Dashing Pirate Rescue
Chapter Ten
The heavy morning fog had finally lifted and the sun was finally starting to poke out from the clouds. The light from above casted shadows against the white sails, giving a bit more visibility to the man currently stationed in the crows nest.
He had taken the early morning post, standing high above, surveying the men busy at work below him. The perch was slippery with the dew from the dissipating fog, his hands gliding against the railing as he looked below.
"How is it looking up there Charlie?" He heard the voice of the sailing master, Mr. Randell, call from the top deck.
Charlie leaned over the edge and responded, "Everything looks alright from up here. Nothing to report Mr. Randell."
"Keep your eyes peeled. We don't want any surprises son." The man looked up at him, shielding his eyes from the rays of the sun.
"Aye ay, master sailor." Charlie replied dutifully.
Charlie circled the length of the crows nest, casting his eyes out across the ocean for any sign of enemy ships. He stayed like that for a few minutes, glimpsing out on every side to make sure the water around them remained empty and devoid of any ships.
He moved to his left, and he paused where he stood, narrowing his gaze toward an object in the distance. Retrieving his spyglass, he uncoiled the metal and brought it up to his eye. With a firm grasp on the glass, he squinted as he inspected the shape moving toward them at high speed.
His eyes widened, his mouth parting in alarm. How could he have missed it? How could he have been so careless? He mentally berated himself for his neglect and hoped that he wouldn't be punished for his blunder — the last thing he needed was a round of lashes with the whip.
"Enemy ship dead ahead." He cried out. Charlie bounded toward the edge, his fingers curling against the railing as he screamed, "Enemy ship! Enemy ship 30 degrees south!"
He flapped his arms around wildly, signaling to the master sailor below, but he was already on it.
Randell had already retracted his own spyglass, a hand placed underneath it as he cast his eyes out toward the direction that the man in his charge indicated to him. Sure enough there was a large frigate hurtling toward them.
He lowered the spyglass just as the quartermaster approached him. "It appears they are traveling at 50 knots and they don't appear to be slowing…"
"Royal Navy?" Madden inquired with a tilt of his head.
"I don't think so. I've never seen a flag with colors like that…" He directed his attention toward the ship that was steadfastly approaching them.
"A stolen ship, perhaps…" Madden guessed.
"Whatever it is, it is headed straight toward us." Randell said. "Bring me the chip log!" He barked out. Several men behind him relayed the message to the other as the men scattered about to fulfill the request.
"Should I sound the alarm?" Madden asked from over the other man's shoulder.
"Do it. Be quick about it. Time is not on our side." He cautioned. "Where is that bloody log!" Randell shrieked, turning to face the members of the crew on deck. "If we have any chance to outrun her, we need to do it now!" He cried out desperately, running toward the nearest man. "You, man the top sails. We need to turn her or we are going to be in the line of fire." He yelled, shoving the man toward his post.
Madden sprinted toward the bell and jumped on top of the platform and rang the ball furiously to alert the rest of the crew sleeping below. "Enemy ship! Enemy ship! All hands on deck! All hands!" He screamed.
The sound of heavy footfalls across the deck was deafening. Men were bounding up the stairs, still half dressed or tugging on their clothing as they ran to man their posts. The crew scrambled across the deck — some joining the effort to steer the ship out of harm's way by pulling the rigging tightly while others scaled the ropes to provide intel.
"Get me the master gunner." Madden looked toward one of the deck hands who responded instinctually, running as fast as his legs could carry him to retrieve the man.
Killian's eyes opened to the sound of urgent stomping above him, sending a mist of dust raining overhead due to the weight of his crew as they gathered on the deck.
"Bloody hell." He cursed as he heard the ringing of the bell echoing topside. Holding his head, he winced and thrust the covers off of him and slowly began to edge himself off the bed, waking Emma in the process.
Her eyes snapped open at the loud crashes above and the sounds of Killian's annoyed grumbles as he slipped his legs into his leather pants and drew them up to his hips. "Killian?" She questioned in confusion, tugging the sheet close to her body in uncertainty.
At the sound of his name, he grabbed his shirt and leaned over her, placing a hand against the back of her head to place a kiss on the top of her head. "Stay here." He said and released her.
She watched as he hurriedly toed on his boots then stormed out of the room without as much as an indication as to what was going on upstairs.
Killian stomped up the steps as he tugged the shirt over his body, adjusting it in place as he reached the final stair. He wrinkled his face as the sun beat down viciously above him and he had to avert his gaze against the sun's harsh rays. "Does someone want to tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" He bellowed authoritatively, watching as men whipped past him without acknowledging his presence.
