Warning: Chapter contains implicit sexual content involving a minor and an adult.


Before his death, Starkey had told Hook in great detail of how he'd extract Emma's virtue from her. Not five seconds into his tale, Starkey lay bleeding on the ground near the south spring, struggling for life.

The man who knew him as not just Captain Hook but Lieutenant Jones and Killian, betrayed him and sold him out to Tomas, the late Rufio's brother. Said lost boy emerged from the shrubbery with Benjamin. He'd dueled with both, but Benjamin managed to get the better of him and knocked him out with his club. When Hook was jostled, he awoke and saw Bae hovering over him, Starkey long dead, and Tomas and Benjamin on the ground with arrows imbedded in their chests.

Emma had stood paralyzed and pale, a bow at her feet. With the exception of the bow, she mimicked such a state in Hook's cabin. He coerced her into revealing the truth and the depth of her feelings towards him. It was all rather selfish, cruel even, of him to press her in the way he had. Aside from his own infatuation deepening as well as his pride inflated by her confession, nothing beneficial could come it. And yet, her claim washed over him, sending a shiver down his spine.

Hook went to run the backs of his fingers over her cheek, and she recoiled before slapping him soundly.

"I hate you!"

He rubbed his smarting skin and chuckled, endeared. "To be loved and hated by the same girl. What's a pirate to do with such passion?"

She went to strike him again, and he stopped her, clutching her wrist tightly and bringing the fingers to his lips. "You saved me," he said, nipping at the digits. "Thank you."

"Let. Me go!"

Hook then broke the promise he made to her a week ago and laid claim to her mouth, coaxing her lips open to taste the warm, wet cavern. She tasted of honey and grain from her breakfast. He nipped at her bottom lip and then the tip of her tongue. He pressing her form against the bookshelf, trapping her. After letting go of her wrist, her arms came up and looped around his neck, pulling him even closer. He mumbled her name like an oath and moved his lips to her jawline, tasting the lightly freckled skin before finding her pulse and scraping his teeth over the delicate blue veins. He could feel the excited thrum when he pressed his tongue against it.

"H-Hook?" she stammered, and he sensed her unease.

"Killian," he corrected and resumed his work on finding another spot on her neck to keep her from thinking to clearly. Her breath quickened when brushing his nose against a spot right below her ear. There it was. Sucking on the small section of skin, he smoothed his hand and hook over her subtle curves and picked her up when reaching the backs of her thighs and was torn on where to deposit her.

Again, he reminded himself she wasn't a besotted tart wanting a quick and dirty roll with Captain Hook. From what he gathered in the weeks of her stay on the Roger, she was decidedly un-plucked. When he placed her on his duvet and soaked in her flushed beauty along with her painfully apparent youth, he internally vowed her maidenhead would stay intact. However, he'd not deny himself an opportunity to taste more than just her mouth. He had to sample, even if not completely, what she'd ultimately give another man when she'd return to her realm.

She'd marry, Hook was certain. He was unfamiliar with her realm or their customs but in his, young women with such refined and striking features were whisked away by gentlemen far before their twenty-first year. Even in her lower standing as an orphan, she'd easily fetch a high societal man if she played her cards right.

When he'd find Emma and Bae after the Crocodile's demise, her love for him would be nothing but a vague, perhaps unpleasant memory. Her heart would belong to another, and she'd have wee ankle-biters clutching to the cuffs of her trousers because, as she had mentioned, she did not wear skirts or dresses.

Her legs hung off the edge of the mattress, and he divested himself of his leather cloak and his hook, tossing it aside. He became situated between her thighs, and she stared at him, no objection on her swollen lips as he tugged and separated the strings of her vest. Soon he was able to bunch up the tunic under her chin and bent over to place his mouth over her naval, licking the crevice and then a long, wet strip to her ribs, to the plateau between her breasts where he dwelt for a few moments. He wanted to give Emma a chance to protest, but she remained silent with the exception of her maddening breathy whines.

He sampled her left breast first, and her soft moans turned into sharp, squealing gasps. He then paid equal amount of favor to her right breast while unlacing her trousers. Before removing them from her hips, he caught her gaze. She lowered her lashes, looking down and then nodded, swallowing. He stripped her trousers from her legs and then sunk to his knees and placed his mouth on her, humming and feasting on her sensitive flesh.

Emma bit her hand to keep from screaming. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? She thought he was going to touch her with his fingers, not…not…

Her hips arched and a strange, choking sound ripped from her throat.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

"Uh…" Something was about to break inside her. "I don't…I think…" And it did. Like a vase of flowers full of water making unforgiving contact with a slab of concrete on a hot, summer day. She pressed her palms into her flushed face and tried to remember how to breathe, and Hook rested his head on her stomach. Her fingers instinctively combed through his hair, the simple but intimate gesture calming her until the pleasure-filled fog lifted and she crashed into reality.

Why? Why did he have to go and do that?

It wasn't so much of Hook's pleasuring her that pissed her off. It was him pressuring her into saying she loved him. And for what? Why make her say it?

