Under Black Skies (Beneath Black Sails, #3)

by Clare Sager

“That’s what you said in Redland, and I told you then, it matters to me. But you ask me to risk you all the damn time. You need to extend me that same respect.”

“Vee, I need you to trust me. Both to do what needs to be done and to talk to me. You can do that, you know. Like you did in the pool. Tell me what you’re feeling, what’s raging behind those stormy eyes of yours. I’ve never seen them so dark.”

“It’s what I’m here for. And I know this doesn’t come naturally for you, but you’re doing so well. I’m proud of you.”

I feel safe with you, Knigh.”

“I’ve never felt like this before. When you’re not near, I think of you. And when you are, my eyes seek you out. I don’t mean to, but they’re not under my control—the damn things want to drink you up all the time.”

“Your smile. Your eyes, which I used to think were colourless, but that somehow reflect any shade they’re near. That ridiculous shock of white hair.”

“Your expressions. Your feelings play out on your face in this subtle way that makes me feel special because I spot it.”

“How I feel about you,” she murmured, barely more than a whisper, “it doesn’t feel safe.”

“Don’t tell me the great Lady Vice is afraid.” He closed that inch and kissed her, then murmured in her ear, “Coward.”

“I hate you.”

“I know you do.” He grinned, head cocked. “Show me how much.”

“Report to my cabin tonight and I’ll show you exactly how much I hate you.”

“I must be losing my touch,” he murmured, ducking closer, “if I can’t tempt you to bed.” “Hmm, because twice on the desk wasn’t enough?” He raised an eyebrow. “There’s such a thing as enough?” “I’m sure you can tempt me back later.”

Knigh grumbled about her staying up all night with another man and she swatted him for his mock jealousy.

“He was charming and lovely when we met.”

“And he didn’t judge me for what I read or the fact I liked to write stories and wanted to do that with my life.” “You write stories?” “Used to. Back then.”

“You never told me that. And you certainly didn’t show it off to me when we visited your famil...

“As we fled, things changed. He changed.”

“No. His actions are not your responsibility. He did those things.”

“What was it you said to me? ‘He did all that, not you. How is any of that your fault?’”

“You turned inward and looked for an explanation in yourself. I think perhaps we all do.”

“I mourned it all.”

“Not just that he’d died, but that the whole thing didn’t work out. I think I mourned the fact he wasn’t what he’d seemed, the fact I’d been so stupid to love him, the fact I’d pulled my life apart for something that was so utterly wrong.”

He could live like this. Forever. Even if they never found Drake’s treasure.

There were things she’d left out, he was sure, but he’d read between the lines. The way her jaw had clenched after she said he’d got angry, that meant aggressive, perhaps also abusive, whether physically or emotionally or both, he couldn’t say. But it was enough. Enough to make his knuckles pale as he gripped the ship’s wheel.

Passionate and clever. Funny and affectionate. Sharp as a blade. Wild as a wave. And as determined as the sea carving rock over centuries.

A flicker of surprise on her brows, her parted lips. Gods, he loved surprising her.

“Because men like him think everything is theirs for the taking.”

“There are other treasures in life than gold.”

“You know what would keep her away?” Vee raised an eyebrow. “Tell her you have syphilis?” “Wow. That took a dark turn. I meant, tell her about us.”

“I don’t think you understand just how proud I am to be with you. How happy.”

“I want to shout it from the top of every mast on the Venatrix, and then I want to find a dozen more ships and shout it from each of their masts, too. I want the world to know I’m with you, that I chose you and you, somehow, chose me. That we’re a partnership, a team, a…” He shook his head. “That we’re something beautiful.”

“When you leave, you can tell whoever you want.”

When you leave. He blinked. “Sorry, pardon? What? Leave? Where am I—?”

“I understand. But I’m in this for life”—she

I don’t want to settle down on land.”

“I know it’s selfish,” she said, barely above a whisper, “but at least if the relationship is secret, it might hurt less when you go.”

“Wasn’t it enough that I took you from the gibbet? That I walked away from the Navy? That we fought our way to you on the Sovereign?”

Want. Need. Desperation. Raw and messy and begging him to tidy them up and hide them away. But no regret, though. Not an ounce.

“I told you I’d always come for you and haven’t I proved it? Why are you still convinced I’m going somewhere? Why won’t you let yourself rely on me? Why do you think I’m going to leave?”

Sanctuary.

Sea witches will find sanctuary here.

“Come on,” he said, jerking his head towards the tents, “we’d better get reading that blasted book so we can work out what the hells all these symbols mean.” She laughed and bumped her shoulder into his. “Thank you.” He held her gaze and although they didn’t touch, he leant so close his warmth reached her. He inclined his head once. “Any time.”

Eyes locked with his, she sank to her knees and unbuckled his belt. Her pulse spiked with the knowledge that she was about to wreak sweet havoc on him.

“That wicked mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

She’d never let him take her over anything. It was a position she’d always hated—too powerless, too submissive.

“I see you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

“Boots.” She half-laughed, brows raising. “Are you commanding me?” No amusement on his face, only a challenging glint in his eye. “Are you arguing?”

“You want them gone, you can take them off yourself.”

“Do you want something?” he said,