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He lets go of my face and leans in closer until all I see are his eyes, the color of stormy seas. I know he said he doesn’t have the power to compel me, yet I want to drown in his gaze all the same.
“Are you going to be a good girl?” he murmurs.
I snarl in response.
“Because if you’re a good girl,” he goes on, voice like silk, and he drops his gaze to my lips where I feel them burn, “then I can free you enough for you to eat. And then we can discuss my little proposition for you.”
To hell with your proposition, I think. But the truth is, I am starving and thirsty and want nothing more than this chain to be removed from my mouth. I take a deep breath through my nose and try to soften my features, relaxing my shoulders. I try to submit.
“I know this must be hard for you,” he says, his hands going behind my head to where the chain attaches. “To willingly give yourself to me and be sweet when you’re such a vicious little monster. You have so much anger and rage and I know you wish to unleash it on me.” He leans in closer still and my eyes flutter close, the intensity of his gaze getting to be too much. “I can’t say I blame you either. But I promise you, if you’re good, I’ll let you take it out on me, all of it. If you play nice and fair, after you’ve had your food, you can hurt me. If you’re good. Will you be good?”
I nod just as he undoes the chains and the metal is taken from my mouth.
I whimper. My jaw aches painfully as I attempt to close it. My mouth is parched, my tongue sore, my teeth feel brittle.
“Start with this,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket, a jacket that looks a bit too small for him and I assume belonged to the former captain. He pulls out a wooden flask with a scrimshaw Syren etched on it. “The water on the ship I’m not sure I’d trust to drink, but I did find a bottle of rum in the captain’s locker.”
I’ll take anything for my ravaged mouth so I grab it with my bound hands and tip it back onto my tongue, the rum flowing down.
I immediately start coughing, the alcohol burning my lips and throat, but there’s immediate relief as well as it numbs me from the inside out. I drink more down, finding it both intoxicating and quenching, until I’ve emptied the flask.
“Impressive,” he notes, and I toss the flask away, my focus now on the food behind him.
“Fish,” I say, so hungry I can barely speak. “Now.” The rum is already hitting me, making the room sway more than normal.
Ramsay watches me carefully, never taking his eyes off me as he reaches behind him and hands me the plate.
I immediately pounce on it, picking up the fish head with my tethered hands and biting a chunk out of it. It tastes like the sea, it tastes like home, and I’m barely swallowing it down before I’m devouring the rest of it, brains, bones, eyes, and all.
Before I know it, the fish head is gone, I’m a mess, and I’m barely satisfied. I want more than that. I want a lot more.
“That shouldn’t have aroused me, and yet…” Ramsay comments, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.
If he’s aroused then perhaps his reflexes aren’t at their best.
I take the opportunity to attack but before I can even move a muscle and lunge at him with my mouth, my teeth sharpening in an instant, he reaches out with his hand and holds me back by my throat, choking me.
“Play nice,” he warns, his grip tight and bruising as he presses me against the wall.
I manage to move my throat enough to spit in his face.
My spit lands on his forehead, a sliver of fish bone in it.
He grunts and reaches up with his other hand, wiping it away.
“Do it again,” he whispers, eyes dancing darkly. “This time in my mouth, please.” He opens his mouth, showing me his tongue, wanting it.
Damn it. Everything that’s uncouth and repulsive about me he somehow loves.
He shuts his mouth and grins. “Fine. Just know I will be returning the favor one day.”
Then he reaches down and grabs the chain from the floor.
“No!” I cry out but he starts choking me even harder, enough that I can barely breathe. “Please, not that.”
“You did this to yourself,” he says, the chain clanging in his hand. “I can’t trust you not to bite my face off.”
“Won’t it just grow back?” I manage to say, my face going hot. “Your arm is fine.” My gaze goes to his arm, which earlier today I had noted looked nearly healed even after I felt my claws slice him to the bone.