"Captain!" He heard the sound of his first mate's voice cut through the chaos and immediately headed off in his direction.
"Tell me what I'm looking at Mr. Smee." Killian insisted, his tone grave and serious. But before the man could open to speak there was another clanging of the bell.
"Enemy ship! Enemy ship! All hands! All hands!" The man at the bell cried out, drawing Killian's immediate attention.
He knocked his first mate out of the way, charging through the men running across the deck to reach his sailing master was, currently hovered over his apprentice overseeing the measuring of their speed via chip log. "Where are we at Mr. Randell?"
Randell continued to feed the rope into his apprentice's hand and let him drag it through the water, counting each knot as it was lowered into the ocean. Randell looked between the rope and the watch in his hand, watching the second hand move.
"Time." Randell called out to the man below.
"Just about 48 knots now." His apprentice answered.
Killian was handed a spyglass from a deckhand and practically pried it out of his hand and raised it to his eye. He barely had time to assess the situation as he was confronted with an unknown ship gaining on them. He lowered his telescope, shaking his head in disbelief and looked through it once more to confirm his suspicions.
It was a bloody war ship.
Killia thrust the spyglass back into the trusted hands of the crewmember and tore across the ship. "Get some wind in those sails now!" He screamed as he ran toward the helm where one of the sailing master's underlings was struggling with the wheel. "Move, mate." He pushed the man out of the way and took up the position himself. "Prepare to turn!" He instructed his crew. "If she gets us in her line of sight that is it." He cautioned as he spun the wheel an entire rotation, fighting back against the unyielding direction of the tide.
"Let's send them a greeting. Let them know who they are dealing with." Killian gritted his teeth as he strained behind the wheel. "Hoist the black flag!" He yelled to a returning chorus of "hoist the black flag."
Below deck was stumbling around the cabin, trying to navigate on her own two feet as the ship turned sharply and rolled over a particularly large wave. She reached out blindly to grab hold of the nearest thing to hold onto as she doubled over, clutching her stomach, fighting off the urge to vomit.
She was nearly knocked off balance, the chairs skidding across the floor as the tide crashed against the side of the ship. She gripped the edge of the table for purchase, guiding herself over to the trunk where she had deposited her clothes the night before.
The ship jerked, sending her clamoring to the floor, forcing her to crawl toward her intended destination. She sighed when her hand closed around the trunk, and she pulled hard on the stack of clothing, tugging it into her lap.
She managed to slip on her shirt despite the insistent rocking of the ship. Rolling onto her back, she tilted her pelvis up and dragged her leather pants up her legs until they sat snuggly at her hips. She could hear hollering above her, letting it spur her movements as she began to furiously lace up her pants.
"Sir, they aren't slowing." Smee told him, lowering the spyglass from his eye. "What should we do?" He turned to his captain and waited for his orders.
"Send word to the master gunner to prep the cannons. She is heavily armed, I need to keep the Jolly moving to avoid direct contact—" Killian's eyes widened as he heard a cannon fire in the distance. "Hit the deck and brace for impact!" He screamed at the top of his lungs in warning.
Killian crouched low to the ground, gallantly trying to steer the ship to avoid the cannon hitting its intended target. The ship shook as the cannon narrowly grazed the stern of the ship. He could hear the splintering of wood behind him as he jerked the wheel to keep the Jolly steady.
"Man battle stations!" He heard Smee cry out, ringing the bell.
"Get those cannons loaded now and prepare to return fire if needed!" Killian directed as he stood to his feet and addressed his quartermaster. "Arm the men and expect to be boarded."
"Sir?" Madden questioned, wide eyed at his captain's command.
"Just do as I ask!" Killian howled. "I'm going to hold them off for as long as I can to buy us some time." He grunted, twisting the wheel so that he kept them in their least vulnerable position — the last thing he needed was to expose the side of the ship leaving them open to cannon fire.
"Smee!" Killian called, bringing his first mate to attention.
Smee rushed over to his captain, a hand placed on his signature red knit cap to hold it in place against the drag of the wind against the sails as the ship fought against its natural direction. "Aye, sir?" He directed his question toward the Jolly's captain.
Killian struggled to hold the ship in position, planting his feet as they skidded across the deck. Beads of sweat fell from his matted hair, rolling down his face as he gritted his teeth, his knuckles white against the ship's wheel.
"I need you to post armed guards outside my cabin to guard the princess — whoever we can spare. If they even get close to her, they will be the last line of defense." Killian commanded his first mate. "Go down and retrieve the key from my jacket pocket and lock her in. And while you are down there, bring me my sword. I'm going to need it."
