Steaming Desire - Melissa Young

Chapter Two - Kiara

Listening to the soft waves that rocked us along with my feet tapping against the bottom board of the small boat, I sucked on my lower lip and fidgeted with my fingers. Nobody said anything for the whole time we had been stuck in there. I sat opposite the men in the small boat. They remained tied up and sitting in the back on a thin plank. The blond man had his legs almost pressed against his chest.
"I am not going to hurt you more, I just needed you to follow me." I could feel the edges of my lips rising in a pathetic smile. "So you can, you know, stop protecting your dick." Marcus pulled the oars toward himself again, and the boat moved forward a few feet. The blond man's upper lip trembled, and his nose scrunched up.
"Do you know how fucking hard you kicked me?" My smile rose higher, but I forced it down.
"Don't swear at me." I tightened my jaw and placed a hand on the small knife in my side pocket.
"No, fuck you. You are an asshole." The darker man smirked with a devilish flame in his eyes. I sighed and stood up. Marcus looked like he had a hard time steering the boat with me standing, but he knew better than to tell me to sit down.
I walked over to him on unsteady legs. Pulling the knife out of my pocket, I sat down in front of him and placed it right under his chin. He lifted his head, away from the blade, but I allowed it to remain pressed to his delicate skin.
"What is your name?" His chuckle came out dark, but he didn't answer. I took the knife from his throat and held the blade pressed against his cheek. "Answer me?" I taunted.
His eyes turned darker, but he still didn't answer. "You don't think I can cut you, do you?" I removed the blade from his skin again and held it in front of him. His eyes focused on the beautiful, handcrafted knife in my hand, and his pupils dilated the briefest of moments. I could feel the smile spread on my face,
"No, that is not it. You like knives, don't you?" He pressed his lips together, and I knew I was right.
I sat back down and tapped the knife to my lower lip, I could work with that. It could be a perfect torture method, finding out how much he could take could be fun.
The blonde man stayed quiet the rest of the ride, and the dark man kept muttering profanities under his breath.
Marcus and Casper almost threw the two men onto the ship, and the darker of the two tried to scream something, but his sentence was cut short by the involuntary bite he took out of the deck.
I fetched a big bucket along with a bowl filled with salt water and brought it down with them. We threw their fighting bodies in the same cell under deck, not because they seemed to have any kind of bond, but because it was the one cell that didn't have massive holes in it. It was the cell furthest into the long room, covered in moss and the metal beams were by the narrowest of margins attached to the rotten floor underneath them. It was dark and smelled like mold. The wood had turned a burned amber color after all those years.
I stepped into the cell when they were in, closed the door behind me, and it locked. "I am going to clean them up, I will be with you in a moment," I told Marcus and Casper. They shrugged and left me alone with these men. I let the hood drop from my head and turned toward them. They were sitting on the small bench, still holding protective hands over the worst injuries. I put the bowl down beside the blond man, since he seemed to be the less aggressive one.
"What are you going to do with us?" I untied my cloak and twirled it into a tight roll. Dipping one end in the salty water and twisting out most of it.
"We need you," I looked at the dark man. He leaned his head back against the metal beams, and it made a rattling sound.
"For what?" The man next to him asked. I sighed and bit my lower lip. I held the cloak tight and stepped in front of the dark haired man. Squatting down in front of him, I reached up to remove his hand from his injured nose.
"I didn't mean to hurt you this bad," I told him while ignoring the question on purpose. "But if you had just listened, I wouldn't have to." I reached up to remove the blood from his nose, but he stood up and walked to the other side of the room. The action startled me, but I didn't flinch. "Come here," I sighed and stood up again.
"No, fuck that," he folded his arms in front of his chest. I threw the cloak on the man behind me and pulled out the small key from my pocket. Opening the door, they didn't make a move.
"Don't even think about fleeing, we are in the middle of the ocean." That was, of course, still a lie, but they didn't have to know that. I locked the door and turned to leave, "You know, I was trying to be nice and help you, but since you don't want my help. You can stay here and lick your own wounds like the pathetic little puppies you are." The heavy door to the cell closed behind me with a loud bang.
I could almost feel the steam reeking from my ears as I took the steps to the main deck two at a time.
