Temptations

ɎChapter♠TwentyTwoɎ

 Elias could barely move his body. Every twitch felt like someone was holding a hot rod to his skin, stinging and burning his flesh over and over again. Never had he experienced such a torture. He'd held his own against knives, poison, starvation, dehydration, etc. But never had he been tortured in such a method; cooking under the sun dying of hunger and thirst with the ocean to taunt you until your last breath.

When Gaspar moved her hands over his chest he wanted to scream out in pain. He wanted to fall to the floor and wither into nothing because nothing doesn't feel pain. He wanted to cut off his own skin because maybe no skin was better than the pain. But he kept himself in check and managed to hide most of his pain, releasing only a small grunt.

At the moment, all Elias could think about was the food in front of him. The water slid down his throat, refreshing his parched tongue. The feel was so surprising he choked on it for a second before returning back to his meal.

"Slow down, Mr. Keen. I understand you're hungry, but you must take your time, or you'll throw it all up soon enough." Gaspar said, leaning against the desk. She watched him, brushing his hair out of his face with her sharp, iron nails.

As much as he hated to admit it, when they went through his hair he shivered with goosebumps. Noticing, she chuckled. "You like them? Had them specifically made in Russia." He glanced at her other hand, that rested on the desk beside his plate.

Her fingertips were covered with iron-like claws, sharp like an eagle's. They connected by a rod to a bracelet around her wrist, and when she moved them the bracelet moved with it, allowing for better movement. The flash image of her running those nails down his back had him gulping hard, both in arousal and fear do to the pain he currently felt. It later turned to disgust, that he'd think of such a thing about her.

Slowly, while he was focusing on her nails, she moved the plate out of reach and he felt his heart break slightly as he pouted. "There, there. Now it's time for our chat. Or do you want to go back to the post." He tensed at the thought.

"What do you want to know?" He asked and she rose her brows.

"Really? So easily? I figured you'd put up more of a fight." She gloated, moving to sit in her chair behind the desk.

"I've come to the realization that no matter how much of a fight I put, you'll either kill or torture me. So I might as well make it easier." She nodded.

"Completely agree."

"But don't think I won't fight you. I'll fight you at every chance I get. I will turn you in one day. This I promise." He said, glaring at her but she only responded with a cheshire grin.

"I'd expect nothing less." She kicked back her boots. "So are you ready to tell me?" He looked away, defeatedly but nodded.

"The Three Boats are under the command of Duke Howard. He's convinced Her Majesty that The Isle of Time is real and has recruited three captains to sail in his fleet." He cleared his throat, looking up at her like he knew she thought he was crazy. But instead, he found her brows furrowed in concentration as her nails clicked against each other.

"What kind of evidence does the Duke have?" Was the only thing she asked.

Confused, he answered. "He said he has journals of past explorers who said they'd come close or something." He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't remember very well considering later that night I was punched in the head."

"And what will happen when he finds you aren't there?" Elias hadn't considered that. He'd totally forgotten about the threat the Duke had made. In a small voice, he told her.

"I'll be charged with treason and stripped of my position." he dropped his head into his hands. A headache had begun to grow, pounding in his ears as he thought about all the chaos his kidnapping had brought to his life. What he didn't expect was to hear her laugh.

"Poor Mr. Keen." She tilted her head back, holding onto her stomach. "This just is not your week is it?" Her voice taunted him to the point where it overwhelmed his headache.

"At least I'll have the entirety of the English Militia searching for me." He smirked but she just sighed.

"Sweetheart, the entirety of the English Militia has been searching for Gaspar for nearly 40 years." She stood off her chair, spreading her arms wide and turning in a circle. "Does this look like a cell?" She asked smiling crazily. "Does this look like a noose?" She tugged on the medallion around her neck. "They'll never find you. The Militia is pathetic." She took a bottle of rum off a nearby rack, swallowed a swig and sat back down. "Face it, Mr. Keen. You'll most likely remain on this ship for the rest of your life. Like it or not." He stood with his hands clenched at his sides and a glare on his face.

"Just watch. I'll be on the other side of the cell door. Just watch." He turned to leave the room, swung open the door and stopped.

"Quite dramatic, yes. But until then you are still my prisoner." He sighed tiredly as he looked up at Jack and the other man. "Boys, please take our lovely guest back to his, oh so special, quarters. And give him a mop." She smirked at him with a wink as they dragged him out of there with one thought on his mind.

Bitch.