Page 79 of The Worst of Them

“If anyone gets to kill you,” he said, breathless, “it’s me, for all I’ve endured at your hand.”

He leaped for her, striking a blow to her sword that nearly threw her off balance. She planted her heel and threw him back, pushing him toward the wall. But then he lunged, sank to the floor, and slid past her, aiming for her knees. She jumped, pulling her limbs beyond his reach.

The bartender was beside himself, but didn’t dare come out from behind the counter.

Jack rose to his feet. “You exhaust me,” he groused. “Annoy me. Infuriate me.”

“Then be rid of me,” she said. “Throw one of your pretty little knives at my throat.”

“No.” He spun his sword. “When I kill you, it’ll be with the weapon you fancy yourself to be such a master at wielding.”

She spun her blade as well, mimicking him as they prowled around one another through the open space—and oh how she burned. From alcohol, from rage, from glee.

They moved for each other, and with a flurry of complicated footwork and clashing swords, Cecily perfectly executed the move she’d learned from Jack weeks ago. Her heel stayed on the ground, her power carried her through, and she thrust⁠—

And found nothing.

Jack appeared behind her. He gripped her arm, spun her, then shoved her back into the stone wall. As his forearm pinned her shoulders, she lodged the sharp edge of her dagger against his neck at the same time his blade kissed her throat.

All she had to do was drag the knife through his flesh and he’d be dead. Nicely, perfectly dead. Then she’d be free.

But she didn’t.

He didn’t.

They stood there, glaring, their knives pressed to each other’s jugulars, their hands steady as they held each other on the precipice of death. But her body had stopped obeying. Her blood sang, her entire being flooded with heat as his breath caressed her parted lips.

Jack’s gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth. Their chests heaved, but then he let out a short, shallow breath, like a sigh—but not at all a resignation.

She didn’t know who moved first. Maybe they moved at the same time, but suddenly there was no more space between them as their lips crashed together. Her eyes slipped closed and his knife was gone, his hand on her waist, the other on the back of her neck, pulling her flush against him.

“Finally,” came Hein’s groan from across the room.

“Drop the knife,” Jack grumbled against her mouth. Her fingers relaxed, and the dagger fell. Distantly, she heard Hein’s sword clatter to the floor with it.

And she was being kissed.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, anchoring him to her. Hard lines of muscle pressed against her knuckles, and her heart kicked into a rhythm that stole her sense and left her with nothing but the feeling of him⁠—

Jack parted her lips, drawing her deeper, kissing her harder, like he needed it, needed her as badly as she needed him. She gasped, filling her lungs with his warm breath, and the last bits of ice melted from her heart as she finally surrendered it to him.

It had been his for weeks, and she was a fool for trying to make it any other way.

She would have been content to stay here, eager to forget everything around her, but he broke away. Her eyes opened. The malice had vanished from his gaze, but a dangerous spark remained.

“You’re mine,” he said. Then to the bartender’s delight, Jack grabbed her hand and hauled her out the door.

19

LOVE AND WAR

Jack set a brisk pace through the streets of Tortuga, his hair gilded in the light streaming from windows and open doors. His hand was tight around hers as he led her—marched her, really—toward the edge of the city where the silhouettes of trees swayed in the warm breeze.

Cecily stared at his back, his arm, his fingers against her skin, and she touched her lips and wondered what on earth⁠—

“I told you not to go out alone,” Jack said, his voice thick. “I told you it was dangerous, and you ran off anyway.” He halted and faced her, anger returning to his eyes. “Why’d you do it?”

She shook her head, fighting for words. Were they being honest now? Had those lips just kissed her to the point where she’d gladly hand her heart to him, regardless of everything broken between them? Or had his kiss only been a ruse to win their fight?