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“Never, this is Cook,” Hook said with a casual air, like he was introducing two friends at a dinner party.
“At your service, miss.”
“At my service?” I lifted my hands, showing him the shackles and chains. “So far, the service on this ship is shit. Zero stars, do not recommend.”
Confusion pinched his plump features and he turned to Hook. “Did you understand that?”
“It would appear she thinks our hospitality is lacking, though the star reference is peculiar.”
“Oh!” Cook hustled back to the table, filling one of the fine metal goblets and bringing it to me with an apologetic smile. “Here you go, miss.”
I hesitated, glancing between the men.
Yeah, not really in a trusting mood right now, guys.
Hook chuffed out an irritated breath and poured a little of the clear liquid into his own glass. “It’s not poison.” He took a drink. “See?”
It was all I could do not to rip the cup from the man’s hand. My throat was raw from yelling, screaming, fighting, and nearly drowning, and I gulped the contents down greedily. What I didn’t account for was the cold. The shock of it was too much for my tender throat, and I doubled over in a violent coughing fit before collapsing gracelessly to my knees.
I didn’t hear him move, but when I looked up through the tears of exertion stinging my eyes, Hook was crouched beside me holding the goblet.
“Easy, love.” His voice was warm and the concern threading through it almost sounded sincere. “Small sips.”
A ragged laugh rattled out of me, at least until my throat convulsed again and a new bout of coughing savaged my already pained windpipe. Black spots dotted my vision, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Don’t gasp. Easy, shallow breaths, dummy.
The sound of boots on hardwood and a door closing quietly seeped through the haze. I wrapped the chains around my hands and squeezed, forcing myself to take careful, controlled breaths, focusing my mind on the sensation of the cool metal biting into my skin.
When I could finally breathe without fire licking its way up and down my trachea, I pried my eyes open. The goblet was on the floor beside me, but Hook wasn’t. Sitting back, I grabbed the goblet and brought it gingerly to my lips. I scanned the room as I took that first careful first sip, only to find him staring back at me. He was back on the loveseat thing, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching my every move.
“Feeling better?” he asked quietly.
I eyed him over the rim of the cup, then took another tentative swallow. My throat was in no condition for conversation, so I gave him a small nod.
“Good.” He stood and walked to the table, lifting one shiny silver dome at a time and examining the contents. “Are you up for a meal? Cook really is quite the chef. It looks like our choices are fish, poultry of some kind—probably gull—and a selection of fresh fruits and grilled vegetables from the island.”
He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, but I wasn’t moving from my spot on the floor. If I did, I was afraid the effort would trigger another fit of coughing and hacking. I wasn’t sure my throat could take much more.
I shook my head and tried another sip of the cool water. The taste was crisp and clean, like a rush of rain over my tongue, and it soothed the worst of the angry burn when I wasn’t trying to gulp it.
Hook scowled at the table, replacing the covers on the food before returning to me and holding out an expectant hand. When I hugged the goblet to my chest instinctively and tried to scoot away, he let out an impatient grumble.
“You do want more water, don’t you?”
My heart sank a little when I looked down and saw the goblet was mostly empty. I was so freaking confused. And tired. And more than a little pissed off about being manhandled. Yes, I wanted more water, but I certainly didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing me any favors.
I tipped the last of the cool liquid into my mouth and clutched the metal cup tightly, lumbering to my feet. Once I was upright, I shot him a triumphant glare. “I can get it myself, thank you.” My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but I smiled inwardly when I got the words out without hacking up half a lung.
He moved away from the table, giving me ample room to pour my own water without him hovering. It would have been a thoughtful gesture, in theory, except I didn’t understand the man or his motivations.
I took another drink of that gloriously cool water then set the goblet on the table. “Will you unshackle me?” I asked, holding my hands out toward him. “Please?”
His eyes narrowed just a hint. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You accosted me with a piece of furniture and ruined my favorite reading chair.” He motioned to the pile of broken wood and torn upholstery.