"Aye, captain." He agreed, stumbling back a bit before taking off to the stairs that would carry him down below.
"If it is a fight they want — it is a fight they'll get." He roared with determination, trying to stay center as the wind attempted to blow them back.
Emma's attention drifted toward the door at the sound of the hinges parting. The door swung open and a rounded man stepped in. Fear struck her immediately, instantly putting her on guard.
"Who are you?" She demanded gruffly.
"My apologies, your highness." Was all he managed to get out as they were jerked forward by the heavy thrust of the ship. Smee fixed his cap and righted himself before addressing the royal. "My name is William Smee, first mate of the Jolly Roger." He introduced himself.
That seemed to put her at ease somewhat but she was still on high alert. She knew nothing of this man but if Killian entrusted him enough to put him in a position of power then he must be a respectful and worthy part of his crew.
"What do you want?" She asked, reaching out a hand to grip the nearest and most stable piece of furniture she could hold on to as the ship twisted violently.
"I'm afraid I have come for the key to the captain's quarters. I've been instructed to seal it shut for your own protection." He informed her, grabbing the leather duster from the chair before she had a chance to seize it for herself. "I'm terribly sorry." He apologized sincerely before he began collecting the weapons strewn about the room.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" She stammered, but remained resolute in her line of questioning.
"It's nothing you should concern yourself with, my lady." He shoved his hand into the coat and came out with a thick brass key.
"If there is something going on that affects my safety, I deserve to know." She insisted, not backing down until she got the answers she sought.
"And you will." He promised. "The captain has his reasons for keeping you in the dark and he wouldn't be doing it if it weren't absolutely necessary." He told her. "Captain Jones is one of the bravest and most fearsome pirates to ever sail the high seas — he's an even better captain."
"And you'd trust him with your life?" She replied firmly.
"I do." He affirmed. "I have yet to see him fail." He assured her with a nod of his head. He returned the leather coat to the chair, juggling the objects in his hand. The man in the red hat looked at the princess with pity, his face drooping at the sight. Tucking the weapons against his chest using one arm, he used the other to fish into his belt where he stashed his dagger.
Emma flinched away from him as he pulled it from his person, unsure if he was going to use it against her.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you." He shook his head earnestly. "I thought you might like to have it…" He extended the blade out for her to take. "Just in case."
She looked at it skeptically, her eyes zeroed in the sharp object in his hand.
"Please." Smee urged, pushing it toward her. "It will give me peace of mind to know that I did everything I could to keep you safe." He stated. "I've seen the way he is with you and I think in his own way he has come to care for you." He admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
Her eyes widened at the revelation. Her face softened at the mention of his feelings and she couldn't help the small smile that broke out onto her face. "Thank you." She accepted the blade with a slight uneasiness as to its intended purpose.
"Take care of yourself, my lady." He said with a lazy bow.
"It's Emma." She corrected and he gave her a confused look. "My name. It's Emma." She provided.
"Stay safe, Emma." He grinned, his jolly rounded cheeks flushing crimson before turning on his heel and retreating from the cabin.
She stood back as the door closed behind him and heard the faint sound of the lock clicking into place. She released a long winded sigh and plopped down on the bed, bouncing slightly. She turned the tagger over in her palm, inspecting its razor sharp edge as she glided it lightly across her skin, being careful to not cut herself.
It felt weighty and dangerous in her possession. She didn't know the first thing about using such a weapon to defend herself. If confronted with the need, she wasn't even sure she could wield it. She remembered the brute force and effort it took to impale someone — that much had been obvious when she watched Killian easily dispatch his foes. He had demonstrated so much strength and so much power, he almost made it look — graceful. Would she be able to do the same if it came down to it?
Killian leaned forward against the wheel, placing his head between the rungs in the wood, growling and shaking as he pushed against the tide. He was starting to lose his grip. They couldn't afford to take a direct hit from their cannons. The ship they were up against was designed to destroy and if given the chance they would make easy work of the Jolly Roger.
He refused to give up, he had an entire crew relying on him and a princess that he had to protect. He couldn't let them get their hands around—
He stilled at the wheel, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks — the reason that they had only fired one shot despite having ample opportunity to fire more with the greatest of ease. It was a warning shot — a shot meant to send a clear message. It was never their intention of destroying the ship — they were here for acquisition.
They were here for her — they couldn't confidently fire — not while she was still inside. They wouldn't risk it. They weren't aiming for the ship — they knew that the Jolly could avoid it. They wanted them distracted and weakened in their avoidance of cannon fire while they moved in to take what rightfully belonged to him. He wouldn't let them take her.
