He raises a brow and leans back against the table, crossing his arms in a casual pose marked with curiosity. “Why would I lie to you?”
“You’re a pirate.”
“Yes.”
“There you go.” I give him a definitive nod.
“I see.” I don’t miss the amused glint in his dark eyes.
“I hope you realize there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you touch me.”
“All right. Fair, I suppose, given your opinion on pirates. May I at least look at your injuries? If I can get a look at the bite, I’ll be able to tell if you have an infection. The fall into the water—it would help if I could palpate?—”
“Absolutely not.” I don’t want any of whatever he just said.
He sighs. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Moira. I want to help you, if you’ll let me.”
It’s stupid, but I want to believe him. It’s not like he’s yelling “Avast ye!” and swinging a rapier at me. Still, I can’t just go around putting my trust in people. Especially not here. I’ve learned that the hard way.
I keep my spot against the wall and eye him.
“I take it that’s a no?” He shrugs and turns to his bag. “I’ll leave a seaweed poultice for the bite—doesn’t smell good, but it will work a treat on mermaid saliva. For the pain, I’ve compounded a pill.”
“What’s in it?” I raise a brow as he places the seaweed bandage on the table and then holds out a grayish pill.
“Medicine.”
“Like what?” I’m not taking it, but it might come in handy later.
“Highly-diluted poppy essence with a few other medicinal vitamins.”
“That’s heroin. Thanks, but I’m not really interested in breaking bad right now.” Though I think that would apply more to meth.
He gives me a smile and shakes his head. “Not heroin or anywhere even close. It’s mild, but it will help with pain.” He’s still holding it out.
I’m not going over there. He could grab me. Of course, if he wanted to, he could drag me out of this corner. He’s tall, over six feet, and likely late twenties. Strong. Just like the other pirates on this ship.
“All right.” He puts it on the table, then goes to another hidden cupboard and pours me a fresh cup of water. “You can take it with this. In any case, get some rest. You look …”
“Sick? That’s what Cookson said.”
He grabs his bag and my plate from the table. “You look like you’ve been through a lot. Rest will help you and your body recover.” He backs toward the door. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”
I want to say ‘don’t bother’ but I don’t. After all, he’s been nothing but kind, even if he is trying to offer me heroin.
Smee opens the door for him, and Skylights backs out, a rueful look on his face that turns to shadow as he steps into the darkness beyond the captain’s quarters.
Once again, the door closes and locks, and I finally slump forward, my body aching and the bite throbbing. I hobble to the edge of the bed and sit down, my head swimming a bit.
I was right. The bed is comfortable.
“Fuck you, Hook.” I sound miserable. Probably because I am.
I keep thinking I’m going to hear a knock at the window and find Peter outside with his hand out, waiting for me to take it so he can fly me to safety. But that knock doesn’t come. I’m still on this ship being taken off to who knows where.
A yawn overtakes me. Then another.
Shifting back a little bit, I settle on the bed and pull the curtain back so I can keep a steady view of the door. I’ll sit here for a little while, then get back to investigating the room. Skylights had no problem finding compartments filled with all sorts of things. I just need to find the one with the knives or the guns.
