Jewel of the Sea [Black Sails]

Chapter Six

(Charles)

The Atlas had shown up in Nassau about a fortnight ago and brought with her, a reliable crew. Every member of the crew aboard the Atlas was a skilled fighter. They kept mostly to themselves and had picked up a few crew members on the island. I'd taken an interest right away hoping to sway some of their crew to join me instead, but everyone I had approached was loyal to their towering giant of a captain. My gaze was drawn from my dwindling bottle of rum as I noticed a familiar head of long pale nearly white hair, like the white-hot sand of the beaches of Nassau, Alira.

Ever since I first laid eyes on her, as she calmly slaughtered several men in a brothel without breaking a sweat, she'd piqued my interest. Her bright jade eyes held a darkness within them, the eyes of one who walked with death. I'd never seen such eyes on one so young, she couldn't be more than eighteen or nineteen years of age and already had the eyes of a killer, always calculating, looking for weakness, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. On a whim, I'd followed her the night I'd first laid eyes on her hoping to find answers, but I only had more questions. I wanted to know more about the girl.

From our few encounters I learned she had a sharp tongue, a foul mouth, hated accepting help from others, and kept her true feelings hidden behind a mask of fire and anger. I left some coin at the table and ducked out of the pub curious as to what she was doing. The last I'd seen her, she was torturing her crew's Quartermaster on the beach, which only raised more questions.

I stepped out of the pub into the late afternoon heat and ducked between drunks, marketgoers and several ladies of the night trying to get another glimpse of her. My gaze fell on her ethereal moonbeam hair, she was a few seller stalls ahead of me and wore a scowl across her comely face. Had she been born into a family of better means, she'd fit the role of princess easily. There was a regality about her, she had a commanding presence and didn't hesitate to talk down to men. As I drew nearer, I felt something stir within me and paused as I took in her current appearance.

She was barefoot and wearing a long white skirt that was bunched up to one side to reveal a good portion of her sculpted left leg. Once again, she was weaponless. The deep jade green corset molded to her voluptuous curves in sinful ways drawing the gaze of every male in the vicinity. It revealed a nice amount of cleavage and barely fell far enough down to reach the top of her skirt causing her sun kissed hip bones to poke out. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Her bare arms were perfectly chiseled, defined by muscles resulting from years of vigorous training. Though she was small and petite, her entire body was hardened from her grueling training.

Every time someone glanced her way or made some kind of comment or catcall, her scowl grew. I'd never seen her in a skirt before, she seemed to prefer dressing in what most would consider men's fashion wearing pants instead, probably because it was easier for her to move and fight in. An inebriated man from some no name crew approached her with a slurred comment and attempted to put an arm around her. Her body reacted instinctively, she caught his arm and flipped him over her shoulder before falling atop him pressing her knee into his throat. She spat something at him that I couldn't quite make out and I chuckled to myself as the man paled.

Another man approached her apparently not deterred by her display of combat prowess. It was obvious from watching how flawless her movements were that she'd had formal training. There wasn't any wasted movement, every strike was perfectly calculated and executed. She attacked the second man with a snarl of rage, delivering a powerful hit to his sternum before jumping into the air and spinning gracefully kicking him in the side of the head with enough force he flew into a nearby stack of crates. She landed gracefully, her jade green eyes burning with fire as she glared at the growing crowd of people as if daring any of them to challenge her.