Killian released the wheel, letting the ship rotate to face their enemy. He stumbled backward with a grunt until his back hit the wall behind him. With palms flat against the wall, he rested himself, breathing heavily as sweat dripped from his hair.
"What the hell are you doing?" Randell screamed, bolting to the helm to resume the ship's defensive maneuvers.
"Let it go." Killian panted, trying to catch his breath.
"Are you bloody mad? They'll kill us all!" His sailing master shrieked as he spun the wheel until he met the wave's resistance.
"I said, let go!" Killian bit out sharply, waving his arm out to signal him to abandon the helm.
"And condemn us all to death? Not bloody likely." He challenged, blatantly disregarding his captain's orders and continued to steer the ship.
Killian scowled and pushed himself off from the wall leading up to the deck above him and stomped toward his sailing master. He let a menacing growl tear from his through and gripped the man savagely by his clothing, flinging him backward and away from the wheel.
He whirled around to face the wide-eyed man, watching in horror as his captain whirled around and closed the distance between them.
Killian curled his fingers into the man's shirt, dragging him toward him until he was flush with his face. "You dare question my authority?" He questioned, his voice hard yet brimming with a reserved governance that shook the man to his core. He seethed with rage as he searched the man's face, enjoying the way he cowered under his appraisal.
"No, captain." He stammered, shaking his head.
"Then, I am mistaken in my assertion that you directly disobeyed an order from your captain?" Killian spat, looking him over with a discerning eye.
"No, Captain Jones." He swallowed thickly, easily rattled by Killian's proximity.
"Question me again at your peril." Killian barked in warning, releasing the man from his hold, his sailing master stumbling backward, heaving at just having been spared by his captain's punishment for disrespecting him.
"Don't you see this is what they want?" He barked in aggravation. "Or are you too concerned with your own lives to see what is right in front of you?" Killian pointed out to the ship in the water.
The ship was advancing on them quickly now given their stagnant position in the water having abandoned their original plan. "Do you hear cannon fire?" He demanded, crouching down to get eye-level with him. "No. You don't. Why would they risk destroying the ship with the loot still inside?"
Killian watched the cogs in the man's head turn and the look of realization crossed his worried face.
"Oh." He managed.
"Yes. Oh." Killian snapped. "I suggest you get back to your post and send the message that I am not to be trifled with." He urged sternly. When the man didn't get up, Killian got back into his face to chastise him. "Go!" He screamed.
His sailing master scrambled to his feet and took off toward the men in his charge, who were still in the midst of measuring the speed and depth of the ship to no avail.
Killian stood firmly, crossing his arms across his chest as he narrowed his gaze on the ship heading toward them. Dropping his arms to his sides, he sprinted toward the top deck, using the ropes to hoist himself up. "Brave and loyal men of the Jolly Roger!" He called out, his hand curled around the rope for purchase. "That ship means to disarm you of your prize — the prize that we fought hard for — that your friends died for! Do not let them take it!"
"Arm yourselves and prepare to be boarded. Defend what is rightfully yours!" Killian cried out, ramping up his crew for the fight ahead.
A rousing chorus of "Captain Jones" rang out around the ship and Killian looked down, surveying the faces of his crew — faces dead set on bathing the deck of the Jolly Roger in blood.
Killian was interrupted when his first mate appeared next to him, his sword belt slung around his shoulder. "Mr. Smee, I presume everything is in order?" He tilted his head toward him with a cold and calculating stare.
"Aye, sir." He replied dutifully, taking the sword belt from his shoulder and handing it to his captain, who wordlessly accepted it and began to swiftly wrap it around his hips.
Killian secured the belt to his waist, adjusting it so that it hung low on his hips. He spent a moment taking inventory. First placing a hand on the hilt of his cutlass, slowly unsheathing it from its scabbard and then replacing it. He checked to make sure the holster for his dagger was full before realizing that there was something missing.
"Mr. Smee?" Killian stuck out his hand and motioned him forward.
"Here you are, sir." Smee said, producing a pistol and handed it off to his captain, who nodded his thanks. Smee gulped as Killian inspected the pistol, turning it over in his hand and practicing his aim at no particular target.
The pistol was no ordinary pistol. He had stumbled upon it during his many travels and paid a handsome price for the weapon in his hand. What appeared to be a standard one-shot flintlock pistol was actually an enchanted weapon that could fire off five shots without the need to reload — which was an extremely long and tedious process no pirate needed.
