A Siren at the Helm
  • Reads 1,944
  • Votes 144
  • Parts 30
  • Time 6h 37m
  • Reads 1,944
  • Votes 144
  • Parts 30
  • Time 6h 37m
Ongoing, First published Sep 06, 2021
When Amina is accidentally kidnapped by Captain Esteban's crew, she is found not to be exactly who she says. She is thrown into the deep waters of her past; one that she swore to leave behind. Old foes filled with loathing hatred lie in wait for a moment to strike. And when an unforeseen event occurs beneath the waves the past and future are forced to collide.

It does not help that she cannot stop thinking about the Cuban pirate that, for some reason, continually crosses her path.

Preview:

Esteban noticed that her hair was charcoal black instead of red, and had been tied into a bun. A few strands had escaped and were now hanging loosely in her face. He noticed that her eyes were inhumanely blue instead of brown. He noticed that her dress had been dirtied and torn when his men had kidnapped her. And above all, he noticed that she was not Isabella Oakes.

"I believe, captain, that you are very much mistaken," she said with a smile that threatened to turn into a full laugh.
"You're not Isabella."
"So you noticed? Your crew didn't seem to."

Esteban was dumbstruck. His surprise was evident, he had not seen the girl since his men brought her aboard. How the hell had his crew managed this? "So who are you then?" He asked bashfully.
"Amina, but you may call me miss O'Brien," she looked up at him with a smirk.
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The Pirate King (MxM) ⚣ by wambuimuiruriii
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When Alistair Melek gave his life to the sea, a various degree of things changed. For starters, his love for bloodshed was exemplified. Bolder. He was drawn to the clash of a sword, blood spiling below to floorboards, like a moth drawn to a flame. And this love was damned to spread through his crew as some treacherous disease, claiming any and all who joined. But he knew this was the price he'd pay. The price for the sea itself. So when his crew completes another standard loot and pillage from a merchant ship, he allows his men a bit of fun. He liked to give them an audience, rounding up those who didn't fall victim to the blade during battle, and forcing them to beg for their lives. To prove how much they really wanted to live. Alistair had ruled the sea for some years now. Killed thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Destroyed hundreds, maybe thousands of vessels. And yet, each feeble human was all the same. There was not one man he threatened that didn't beg for their lives with all they had in them when faced with the wrong end of the sword. Each feeble human was always the same. Or so he thought. And yet, he also thought that this would be one standard job. A treat for his men after a night of good work. But this particular survivor, the one with long white hair and dead looking eyes... He wasn't a merchant. He couldn't have been. More important, there was no hesitancy when Alistair asked the fairly built man whether he wanted to live, and the man replied with a simple no.
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My whole body trembled as I tried to stop the tear that's threatening to fall. I pulled my arm away from his grip not liking the way he held my arm tightly, but very gently. Like he was afraid to hurt me but he didn't want to let go. I shook my head mentally, my feet moving faster, away from the person that destroyed everything I've believed in for. "I'm sorry" I froze mid-step, icy cold sensation travelled to my spine and I can't seem to urge my limbs to move. I swallowed the lump in my throat, shaking my head as a painful chuckle escape my lips. "Sorry doesn't change anything, Harry" And with that, I walk away. (Sequel to Hooked)