Chapter Three: The Pirate Captive 🔞🔞

The storm raged like a living beast, its fury unrelenting as it tore across the black water. Waves towered and broke with crushing force, slamming against the sides of the merchant vessel until the ship groaned and shuddered as if it might break apart at any moment. Lanterns swung wildly from their hooks, casting frantic arcs of light before darkness swallowed them again. The deck was slick with rain and seawater, ropes lashed the planks like angry serpents, and sailors shouted commands that vanished into the roar of the storm.

Lady Evelyn Harcourt clung to the railing, her soaked gown dragging heavy against her legs, the cold sinking deep into her bones. She tried to steady her breathing, tried to cling to reason, but the sea was too wild, too cruel, and her world was reduced to survival. Her lips formed a silent prayer as lightning cracked open the sky in a blinding white scar.

Then it came. A cry so sharp, so filled with terror that it cut through the storm.

“Pirates!”

Evelyn’s heart lurched into her throat.

Through the curtains of rain and the flashes of lightning, a monstrous shape loomed. A ship, darker than the sea itself, rose from the storm like a predator stalking its prey. Its sails were torn yet vast, its hull scarred by battle, and high above, a black flag whipped in the wind. The emblem was unmistakable. A skull grinning like death itself.

The pirates had found them.

Cannons thundered. The deck exploded in splinters as wood shattered and men screamed. Smoke and fire bit through the salt air, mixing with the howl of the wind. Evelyn staggered back as bodies tumbled into the waves, their cries lost in the ocean’s rage.

The two vessels crashed together with a groan that rattled her bones. Grappling hooks flew, chains tightened, and like demons released from the pit, the pirate horde swarmed aboard. Their faces were twisted with madness, their eyes bloodshot, their mouths split in feral grins. Some were missing teeth, some were smeared with scars, and all of them carried blades that glistened in the rain.

They descended with savage joy, cutting down sailors without hesitation. The merchant crew fought bravely, but they were no match. Evelyn pressed her hands to her ears, the clash of steel and the guttural screams battering her senses until she could hardly breathe. She stumbled against a crate, her skirts dragging through blood that washed thinly with the rain.

Before she could retreat, two pirates closed in on her. Their hands seized her arms, rough and merciless, fingers biting through soaked fabric into her flesh. She screamed and thrashed, her slipper catching on the planks as they dragged her forward.

“Bring her to the Captain!” one shouted, his voice guttural and sure.

Terror wrapped around her chest like an iron band, making every breath sharp and painful. She twisted, nails scraping at the hands that gripped her, but they only laughed and hauled her across the deck.

And then the air shifted.

The crew’s chaos stilled for a heartbeat as he appeared.

Captain Lucien Drake.

He stepped through the storm as though it parted for him. A tall, commanding figure clad in black leather that gleamed under the rain. His long coat snapped in the wind, his boots struck the deck with unyielding weight, and his hair, dark and wild, clung to his face in damp strands. But it was his eyes that rooted Evelyn where she stood. Blacker than the storm, deeper than the sea, they locked on her with a hunger that made her blood run cold.

The pirates drew back at his presence, like wolves bowing to the alpha.

Her captors shoved her forward until she nearly fell at his feet.

“Leave her,” he commanded, his voice low, gravel rough, carrying a power that silenced them instantly.

The hands on her arms released at once. Evelyn stumbled, her knees weakening, but before she could collapse he caught her chin in his gloved hand. His grip was unyielding, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. Rain streaked between them, the storm roaring on, yet the only thing she could hear was the sound of her own heart hammering in her ears.

“A fine prize,” he murmured, his words dragging slow as though he savored each one. “Do you know who I am?”

Her lips trembled. She tried to answer, but no sound came.

“You do,” he said for her, a cruel smile curling his mouth. “Good. Then you already understand. Fear will not save you. Nothing will.”

The pirates erupted into jeers and laughter. One man shouted over the storm, “Captain, let us have her first!” Another whistled lewdly, gesturing toward the soaked gown that clung to Evelyn’s body. Their voices were knives against her ears, cutting her dignity to pieces.

The smile vanished from Lucien’s face.

In one swift motion, he drew his pistol. The shot cracked like thunder, and the ball struck the deck beside the speaker’s boot, splinters flying into the air. Silence fell so heavy it seemed even the storm hushed for a moment.

“She is mine,” he said, his voice sharp as steel. “Touch her, and you lose your hands.”

No one dared laugh again.

Lucien’s gaze returned to Evelyn, and she could not move under it. His hand slid from her chin to her wrist, his grip possessive, his claim unquestionable.

“You belong to me now.”

She shook her head, words caught between terror and disbelief, but he paid no heed. He dragged her forward, forcing her across the deck littered with the bodies of fallen men. Her slippers slid in blood and rain, her skirts tangled around her ankles, yet his hold never faltered. The remaining sailors from her vessel had already dropped their weapons. Their surrender left her no hope.

The pirates parted as he led her to the plank that bridged the two ships. They watched with eyes burning like embers, some smirking, some licking their lips, but none dared step forward. They knew better than to challenge their captain.

Evelyn’s breath came fast and shallow as she was pulled onto the pirate ship. Up close it was more terrible than she could have imagined. The sails loomed like black wings, the rigging creaked with ominous weight, and the smell of gunpowder, salt, and sweat choked the air. The storm seemed to cling to this vessel as though it were its rightful home.

Lucien dragged her below deck, through narrow passages lined with doors that rattled with drunken voices and the sharp stench of rum. His grip on her wrist was unrelenting, her arm aching with the force of it. She stumbled to keep pace, her slipper catching on the uneven boards, her wet skirts leaving a trail behind her.

At last, he stopped before a door at the far end of the passage. He shoved it open and pulled her inside.

The captain’s quarters were vast compared to the cramped bunks she had glimpsed outside. Candlelight flickered across maps spread wide on a massive desk, weapons gleamed in their racks, and an iron chest stood against the wall. Yet what dominated the room was the bed. Large, draped with black sheets and furs, it looked less like a place to sleep and more like a lair.

Lucien closed the door and turned the key. The click of the lock sealed her fate.

Evelyn stood dripping on his rug, clutching the front of her gown in a feeble attempt at modesty, her breaths shallow, her heart beating so violently it shook her frame.

Lucien’s eyes roved over her slowly, deliberately, as though he meant to strip her without touching her. Hunger glowed in his gaze, dark and savage.

“You can cover yourself, little dove,” he said, his tone low and thick with desire, “but it will not matter. You are mine. Every inch of you belongs to me.”

Her lips parted, words tangling in her throat, but nothing emerged. He closed the distance between them, his presence suffocating, his shadow swallowing her whole.

With a swift tug, he caught the ribbon at her bodice and pulled it loose. The soaked fabric gave way, sliding down her shoulders with slow inevitability. She gasped, clutching at the gown, but his hand covered hers, pressing it aside with deliberate force.

The pale swell of her breasts rose into the candlelight, droplets of water glistening across her skin. His breath grew heavier, his eyes burning with a hunger that no storm could quench.

He leaned close, his lips brushing the curve of her ear, his voice a dark whisper.

“Tonight,” he murmured, “you will learn what it means to be the captive of Captain Drake.”