Chapter 10: Truth and Consequences
Killian Jones didn't understand. Why did she stay? She hasn't moved, still running her fingers through his hair...why won't she leave? He honestly didn't know how long they stayed like that but he was definitely aware when the Celtic bitch came back, swearing up a storm.
His body tensed up, every muscle tightening...not in fear...but in rage. The things spewing out her mouth was not only bad form but bad period. His bloodlust began to rise and he could feel his darker self, Hook, pushing passed everything else but did not breach the surface.
Why...the small hand still brushing gently through his hair like the bitchy Celtic girl wasn't even there. Same pace, same gentle strokes...and then she spoke...and Hook dived bombed back from whence he came. Why because his goddess was fucking terrifying...her tone was level, calm, polite, and conversational yet somehow lethal... her voice practically screamed dangerous.
"Remaria Beltone McCreedy." The red head spoke softly.
"What? How...how'd ja know that name? I haven't told anyone that name." Rem demanded but there was a trickle of fear in her voice.
"Funny thing about magic...I wanted to know who was killing my blacksmith and it told me...everything." She answered simply, her tone even until the last word...it was like the crack of a whip.
Though it didn't stop him from absolutely loving the fact that she had called him her blacksmith. She had just officially laid claim to him in front of quite a few people and it made his pulse speed up in response.
"I wasn't killing him! I just wanted him to answer me question about whether or not he liked ja." The Celtic girl refuted.
"Really? So...the broken rib spearing his right lung...nothing more than a physical defect then?" The ginger asked a sliver of ice entering her tone and making Killian genuinely afraid.
He could feel it in the air...a pressure. It was weighing him down and lord knows what it was doing to everyone else...especially when the temperature dropped and he started shivering. His entire body felt like it was exposed to the elements in the midst of winter.
Her fingers threaded deeper into his hair, rubbing along his scalp gently. If he had been a cat, he would be purring because with the change came a gentle warmth. It flowed through his body and he stopped shivering...despite the fact that the temperature was continuing to drop.
"You're lying. I'm strong but not strong enough to break through a rib completely." The girl replied.
The warmth completely enveloped him, leaving no part of him untouched. What was he experiencing? Was it magic and if so, why did it feel so amazingly good?
"It takes a lot of courage to kill an injured man in front of so many witnesses. His fourth rib had been broken some time ago but it had not fully mended. A hairline fracture still remained...all it would take was a few well placed kicks and pop...then a single moment of pressure...the heel of someone's boot for instanceā¦" the red head continued her other hand coming to cover the exact spot where he had been injured.
Oh shit...he was sensing the shift in his goddess's emotional state, but the constant warmth flowing through his body kept him calm despite how tense the atmosphere was becoming.
"I didn't know...honest i didn't." The Celtic girl said quickly...she finally realized what she had nearly done.
"Do you know what it feels like to drown, Miss McCreedy?" The red head asked her tone level but her right hand knotted into his cloak, "Because I do. You try to hold your breath but the longer you do, the more your lungs begin to burn."
Killian heard gasping noises from Rem's direction...no, she couldn't be...the hand in the cloak tightening and the noises get louder.
"Now in most liquids, a person would pass out from the lack of air...but when your lungs are filled with the essence that flows through your veins...now that is when things get a bit...messy." She continued her right hand releasing his cloak and coming back to rest on his arm.
The gasping noises turned into wet, gagging sounds as the Crimson haired woman scratched along his scalp gently. That sensation coupled with the constant warmth circulating his body...he was becoming quite drowsy and somewhat aroused, his member twitching in response to her actions.
Were it not for the almost choking noises coming from Rem's direction, he would have just gone to sleep. Was that what his goddess wanted...for him to go to sleep and not witness her chilling cruelty?
"When a lung is punctured by bone, it rips instead of slices, tears instead of saws. You bleed internally of course but when your life essence enters your lungs, it's sticky and congeals...do you want to know how it feels to drown in your own blood...like he was?" The red head continued her tone becoming darker but was still level and conversational,
"He was choking, his own blood killing him. The pain alone would bring even war veterans to tears. They would weep from the agony and cry out in pain, but he couldn't even do that. His own rib cutting through his lung every time he tried to breathe.
The blood pouring from his mouth because his lungs were completely filled already and when blood is in the lungs, it weighs them down, solidifying...each breath he tries to take...a moment of infinite agony.
All the while...he is awake...he is aware...the sheering pain preventing him from losing consciousness. He knows that he is moments away from that final journey that we all must take. He was facing the absolution of certain death, knowing that there was nothing he could do...powerless to save himself.
Just as you are now." She finished, the last sentence filled with so much venom and a frigid bloodlust that it induced terror in all who heard it.
There was the sound of something hitting the ground...Rem...sweet lord...she was killing Rem. What was he supposed to do?
It was one thing for him to kill someone⦠he's a pirate, kind of in the job description, but his goddess...The Crimson Savior...no, she shouldn't have to do that. Her hands should not be stained with blood.
The Captain of the Jolly Roger had to make a choice; the soul of his goddess or the breaking of his own heart? Who was he kidding...there was no choice for he had already decided.
The Scourge of the Sea, Captain Hook, was slipping away. The Crimson Savior forcing him to step into the light, confronting the very darkness that he once called home...the Dark Captain was fading away or was the darkness infecting the goddess that saved him? Was she becoming like him or worse...a Dark Savior?