It has accompanied him in many a fight and he had grown attached to the weapon with its enchanted wood and intricate metal work. The weapon responded to his touch and fit easily in his hand. But even with all of its capabilities and stored power, it had limitations. Once all of the shots were dispatched, it would be half an hour before it would be magically reloaded and ready for use again.
"Captain?" Smee spoke up, capturing his captain's attention.
Killian looked up at him questioningly, an eyebrow raised in mild annoyance. He raised his pistol level with the side of his face, his hand firmly wrapped around the handle.
Smee's face sagged at the steel cold expression his captain wore — his jaw set in determination, the blue in his eyes as cold as ice. "Never mind." Smee shook his head and retreated.
"Join the others Mr. Smee." Killian ordered as he moved his finger against the hammer and cocked the pistol in preparation. He inhaled sharply, his jaw clenched and his feet standing shoulder length apart as the large frigette came into view.
He glared at the ship as it slowed and began to pull itself up next to the Jolly Roger. He regarded the warship with sheer vigor, his heart pulsing wildly in his chest at the promise of bloodshed. His grip tightened around the handle of his pistol, his lips curling into a fearsome smirk. His body was buzzing in anticipation, the blood running hotly in his veins as his cock began to harden — his masculinity crying out animalistically for death and violence.
Killian stood erect, a watchful eye cast out upon his sea soldiers as they stood at the ready. The sound of the grappling hooks hitting the side of the ship pierced his ears and he squared his shoulders and opened his mouth to give his command. "Bayonets at the ready!" He shouted.
The men stationed at the edge of the ship lowered their arms and cocked the barrels of their weapons.
"Take aim and fire on my mark." Killian barked out his instructions.
The silence that swept over the ship in agonizing wait was deafening, dragging on as the wind lashed out against their skins.
Killian mouthed as he counted the seconds that ticked by, his fingers drumming against his thigh as his body trembled with raw power. His heart skipped a beat as their enemies began to scale the ropes connected to the ship and came into range of their weapons. "Fire!" He ordered, his command setting off a unified response.
Smoke billowed up from the gunfire and the screams of death hung heavy in the air around them as their enemies plummeted into the waves below. "Reload!" Killian directed, pacing the top deck overlooking the men below him.
The minute or two it took the men to reload their weapons raged on leaving opportunity for several of their enemies to gather on the ropes. "Fire at will!" Killian allowed, his voice carrying over the breeze whipping through his hair.
The guns sounded, one after another in an ungraceful fashion and Killian pressed his lips together in satisfaction at the sound of bodies made as they splashed into a watery grave. "Mr. Finley, ready the cannons."
Metal grinded against metal as the cannons were loaded and pushed into place. Flints were lit, bursting with life as they waited to fulfill their purpose. "Fire cannons!" Killian roared.
The ship bucked violently at the force of the cannon ball's release and hurled toward their targets. There was a loud explosion as they hit the enemy ship with precision, the distinct sound of splintering wood thundering from the location of impact. Killian could hear their torturous screams as their limbs were torn to pieces by the cannon, and he curled his lip in gratification at the familiar heady sounds in the distance.
Smoke flowed thickly from the air, obscuring the enemy from view. He had to wait for it to lift to assess the damage. When the smoke cleared, he could see men taking up the task where his brethren had failed. The cannons had managed to slow them down but it had done nothing to deter them from their goal — it had only served to make them angrier.
The ominous sounds of axe cutting into wood rang out — they were scaling the side of the ship. Killian leaned over the railing and screamed, "Cut them down!"
Members of the crew threw themselves against the edge of the ship, ready to engage the men wielding axes but drawing them out put them in the direct line of enemy fire. "Fall back! Fall back!" Killian rescinded his last command but it was too late.
His head snapped toward the enemy ship just in time to see the cloud of smoke form from the muskets leaving their rifles. Bullets flew at the men nearest to them — piercing arms and legs, chests and heads. Blood splattered from the exit wounds and rained down on the deck below. The survivors scattered while the injured groaned in pain as they tried to crawl through the pools of blood to get to safety.
Killian clenched his fist at his side, fuming in anger. With his gaze fixed at the enemy ship he shouted, "Cannon's at the ready… Take aim… Fire!"
The barrage of cannons collided with the warship, tearing holes in the ship in hopes of distracting and shaking off the men about to break through their defense. The Jolly Roger vibrated from the sheer power and thrust of the cannons sending some of the men reeling to the ground.
"We need to pick off their gunners and then bring the fight here!" Finley informed his captain from below.
