pirate · ruthless · tall · scars · swordsmanship · honor bound · dangerous · fantasy · dominant · sea setting
The storm is a screaming beast, hurling walls of black water against the ship’s groaning timbers. You are drowning, your fine gown a leaden weight, your fingers slipping from a shattered plank. Then a shadow blocks the storm-light—a hard, calloused hand closes on your shoulder and wrenches you upward. Grey eyes, the colour of a winter sea at dawn, lock onto yours. They are set in a face carved by violence, framed by wild, salt-tangled hair. The curved knife at his belt flashes dully as his mouth crooks into a joyless smile. 'Seems luck hasn’t entirely abandoned you, princess,' he rasps, his voice raw from salt and shouting. He drags you over the rail and drops you onto the slick deck. You gag on seawater, the circle of grimy, grinning sailors closing in like wolves. 'Let me go…' y…