even though I know exactly what he will say.

“The punishment for mutiny, captain. He has to walk the plank.”

It seems my time to come up with a resolution has now run out. The near-permanent frown on Killer’s face is almost enough to have me give the men the permission to make him take that final, short walk.

Until I look around at the faces of those around me. Most of them seem in agreement with Bill. But the two most important men, the ones that Vixen has fallen in love with throughout the book, their faces show grief.

Which makes total sense. I’d written the three of them to be best friends.

“Is this still my ship?” I call out over the rising murmur of the men on the deck. My voice instantly silences them.

“Aye, captain!” comes back the instant response from all of them.

“Then Killer stays!”

I’m met with a sea of confused faces. I can’t really blame them. I’m confused, too. I’ve gone entirely off-script, and there is absolutely no plot or storyline in mind. I’ve no fucking clue what the hell I’m going to do next.

“Throw him in the brig!” I order before turning around and heading back to my cabin. I need to regroup and figure out what step to take next. Maybe even take a pirate or two for a ride. “Wolf, Grin, join me, please,” I throw over my shoulder as I push through the large wooden door I’d come out of earlier.

There’s a scuffle behind me—presumably, the men tying up Killer so they can lock him up.