"There she is," Casper yelled over the chattering on deck. "Your orders, miss?" I drew my eyebrows together, my orders? Casper seemed to understand my confusion because he continued, "The Captain is drowning in paperwork now that the mission is complete, he didn't think you would succeed, so he had to do that stuff now." It sounded weird, had I ever failed him?
I raised my eyebrows in an attempt to get him to continue. "He wanted you to take over for a little while since you did most of the work and when we were out of this place, he wanted to see you." A shiver of excitement trickled up my spine and a slow smile spread across my face.
"All right, everybody," I clapped my hands together twice and the talking stopped, they all turned to me. Dropping my smile, I walked toward the stairs. "The Captain has given me the responsibility to get us out of here."
I took three steps up the creaking stairs and turned back to the small crowd. "Charleston and Brown on the anchor, Carmichael on the top sail of the foremast, you will be accompanied by..." I tapped my pointer finger and middle finger against my lower lip while my sentence trailed off. "... Jonson," I decided at last.
"Wilson in the crow's nest as usual." I chewed on my tongue, "Proceed." The men shattered in every direction and did as told. The one man left was James Davies, I sighed.
His mere presence made my blood boil, "You can take the mizzenmast, my task." I watched as Wilson climbed the teetering net on the mizzenmast on his way to the crow's nest, in an attempt to avoid James' gaze.
I could see in the corner of my eye that James changed the point of center to his other foot and dragged a hand through his messy hair. "Proceed, James. Proceed." I clicked my tongue and turned to walk up the stairs, loving the opportunity to boss him around for the first time.
"What are you going to do?" He asked, talking with a slow, deep tone. I assumed that the anger surged through his body at having to take my orders.
I sighed, his voice was like nails on a chalkboard, "Well somebody needs to steer her, don't you think?" I didn't turn back to him, just continued up the stairs.
My hands reached for the huge helm and found the splintered wood. I took a strong hold of two knobs with both my hands. Looked around on the ship, curious whether the crew would use the same language as if I were their captain, and turned the helm in my hand.
"Anchor up, Miss," William Brown called to me from across the ship. He held an open hand over his head with his pointer finger to his forehead in a formal gesture. I gave him a quick nod and turned toward the man in the crow's nest.
"Wilson?" My voice, stern as I shouted the name. While he looked at the map in his hands, I turned my attention back to the two men by the anchor. "You two can start to prepare dinner."
"Aye, aye," they chanted in unison before they proceeded. A large sail unfolded in the front of the boat, and it accepted the wind without any problems. Feeling a strong pinch erupt from the pit of my stomach, I had to work fast from here.
"The other sails," I yelled to the people responsible for that particular task. If the rest of the sails didn't unfold in the next seconds, the foremast could crack from the pressure. We had made it a habit to tell each other when to unfold, so nothing like this ever happened as they unfolded in unison, but now there was no turning back, the wind too strong to fight against.
My eyes roamed the deck and focused on James, right in the middle. He struggled with the heavy ropes and the stress didn't do him any good. If the other sails didn't take some wind soon, we would be in big trouble.
I let the helm go and ran down the still slippery stairs. My feet carried me to James' side. Pushing him out of the way, I took a firm hold of the rope. I pulled it with a quick but powerful tug, and it gave in.
The rope moved away from the thick wooden knob like a snake from a tree. It flew upwards to compliment the weight of the sail, and the biting pain reached my shoulders. I planted my feet on the deck and the heavy sails unfolded one after one.
"Now!" I yelled, and in the corner of my eye I saw that the sail behind me unfolded too. The beams bounced on the weak ropes, I was thankful when they didn't break.
The wind picked up the heavy fabric and moved us forward. I sat down on my knees, that could have ended in a disaster. Sitting there for a little while, just imagining the dangers if I hadn't stepped in, and that was when I remembered.
"What the fuck, James," I stood up and turned to him, his eyes filled with shame and glossed over. "Why can't you be more responsible?" He swallowed hard, the deep Adam's apple in his throat bobbing as he did, before he looked down at his feet. I pitched the bridge of my nose, disappointed by his irresponsibility.
"Dinner," William called and sat down by the large table that they had already pulled out and placed utensils on, cutting off my scolding. I rolled my eyes and strode for the big pot.