Something struck Emma, and her annoyance with him intensified. She squirmed beneath him, wordlessly telling him to get off her. He complied and slipped her trouser back in place. He went to do up the laces of her vest, but she shook her head and tied them herself, ignoring his stumped expression.

"You didn't like it," Hook said.

Her already reddened cheeks darkened. "No, I did. It's not that. I was just thinking about something."

"What's troubling you?" He massaged her cheek with his thumb and started planting gentle pecks on her nose and forehead but stopped when she grimaced and leaned away.

"You need to talk to Baelfire. It's about where we went yesterday before we found out you were in trouble. He…He wanted to wait and tell you, but you need to know." She stared at her lap and nodded. "I think you need to know now what he's been doing. It's not Tinker Bell, so I…I'm going to…" She pointed her thumb at the door and got up to leave.

Emma was about halfway when Hook mirthlessly laughed. "So that's it in then? You say you love me and now you have to go."

"You never said it back, and we both know it would be a lie if you did. Nothing has changed, and this won't happen again. I'll make that promise this time."

"Emma, please. It's not that I-"

"No, you please. Please talk to Baelfire. He has something to tell you."

She left for the kitchen for some tea and more bread. Guilt hammered at her. No, it wasn't a crime to love a person and like another, but letting both think they have a chance wasn't right which was why she made the initiative of telling Hook that Bae was hiding something. It would keep them both busy and away from her.

McCormack joined her in the kitchen close to noon and while he stirred the boiling stew, she read to him. It was something they started doing not long after her arrival on the ship. Being injured at the time and feeling useless, there wasn't much else to do, especially if Bae was doing his chores or skipping around the island. Plus, McCormack loved the company. Whether it be lunch or dinner or both, he would present her a book, and she would curl up on a rum barrel and read to him. Now that she'd been to the captain's cabin, she knew where he got the books.

Emma never called McCormack out on it, but she knew he couldn't read. He recognized the English language and, therefore, chose English books for her to read, but she assumed he was completely illiterate. He probably only knew how to spell his first name which was Sal.

Today, he brought her a brittle, old manuscript. The parchment was deeply yellowed, almost tan colored and the handwriting very old world, but she could read it, thank God. For how poor of condition the pages were, the ink was oddly clear.

Her fingertips smoothed over the title The Princess and the Pirate, and she quirked her lips. "In my world, we have a similar story. It's called The Princess Bride, and it was meant to poke fun of the concepts of royalty and true love. When it became a film, those specific parts didn't translate very well, but it was still a good watch."

"You speak of these films often, Miss Emma. You'll have to explain to me again what they are some time."

"Yeah." She chuckled and peeled back the first page and read aloud, "The peasants of the quaint hamlet on the outskirts of Vessal sided with Pirate Kahn. The princess, indeed, deserved to die."

Emma frowned and ask McCormack what the hell be brought her when Smee burst into the kitchen, red faced and wheezing.

"We're under attack! Miss Emma, go to the brigs! Run!"

"Uh…"

"Now, girl!"

"In the bloody middle of the day?!" McCormack took the stew off the fire and ran out of the kitchen, spoon in his fist.

"What's going on?!" she asked.

"To the brigs, Miss Emma! Captain's orders! You are to remain out of sight!" Smee's voice dropped to a trembling whisper. "The Lost Boys. Captain fears they're here for you."

"If they're here for me-"

Smee grabbed her, locking his fat arms around her middle, including her arms and dragged her out of the kitchen. She tried to kick him and dig her heels into the wood flooring, but he was stronger than he looked. One of the crew members, a large towering dark-skinned man, spotted them and Smee called out, "Kenny, take her to the brigs."

"No!" She tried to wiggle out of Smee's embrace before Kenny got to them. There would be no way she could get away from him, but Smee practically threw her at him, and Kenny picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!"

"I obey the captain only, Miss Emma," he told her calmly and grabbed one of the hallway lanterns and descended further and further into the belly of the ship until they came to the bottom level and opened a wide, heavy door. He entered the brigs and opened one of the cells lowering her to the straw covered floor. She attempted to slither around him and lock him in the cell, but he was faster than her. He locked her inside and placed the lantern on a table a few feet away from her.

"I can take care of myself, Kenny!" she shouted and kicked one of the bars of cell when he left. She heard the heavy door lock in place and she sunk to the floor. "Damn it!"

The manuscript was still in her hands, and she contemplated ripping it up in a fit of anger. This was her fight! She brought this on all of them. She killed those two boys. No one should fight her battles for her!

Emma banged her hand on the floor and growled. Stupid! All of it! Everyone!

She flinched when hearing a muffled but unmistakable sound of a bloody curdling scream above her and had no idea if it came from a man or a boy. The sound was then followed by a solid thump, and she covered her ears. For a half-hour, maybe, she stayed like that until the door of the brigs slowly opened, the hinges creaking noisily. The figure lowered his tattered hood and joined her in brigs.

"Hello, Emma."

"Hello, Felix."