Chapter 13

It wasn't until he stood inside the room that Killian realized how small it truly was. He winced, knowing Emma would never complain, but he was sure she would be more comfortable in larger quarters. She deserved a palace. If he was a king in his own right, his mistress should be living in splendor, not this tiny little nook in the wall.

Nevertheless, the diminutive size made the space easier to search. There was only one cubby, and he found the salve tucked in the back. It was clear she had needed to use it a few more times after those first few injuries Quinn's training had left her with. He recalled fondly (was it only a few weeks ago now?) that first time she had melted into his touch, when that forged-metal woman had softened first, as she had done again and again since.

But now his pride had damaged her. She may have insisted that she understood, but he would not forgive himself for causing her such discomfort and for so long. He would do everything he could to remedy the situation. Tonight, that would mean pampering her as best he could while tending to her wounds. He was no medicine man, but it would not do to have Clark examine her. He was already suspicious of her femininity, and Hook did not want to give him the chance to confirm those vague notions.

Clark had been a pirate all his life – his father had handed down his own profession. There were few, if any rules imposed upon the man's conduct, and he had no moral compass of his own. He was a vicious fighter and handy in any battle. He was even more useful in the aftermath, with the ability to saw apart or stitch together human bodies as was necessary, using the same tools on flesh as he did on the wooden body of the ship.

He knew better than to steal from his captain or any outranking member of the crew. He knew how to follow rules, even if he begrudged a few of them, but he preferred to be a man of his own right and live by his own code when given half a chance. What's worse is that he believed all the old superstitions, and would spit bile to know the captain had broken that unwritten rule without the slightest regard.

After all, rules were for lesser men, not for the most feared pirate captain who sailed in these waters. Still, Hook knew what was bad form, and he tried to live his life by his own set of morals, dubious though some may be. Those dusty old superstitions and legends were just a set of guidelines, anyway. This was his ship and he could do what he wanted with it.

He could do what he wanted. Whatever he wanted.

He paused, jar in his elbow and hand reaching for the door. Maybe he would. Perhaps he would claim Emma as his mistress before the crew, revealing her to be her true self. If they knew that she was his and his alone, then he was sure that no one would touch her. No one would dare to try and claim the Captain's prize. Even for the hefty reward on her head, they would stay away.

Killian brightened, an extra swagger drifting into his step, but he paused yet again. If she was claimed as his one and only mistress, he would have no other women. Before, that thought would have repelled him, but for Emma... Emma was different. He felt as though he needed no others. He glanced down at his arm, still extended before him. There, on the inside of his forearm was the etched reminder of the last time he had given his heart to a woman. He had never intended to again. There was her name, inked into a heart with an undulating dagger pierced through it. Milah. His one true love. Or was she?

Certainly, his feelings for Emma were strong, but had he really been able to fall in love again? He hadn't thought himself capable of such a feat. He'd spent so many years now, finding comfort in every port he landed at, but never letting any of them into his cold and darkened heart.

Perhaps it was true, but he couldn't bring himself to believe it just yet. All he knew was that he wanted Emma, wanted to protect her, and revealing and claiming her was the best way he could do that right now. She would be his prize, and he would be able keep her by his side at all times, to kiss her at will without eliciting any awkward scenarios with his crew. They would be partners in all their crimes.

Decision made, he unlatched the door at last, his heavy boots stomping back toward his own quarters, where Emma would be lying in wait for him, just where he had left her. He hoped she would go along with his plan. Killian was sure it was for the best, and he wanted her to agree. He was sure she would see the logic in it, maybe she would even be pleased by the offer.

Swinging the door open with a smile, he called out to her. "Emma?"

No response. He didn't see her. Killian stepped further into the room, to check if she were hidden by some corner. He placed the jar down as he peered behind the table. Perhaps she was hiding as some sort of game? No, the room was empty; Emma was gone.

"Swan!" He called out louder. He needed to find her, and the urgency of doing so only increased when he saw the clothes he'd pulled out for her still lying neatly on the bed, though one of his sheets was gone. Her bilge-soaked outfit was still in the room as well. Wherever she was, she was naked, possibly wrapped in a blanket. He was sure they were alone, but he couldn't overlook the risk they were taking, playing house like this.

Never in his life had he done a full inspection of his ship so quickly. He knew every nook and cranny of his vessel. She was his first and longest love, and he knew every inch of her. Emma was nowhere to be found. That's when pangs of panic began to stab at his throat. He ran back to the hatch and stuck his head above the deck.

"Swan!" He shouted again, not caring who might hear him. The shared name on the "wanted" poster never even crossed his mind. "Where the fuck are you?"

He glanced out toward the sea, then hesitantly turned his gaze back toward land. No, he didn't want to think that was a possibility, but no other obvious solution presented itself. Someone had sneaked onto his ship and taken her from him. There was nowhere else she could be.

Ire and fear put a strange mixture of flame and ice his blood. He immediately made his way toward the shores, in search of his treasure.