Swashbuckling in the Dark

Chapter Twenty-Five

If only it could be simple.

I'd already lost count of the minutes I'd been standing idly in the corridor, too cowardly to raise my fist and knock. I'd devised and cast aside a few speeches already, opting to take everything in stride. I thought it might feel more sincere if I said what was on my mind rather than reciting rehearsed words.

With a groan, I forced my feet forward to the door. My fist, suddenly weighing tons, moved swiftly towards the wooden surface. I would never find out if courage won out; my knuckles never hit the door.

The captain's cabin door swung open, the man himself strolling out. His head down, he didn't notice I was there. My closed fist smacked against his chest twice, startling both of us.

"Oh, sorry..." I muttered, my knuckles resting against his clavicle.

He cleared his throat. "Zaina," he said brusquely. He casually brushed my hand away and sidestepped past me.

My hand slapped to his shoulder, stopping him. "Wait. In here," I ordered, yanking him backwards into the cabin.

"Never been forced into my own cabin before," he jested, spinning around.

"This is important," I insisted, taking a seat in front of his desk.

"Hm." He strolled to the opposite side, sitting and throwing his booted feet up on the cluttered surface. "Well to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Inhaling deeply, I sought out the courage that had eluded me earlier. "We need to talk about the storage room the other day."

Dark's eyes flashed with warning. "I assure you, it's perfectly sound. My ship doesn't leak."

I scowled. "You know that's not what I meant."

Dark shook his head. "Everything you said to me will be kept in confidence, you have my word."

"That's not what—"

"I'll keep the rest in confidence, as well. I won't damage your reputation, love."

Leaning forward, I slammed my fist on his desk, rattling an inkwell. It teetered dangerously before I reached out and nabbed it, steadying the glass. Meeting his eyes squarely, I could see the amusement flickering in the dark irises over the memory.

"Be serious, for once," I growled, staring him down. "And listen to me."

Two dark brows rose. He fixed a smile on his face that was a shade too cheerful. "I'm listening."

I eased back into the chair, my fist sliding off the desk. "It's not your trust," I lasered him with my gaze, "or you running your mouth that concerns me."

He chuckled in response. "I'm not much of a gossip." He schooled his features back into a serious expression. "What did you come here to tell me?"

"I haven't told you the whole story," I said in a rush. "And I don't want to keep things from you. I want to be with you. So here goes."

Without thinking, I sprung to my feet and spun like a coil released, reaching back to hike up my shirt and bare my back for the second time. By the time my mind caught up with me, it was too late to go back. I cringed as I was met with stunned silence from the other side of the desk.

My arms felt stiff from holding my shirt up, but they refused to lower. An eternity passed before the sound of a chair being scraped back reached my ears. He stood right behind me, but still I didn't budge.

His hand very gently touched my shoulder. "Zaina."

Something snapped to life inside my brain, and my body went from being motionless to kicking into overdrive. I turned about and grabbed his shirt collar, clenching my hands so hard it hurt. My mouth crashed against his hard enough to bruise, our bodies colliding with force. If my sudden assault startled him, he took it remarkably well.