"Aye." Killian agreed, narrowing his gaze toward the enemy in the process of reloading their weapons. Abandoning his perch above, he descended the stairs two at a time until his feet hit the deck.
Killian kept low to the ground to avoid any stray bullets to reach the master gunner. His rushed footsteps brought him to the man, who was currently directing his men to reload the cannons and pack them in. "Tell the remaining gunmen to concentrate on disarming their gunners." He instructed Finley.
"But don't their cannons pose a far greater risk?" Finley wondered breathlessly.
"No." Killian answered resolutely. "They won't risk using their cannons on us without the cargo in hand. Take out their guns and they are forced to engage us in close combat." He told the master gunner.
"Aye, captain." He accepted the order and turned his attention to the gunners. "You heard the captain. Take them out!"
Another round of bullets soared toward them, sending several men to the ground and showering the deck with a fresh coat of blood. Killian turned his body away from the warm crimson spray, letting it splash his back.
He closed his eyes in agitation, his face hot with anger. Opening his eyes, he released a vicious snarl and spun around, aiming his pistol in front of him just as one of the men from the enemy ship swung his leg over the edge of the ship.
Killian sneered, his eyes darkening with something lethal and pulled the trigger sending the bullet soaring into the man's chest. The look of surprise on the man's face was delicious — barely able to register what was happening until his axe slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground as he fell backward into the embrace of the unforgiving sea.
One of his crewmen snapped their head in his direction, stunned by his brush with death and his rescue. All the color seemed to drain from his face when he noticed the captain, a chilling expression written on his face as vapors of smoke emanated from the barrel of his pistol.
"Henderson." Killian nodded his head in acknowledgement, drawing his pistol away from the young sailor.
"Captain." He stammered.
"You know better than to turn your back on the enemy." Killian tisked in disappointment.
The pirate gaped and was unable to admit a response because his captain was already striding toward the group of his best fighters assembled on the opposite side of them.
Killian tucked his pistol away into his belt and launched himself up, grabbing the rigging and using it to fling himself around to face the men gathered around the starboard side of the ship, waiting for further instruction.
With a hand poised on the rope, he scanned the crew armed with all manner of weapons — pistols, axes, cutlasses. "Get ready we are bringing the fight to us." Killian announced, his imposing demeanor causing many of his less experienced crew members to fidget where they stood.
Killian made eye contact with many of his high ranking crew members, his boatswain, first mate, and quartermaster among them. He nodded toward each of them individually, spending a moment to silently communicate their obligation to keep the men in line.
He was surprisingly impressed with the crew they assembled — few showed fear, most were resilient and eager for a fight. Killian ignored the sound of the bullets whistling through the air and opened his mouth to address his crew.
"You are to pick off those who manage to make it over the wall, but stay out of range of the bullets unless you want your head to implode. Most of you will be fine as long as you don't do anything stupid." He shouted, searching the faces of the men before him.
The sounds of footsteps charging toward him drew his immediate attention and several of his crew moved to come to their captain's defense but it wasn't needed. Killian dodged the man's attack and used the rope to swing himself round 180 degrees to push the man backward with his feet.
The man fell to the ground, his weapon scattering a few feet away from him. The man scrambled to his hands and knees to retrieve his weapon when Killian jumped down off the platform. Cutlass in hand strode over to the man with purpose and kicked his sword from his reach.
Killian glowered over him and wiggled his finger, tisking. He kicked him backward and held him down with his boot. The man howled in pain as the boot dug into his sternum and he could hear the sound of crushing bone. While the man was incapacitated, Killian stradled him, a leg on either side of his chest and a hand over hand grip on his blade as he plunged it into the man's neck.
Killian moaned in satisfaction at the sound squelching flesh as he twisted his blade, prolonging his torment until his head rolled to the side. Placing his foot on the man's chest, he propelled himself back, withdrawing his cutlass and soaking his face with fresh blood.
Killian inhaled deeply, blood dripping from his sword as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He turned on his heel to see the faces of his men, who had gone pale from his hedonistic display of force. "Any questions?" He asked humorously, his eyes dilated and the testosterone pumping through his veins.
He narrowed his gaze, bewildered that no one had said a word. "No one?" He wrinkled his face, taken aback by that no one had ventured to speak. "Suit yourselves." Killian shrugged before moving to confront his masters of trade.
Killian leaned forward, resting his arm across his leg as he addressed his boatswain. "Bradley, take a group of men and cover the bow of the ship." He directed him and the man nodded in understanding. "Smee, I want you and a few others to defend the entrance to the bowels of the ship." Killian gave him a stern look as he assigned him with the task. "Kill any man that gets close."
