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I don’t have time to come up with a snappy reply before he shoulders past me and disappears belowdecks. Apparently he won’t be joining my fan club anytime soon. Shocking. I head for the captain’s quarters, and it’s only as I’m opening the door and stepping instead that my nerves threaten to get the best of me.
Or maybe it’s the sight of the captain that brings me up short. He’s changed in the time since I saw him last. He’s still wearing that damned crimson cloak, but beneath it, he has on fitted black pants tucked into knee-high boots and a white shirt that looks to be an exact match to mine.
In fact, his eyes narrow at the sight. “Did you steal my shirt?”
For once, I’m innocent of any thievery, but I’m not about to let that get in the way of my reputation. “Finders keepers, remember?”
He opens his mouth as if he’s about to demand the shirt back but seems to catch himself before the words escape. Probably because it would be an abuse of power to demand a member of his crew strip. Paladins, am I right?
He shakes his head. “Sit down and let’s get this over with.”
CHAPTER 7
Bowen
MY ENTIRE CREW KNOWS MY CUSTOM OF SHARING A meal with new members the first night they are aboard. It’d be strange if I skipped that ritual with the witch. People might get the wrong idea, and that would only give Miles more ammunition against me. I saw the way my people watched me on the deck earlier. There’s doubt where there wasn’t any a mere month ago.
The worst part is that I don’t know how to combat it. I am a good captain. I’ve been trained by the best to be honorable and fair. We do our duty and answer the orders sent by the Council to kill monsters to protect Threshold, and the crews are rewarded generously as a result. I’ve ensured that this ship is as comfortable as possible and no one is going without.
I might not be the most charming or effusive captain, but I take care of my people. I never thought there’d come a day when that wouldn’t be enough, but no matter what I do, Miles continues to chip away at the goodwill my crew holds for me.
Evelyn’s arrival may just be the final thing to sway the majority of them to vote for him. It certainly will be if I start acting against type.
It still might have been better than standing in a room alone with Evelyn, who is wearing what I’m nearly certain is one of my shirts. On her, the V in the front looks downright indecent. The pants aren’t much better, clinging to her round thighs just as lovingly as her denim did earlier. I realize I’m staring at her body and I jerk my gaze back to her face, but it’s no better than last time. It’s not that she’s beautiful, though she is. The danger is in the glint in her uncanny green eyes that invites anyone present to be in on the joke.
Considering I’m pretty sure that I am the joke in this scenario, I’m not a fan.
Best to get this over with. I motion to the small table tucked up against one wall. “Shall we?”
“By all means.” She turns and walks to the table, which is a mistake of its own, because it gives me a view of her full backside. I’m going to need this woman to wear different pants that don’t cling to her body so closely. She is the very definition of a distraction. Maybe I can ask Kit to find her something. Ne is built both taller and with enough muscle that surely Evelyn would swim in nir clothes …
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been around beautiful people before, and I’ve never lost my cool quite so quickly or effectively. The fact that she’s one of my crew members only complicates things further. No matter what else is true, there is a deep power imbalance between me and the rest of my crew. The sole exception is perhaps Miles, but I barely tolerate the man and I’m certainly not going to jump into bed with him. I take my pleasure in port towns with partners who expect nothing but the pleasure I’m happy to give. It’s an equitable give-and-take where we all leave satisfied. Such a thing is impossible if I’m living in that person’s proximity day in and day out.
“What’s got that frown on your face, Captain?” From the playful tone in her throaty voice, she has some idea. “Cat got your tongue?”
“I would like my dagger back.”
Evelyn smiles even wider. “What dagger?”
“The one you lifted off me earlier today. If you want to get along here, stealing from your crewmates isn’t the way to go about it.” I move to the small tray that was left a few minutes before she arrived and carry it to the table. “You seem to think this is a game. It’s anything but.”
“And you seem to think I’m nothing more than a treacherous thief. Be careful there, Captain. Keep that up and you’re going to hurt my feelings.” Every time she says “Captain,” it feels like she reaches across the table and strokes one of those pink-tipped nails down my chest. She’s doing it on purpose. She has to be.
Except … what if she’s not? What if I’m misreading things entirely?
I haven’t had much interaction with witches over the years, and none like her. But even I know that in most realms witches are the descendants of a human who had children with a paranormal person. Humans are not inherently magical on their own, but they are a great conductor for magical energy in their progeny. It’s entirely possible one of Evelyn’s ancestors had a child with some flavor of paranormal person that draws people in naturally. A succubus, or a siren … except it’s unlikely to be the latter, when they’re all but extinct in every realm.
Thank the gods for that. I’ve seen the damage one can do when their song is unleashed. My skin heats at the memory. Best they not be left to wander about, spreading their … chaos … wherever they go.
Either way, if Evelyn is exuding this attraction naturally without intention, then I’m a bastard and a half for even engaging with it. I uncover the food and push her plate toward her. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Here’s a pro tip for free.” She peers at the food as if trying to divine what it is. It seems simple enough to me, if heavy on the fish, but maybe they don’t have the same varieties where she’s from. Evelyn looks up at me through her eyelashes. “When you’re mining for information, it helps to coax it out instead of demand. With that tone, I’m liable to think this is an interrogation instead of a conversation.”
She’s right, but I can’t help it. I’m uncomfortable and off-balance—and I’m hardly the most charming person at the best of times. “Answer the question, Evelyn.”
“If you insist.” She picks up a fork and pokes experimentally at the fish before shrugging and taking a bite. Her green eyes go wide. “Oh. This is really good.”
“We have several brownies in the kitchen. They take great pride in turning out fare that is far too good for those of us in the crew. We’ve learned not to question it—or to wander into the kitchen without invitation.”
