Saved By The Pirate (Book One)

18. Dirty Dishes For A Dirty Pirate

What would you do if you saw the all-mighty pirate captain bleed? Scream? Faint? Question humanity? Well, after gasping, I almost did all three.

"I send you to get wood," I said, "and you come back with your cheek almost ripped open? What, does the wood not like you either?" I wasn't sure if I was making a joke or if I was serious. It was hard to tell.

"There are a lot of people in this world who don't like me, so I wouldn't be surprised if you find that objects feel the same way, but in this case, no, the wood did not hurt me."

I rose my brow. "Then please explain."

Christopher walked to the furnace, knelt, and began to toss the wood in the flaming embers. "Well, Skip happened."

"How! He's behind bars!" I exclaimed.

"He got a hold of a shard of glass and threw it at me."

I thought about the glass bottles that were near the cell. I almost missed them and that cell in general because of how many boxes and crates were in that little room, but I didn't think much of it since I never thought it was going to get used. At least, when I was around.

And I didn't think to tell Christopher about the bottles. I probably should've told him now, but I kind of wanted him to suffer a little.

"Oh?" I said, biting the inside of my cheek. "How unfortunate."

He threw a log into the fire. "Indeed, I just can't figure out how he got a hold of that glass. Did you see any when you were down there?"

Yes, they were behind the sacks carelessly thrown in the corner where a few bottles were hiding, but go ahead, you seadog, and keep wondering.

"No," I said with a smile when he wasn't looking. "I didn't see anything, especially near the cell."

"Hmm. I'll have to go looking for it then if Skip doesn't throw anything else at me, but for now, do you mind?" He said, gesturing to his cheek.

I rolled my eyes, ordered him in a chair, and went to fetch a stray cloth and a bottle of alcohol I found lying about the gallery. Christopher was sitting in a chair at a table when I turned around. I wetted the fabric.

"I'm going to make it all better," I cooed, with an evil grin. Oh, how I was going to enjoy this.

"I hope so, I'm just glad this isn't like getting stabbed in the foot," he said with a devilish grin. He looked me right in the eye. "I know you find pleasure in this part."

Oh, how I wanted just to pour the whole bottle on his face and watch him scream.

"Why do look... constipated. Are you well?" It was only then when I realized I was holding my breath.

I blinked. "This is my 'try not to kill you' face actually, but hey, if you prefer dying, just let me know. I can help you with that," I said, placing the bottle down on the table and sitting down.

"Funny, I could have sworn that ye looked like you had to-" I pressed the cloth to his cheek, making him moan. Ah, music to my ears. A smirk curled it's way up my lips. I wiped a little of the blood off his cheek and then pulled back.

"You were saying, Captain?" I said, laughing. Christopher's usual happy face turned to stone. He furrowed his brows.

"If you do that again when I'm not ready you will-"

I pressed the cloth back to his cheek, he moaned, and I laughed. Oh, the joys of pain. I pulled away.

"Sorry, I didn't quite get that, can you say that again?"