"Madden, your crew will be stationed at the stern of the ship and the remaining lot of ya are with me." Killian announced, bunching his pants as he rolled himself up, his chain swinging to and fro.
"Enemy disarmed! Prepare to fight!" The master gunner shrieked out his report.
"Gentleman, I do believe that is our cue." Killian smirked devilishly. He watched as the men dispersed around him, scanning the crowd of men to find one in particular. "Madden." He called out, grabbing him by the arm. "Don't hold back." Killian winked.
"Never do." His quartermaster smiled assuredly. "Loser buys drinks?"
"You're on." Killian shook his head in amusement, laughing to himself. He watched his quartermaster retreat, the man brimming with enthusiasm as he mouthed the words "body count" to him and flexed his muscles. Killian rolled his eyes at his antics and then faced forward, twirling his cutlass in the air and taking off down the center of the ship, leading his team to engage the enemy climbing over the edge of the ship.
Killian's crew collided with the enemy force, meeting their offensive weapons in defense. Killian greeted his challenger with an antagonizing smile. Killian braced his blade against the man's axe as it bared down on him in an attempt to push him back.
Killian gritted his teeth in resistance until he was able to use his weight to drive him backward. Looming over him and mirroring his gasp of shock and surprise, he let out a laugh. "Would you like to know an interesting fact about ships?" He tilted his head expectantly and frowned when the man didn't entertain him. "Unlike humans…" Killian knocked him forward and planted his foot in his chest, pushing him overboard. "They float." He finished as the man fell.
"Should've taken me up on my offer…" He turned around, exhaling in disappointment as he waited to hear the audible splash that accompanied his demise.
Raising his head, he was met by a rather large man charging toward him. Killian bent his head forward and locked his feet in place and rammed the hardest part of his head into the man's stomach, using his weight against him.
Killian seized his wrist tightly, twisting it in his grip and divesting him of his weapon. "Ow-ah-ow." Killian winced in pain, mocking him. "That's gotta hurt." He remarked as heard something snap. While the man was concentrating on his hand, his other hand was adjusting its grip on the hilt of his cutlass. "But this is going to hurt a lot more." He promptly jabbed the end of his blade into the man's cut.
The man wheezed and coughed, drops of blood hitting Killian's face as he smiled crookedly, reveling in the choked breaths. Killian retracted his sword, watching with gratification as blood dripped from the wound and the man fell lifelessly to the ground in front of him.
Killian vaulted over a body as gunfire filled the air, his cutlass raised in attack. Swords clashed in the air, the distinct sounds of metal meeting metal furiously reverberated around them. They circled one another like prey, his enemy lunging toward him, swinging his blade about in search of opening.
Killian parried his attacks and answered with his own offense, advancing on him until his opponent could no longer keep up with him. He tangled his sword with his, sending it clanging to the ground allowing Killian to land the final blow.
Killian grunted, propelling himself forward and running his enemy through with his blade. He pulled it out with ease and kicked him to the ground. He felt a weight pressed against his back and dragged backward, a knife poised at his throat.
He was able to hold onto his weapon, tightening his grip as he was led backward. Killian snarled, arching his back away from him and slammed his foot down on top of his. Killian spun around, grabbing his knife from its holster before he completed the rotation and stabbed him in the neck with it.
The man stumbled back, his palms trembling over his wound until he bled out seconds later.
After returning his knife to his sword belt, Killian spotted a man glowering over one of his own lept toward him. Grasping him from behind, he tugged him tightly against his body and slashed his jugular with his cutlass. Killian gasped in pleasure as the man thrashed against him as he ran his blade against his neck and bathed him in his lifesblood.
"And that's 15. How are you doing down there, cap?" He heard Madden's voice from above him.
He snapped his head up at him, a menacing grin on his face as he watched from over the dead man's shoulder as his quartermaster fended off another enemy. "Apparently not as good as you." He smirked, dropping the man in his grasp. Killian panted as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, smearing the blood on his face in the process. "I have a lot of catching up to do."
Killian tossed him a mischievous look and nodded his head before taking off in the opposite direction, dispensing with several enemies in his wake.
He ran into a broad body and pushed him forward into another man. He drew his pistol, lining up his shot and fired, sending both men scattering to the ground. Great, two for the price of one, he thought to himself as he stepped over their bodies.
He was in mid-step when he felt a firm kick land between his shoulder blades and he tripped forward, clamoring to the ground. He hit his shoulder as he landed and rolled his body away from his attacker. He managed to get himself onto his side and looked up to see the man advancing toward him.
