Page 4 of Darkest Dredge

I stared at her in silence, long enough to make her squirm. I’d do it less if it wasn’t so damn entertaining. And I knew, secretly, she liked it.

“Come on, now isn’t the time to tease me.”

I disagreed. It was always a good time to make my first mate squirm. “You mean the bottle of rum we got specifically for when we found the sunken city?”

“Well, we as good as found it!”

“We found a mask. A clue that we’re in the right place.”

“I feel really good about this.”

At least, that made one of us.

“Alright, but if you get shitfaced, it’s to the brig with you.”

She worried her lip. “And, er, just so we’re clear, Captain. What’s the brig at the moment? The toilet or y-your bed?”

Smirking, I shrugged a shoulder and turned my back on her. “Guess we’ll just let the Kraken decide for us.”

***

Beatrice's pierced nose wrinkled at the first drop of rum on her tongue. "Ugh, yuck."

"It's a shot. You're supposed to shoot it. Not sip it."

"But it says spiced rum on the label." Bea grabbed the bottle and glowered at it like it had said something nasty about her mother. "Spiced shit's supposed to taste good. You sit on a throne of lies!"

I plucked the bottle from her hand to pour myself a second shot and slotted it back into her waiting fingers, still curved to the shape of the bottle.

I placed the shot glass to my lips, grinning at the way she shifted her attention to watch me. Her hot blue eyes centered on my mouth, and to my immense pleasure, she licked her own lips as I knocked back my shot.

She probably thought she was being coy. My first mate was never as subtle as she likely believed.

"Come on Bea. Stop ogling me and take the damn shot," I taunted with a tone as sickly sweet as the liquid burning down my esophagus. "Be a good girl for your captain, and do as you're ordered."

A nervous giggle bubbled from her throat. "Oh, so now you’re throwing the captain card at me?”

My answer was another drink—this time from the bottle.

Her cheeks flushed red, and her gaze sparked with determination. “Fine.”

With no further argument, she tossed the shot glass back, and this time, drained the dark liquid in one go.

“There, that wasn’t so bad was it?” I teased as I nudged her open can of diet coke toward her for a chaser.

She smacked her empty glass down on our galley table with a hiss. "I don't get why Johnny Depp was so obsessed with this stuff. Why is the rum gone?" she said in a terrible Captain Jack Sparrow impression. "Maybe because it's gross, Johnny!"

I hid my reverent smile behind my glass. She was so cute when she got like this.

“Eh. It's sweet and will keep ya warm.” My brain was already abuzz with the alcohol. It had been a long time since I’d had anything stronger than cheap beer. “That's enough for most sailors.”

Lounging back in the bench seat built around our tiny breakfast bar, I began to unbutton my shirt.

Her eyes practically popped out of her head at the slow, teasing way I flicked each button with my thumb.

I cocked my head with a barely-there smirk. "Hey, weren't you the one who wanted to get the dark rum in the first place?"

"Only because the bottle was pretty!" she whined, surrendering to another shot once I filled her glass again. "I mean, come on. There's a freaking kraken on the label, and we're hunting for tentacled sea monsters. It was too poetic."