Chapter 11

Hook's cutlass cleaved into the man's shoulder, and the gasping body fell to the side. He slashed the next man across the ribs. It seemed that every time he cut one man down, two more took his place. Droplets of blood flew from his blade as it curved through the air, and splattered down when another sword managed to block his own.

As he slid a man's stomach off of his blade to use it on the next man, he heard the sharp clang of metal behind his head. He turned his chin to see two crossed swords hardly a hand's breadth away from his face, one blocking a blow aimed at him. It would have taken his ear off, or worse. He dealt with the sailor at his front before he spun to see who had saved him. He would be sure to reward the man.

It turned out to be no man, but Emma. She'd stolen a sword from one of the corpses that lay at his feet and she was adding to the pile, defending his back. Something flashed inside of him, other than the usual heat of rage he felt during battle. He briefly appreciated the image she cast, blood-splashed, blade in hand.

"Killian, behind you!"

He pivoted just in time to catch the blow with his hook, twisting it to disarm the man quickly before stabbing him. The sailor choked on a breath that wouldn't come, and the captain threw him to the floor. He gave Emma a grateful nod and returned to the task at hand.

Clark took care of the rest of the naval men while Captain Hook spun on Emma. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Swan?"

"W-what?" She sputtered. "Captain I–"

"You what?" He demanded, his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. "I ordered you down to the gun deck, did I not?" He exhaled heavily, running his blood-smeared hand over his face. "Nevertheless, you may have saved my life. We will speak in my cabin to determine your punishment."

For a moment, she only gaped at him, her jaw moving up and down as though she were trying to form words. The expression he cast upon her was not one to be argued with, however. Still, if anyone would protest his command, it would of course be Emma. He couldn't be soft on her in front of his men. Silently, he hoped she would understand that. At last, she nodded and returned to the Jolly Roger, her form disappearing down the hatch.

After the enemy ship had been looted, and her treasure safely stowed aboard the Jolly, he and his men set the fire. They fled back to their own ship and adjusted the sails with haste. He instructed Connors to resume their course south before he followed Emma into his quarters.

At first, he said nothing. He spared her only a glance as he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it onto his chair. He crossed to his cabinet and retrieved a bottle of rum along with two tumblers, the same ones they'd used the first night they had dined together. He poured, and downed his own drink immediately. She held hers nervously.

"You could have died, Emma." He told her softly.

She put the glass to her lips and drank it all in a single smooth motion. He watched her throat work as she swallowed. "You could have died." She retorted. "We didn't."

He placed his tumbler down on the table and his lips were on hers. Whatever could have happened, it didn't. She was here. She was safe, she was alive and unhurt. She was fierce, and she had saved his life. She was his. He needed to feel her, all of her, to take everything he could have of her, everything she would give him. The thoughts swam through his head, making him dizzy. There was a fire burning in his belly. Or was that the adrenaline mixing with rum?

He caught his hand as it was pulling at the laces of her breeches. She didn't stop him. Rather, her hips leaned into his, and one of her feet wrapped behind his ankle. "Can you keep quiet, Emma?" He whispered against her lips.

She nodded cautiously. "I think so."

He created a ring of kisses encircling her neck as he turned her around, then released the laces on his own pants. He slid her waistband down over the lovely curve of her arse, and bent her gently forward over the table. His hand glided eagerly to her center, rubbing and stroking her small bundle of nerves until she was fully ready for him.

Killian entered her agonizingly slowly, and watched her hands grip the sides of the table, her knuckles going white with the exertion. His thrusts were firm, but tender. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning her name. His hand slipped over her hip as he pulled her back toward him, leaving a streak of blood on her cream-like skin.

She was here, she was safe, she was his.

The thought was enough to make him want to spill over instantly. He clenched his jaw, knowing he would not forgive himself if he did not bring her to pleasure first. Thankfully, it did not take long before he felt her body seize up around him, her inner walls pulsing around his cock. With just a few more quick strokes, he tumbled over the edge after her. Though he tried to hold back the sound, he grunted quietly.

Emma's legs shook as he removed himself. She collapsed the rest of the way onto the table and Killian smirked, admiring his handiwork. He helped her straighten back up before refilling their tumblers, watching her in silence as she tugged her breeches back into place and laced them up. He inhaled the familiar scent of the rum as he stared at her over the rim of the glass.

"You disobeyed me, Emma." He enunciated finally.

"And I saved your ass in the process." She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"What were you even doing there?" He set his glass down again to tie the laces on his pants. "Why weren't you down below deck?"

"Murray was injured by the cannon," she explained. "There was nothing more I could do down there, and it looked like you could use more swords. I figured – well, I've been training a lot, and you said yourself that I was getting better."

"That doesn't mean you're ready to face an opponent who is actively trying to kill you."

"Are you really going to tell me that you're mad? I think I did a good job, and I stand by my decision." Her cheeks flushed in frustration. Gods, this woman was stubborn. "If I hadn't been there, who knows what would have happened to you?"

He shook his head. "I'm not angry. I was concerned for your safety. But Emma, you went against my orders in front of my crew. I can't let them see you go unpunished. They think you're just the cabin boy. I can't be seen giving you special treatment."

She flinched at that. "Killian, please."

"Any man did what you did while under my command, I'd tie him to the mast and whip him, but I can't do that to you." The thought of her skin splitting open under the crack of the whip made him wince. Nevermind the fact that she would be exposed for the woman she was. "I'm sorry. I hate to do this, Emma, but I'll have to escort you to the brig."