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“What the fuck does it stand for?”
“Puss In Boots.”
A laugh coughed up my lungs. “Like the story?”
“Don’t be fooled.” The man stumbled again, losing his fight against the drink. “I hear the coat she wears is from the skin of all her dead enemies and the boots she wears can slice people in half.”
Scot snorted, shaking his head. The pirate world exaggerated with wild tales, most encouraged by the pirates themselves to spread fear. Blackbeard was good at that. He had tales spun so tall cargo ships would surrender before he got up to them. He got wealthy and didn’t have to do a fuckin’ thing because his unstable, ruthless reputation was so notorious. Well, that and a little glamour.
Blackbeard had been unseelie. Dark fae, though that had nothing to do with good and evil. Most of the seelie I knew were cruel SOBs. Blackbeard had lost his way at the end, getting too caught up in this alter ego, the very reason for his demise. Born Edward Teach, Blackbeard had been kind of a friend. If pirates had friends.
I still missed that crazy fucker.
“So where is this little Puss in Booties?” Scot leaned back in his chair, amused by this tale. “Sounds like my kind of woman.”
The man sucked in, peering around nervously. “I wouldn’t be saying shit like that.”
Scot groaned, rolling his eyes. “Go on your way, Walrus. We don’t have time for your fairy tales.” He swallowed his whiskey, standing up, probably looking around for a woman he could take his energy out on. With a ship full of men, except my navigator, Tsai, who was ancient even by fae standards, we took advantage of our time on land.
Vane and Zidane were already off somewhere getting their dicks wet, going straight to the brothel when we arrived on shore. Corb and Tsai were left back on watch.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Walrus downed more of his beer, slopping it on himself. “She rules the high seas in the east. Even the Somali pirates won’t fuck with her.”
The Scotsman stopped, his gaze darting to mine.
I had no respect for modern-day pirates. We may have been ruthless and cruel in our time, but there was honor among us, respect, democracy on our ships. A sense of pride in our raids. And we tried not to kill if possible. The Somalias were cold-blooded killers. Pitiless. Only greed ruled them. They bowed to no one or nothing.
“Somali pirates?” Scot repeated. “You sure?”
Wally nodded his head, his whiskers moving around nervously.
“Sounds like this pussy has some teeth.” I lifted a brow, making Scot chuckle.
“I’m off to find onewithoutteeth who can swallow like a sucker fish.” Scot strolled toward a group of women who smiled coyly at the giant brute. I was comfortable enough to recognize he was a good-looking man. Most of my crew were, which had us gaining notoriety from the “pirate chasers.” They were a group of mainly women who hung around taverns and other places we did, wanting the adrenaline rush we provided as the ultimate bad boys. Bragging rights to say they had been with one of us. We were rock stars of the sea.
“She’s got teeth, claws, daggers in her boots, a terrifying crew, and two pit bull-shifters who guard her twenty-four-seven,” Wally continued to ramble. “She’d kill you before you even knew it.”
Slowly standing, my tall frame towered over the walrus, though he far outweighed me. In a blink, his head slid down onto the table. With my blade at his throat and my palm squashing his head, he puffed a grunt from his throat.
“You ever disrespect me again, or I’m using your blubber to light my lamps this winter.” The threat tinged my words, my knife cutting enough into his neck to make him whimper.
“She might control the Eastfor now, butI amthe king of the Western Hemisphere. You understand me?”
He tried to nod, only pushing the blade in deeper. “Y-yes.”
“You tell everyone you know that the Silver-Tongue Devil is back,” I barked as he grappled for air under the pressure of my blade. “Or I hunt you down and gut you, then feed you to the sharks while you slowly die. You got me?”
“Y-y-yes.”
“Say it louder.”
“I-I understand!” Warm liquid trickled onto the floor, his piss trailing down his leg.
Disgusted, I pushed away from him, wiping the blood he left on the knife over his shirt, before I slammed the rest of my whiskey down and headed out into the night.
I should have killed him. Showed my irrefutable dominance here. But that had never been my style, though I was afraid times had changed too much while I was gone. The talent of my tongue, whether it be in bed, battle, or politics, wasn’t enough anymore.
The water crashed against the shore, and the black flag flying from my mast flapped in the wind. Taking a deep breath, I gazed out at the water when my shoes hit the end of the pier.