Killian collapsed onto his stomach, blood dripping from his lip as his hand closed around the hilt of his dagger. When the man's feet came into view he gritted his teeth and rose up slightly to bury his dagger in the man's foot.
Pressing his weight on the hilt of the knife, he helped himself up, digging it further into his flesh until he was kneeling in front of him. Keeping his hold on the dagger in the man's foot, he jerked his sword back and thrust it into the man's gut.
He pulled out the dagger first and dropped it to the ground in front of him, blood rolling down his hand where he had extracted it. Lastly, he withdrew his cutlass and threw it onto the deck. Killian spread out on all fours, his head bowed as he struggled to catch his breath. He raked his nails against the floorboards in fury, groaning before sitting on his legs and scrubbed his hand down his face.
Killian gritted his teeth in annoyance as he watched a man lunge at him out of his peripheral vision. He let out a formidable growl, grabbing his pistol and flipped around to fire it, the bullet landing between his eyes. The man fell with a thud, and the pirate captain closed his eyes as he breathed.
His heart was thrumming, he could feel the crimson warmth soaking his skin and his body was still crying out for more — not content by his offering. Killian swept his hair off his face, carding his bloody fingers through his hair. He collected his dagger and placed it back into his belt and picked up his primary weapon before rising to his feet and surveying the battle around him.
"Captain!" Smee called out.
He turned his head in the direction of the voice that belonged to his first mate to see him fighting against two assailants that had him pinned down. Even from his vantage point he could see the pained struggle etched on his face. Killian followed his line of sight to the entrance leading down below to see a few members of the enemy crew break through their ranks and descend down the stairs.
Emma.
A sadistic snarl ripped from his throat and his knuckles turned white around the hilt of his sword as he broke out into a sprint. He flew through the battlefield at high-speed, avoiding the duelling weapons around him. Killian skidded across the deck, using the hilt of his blade to knock one of the enemies back. The hilt bounced off one person, the force of the hit propelling it forward to strike at another attacker. Killian screamed, something cold and menacing as the cutlass pierced the man's chest.
He twisted the blade with a scowl, letting the crippling sounds of tearing flesh wash over him and quell his bloodlust. The man behind him staggered forward, his weapon held high when Killian pulled his revolver from his belt and in one fluid movement, removed the sword from the man's chest, turned around and pulled the trigger.
Killian tightened his grip on his cutlass and rounded the helm and slipped through the passageway leading down into the bowels of the ship. He charged down the steps, taking the last three steps in a single bound and landed on his feet. Craning his head, he strained to listen to the sounds below to pinpoint their direction. They didn't know the layout of the ship and he would use that to his advantage.
The blade in Emma's hand trembled and she curled her hand around her arm to temper the non stop shaking. She blinked back her frightful tears, her lower lip quivering as she flinched with every heavy whack of the axe on the other side of the door. Her heart was racing and she could feel her breathing slow as the axe broke through the door and impaled the other end.
She stood petrified, closing her eyes as hot tears rolled down her cheeks at the sound of the door being kicked open. There was one crack of the wood, then a second, and a third as the door gave way and three men pushed themselves inside.
Hiding the small dagger behind her back, she walked back slowly until her spine hit the wall of the cabin. Emma winced, averting her gaze as one of the men approached her. She grimaced at the feel of the man's hot breath on her face. "Please…" She begged weakly.
"What are you doing? Grab her and let's go." She heard one of the men say.
Emma slipped the blade into her sleeve, drawing her arms to her side as they pried her from the wall. "No… no!" She yelled, fighting against them to little avail. Her eyes widened as one of the men came to stand behind her to hold her in place and keep her from squirming while the other produced a pair of monocles. They didn't just intend to take her — they were leading her out in chains.
"No… no!" She protested, extending her body outward to avoid capture.
"Hold her down." One of her captors said in agitation.
The man behind her placed a hand against her upper back, forcing her down and she wailed, kicking her feet out in front of her to try and get away. "Killian!" She produced a blood curdling scream.
The sound echoed through the long stretch of hallway above, eventually reaching Killian, who stopped dead in his tracks at the heart-wrenching sound of her cries piercing his sense of hearing.
Emma.
AN- The chapter was getting super long so I had to cut it there. I have teased more pirate and bloodlust, which means sex, violence, and blood. I intend to deliver all of them onto your pervy little souls in the next chapter. You did get some of that bloodlust, hot, masculine testosterone stuff in this chapter but expect a hell of a lot more in the next one… Until next time my little pervs.