Chains of the Past

The candle burned low, dripping slow tears of wax onto the warped table beside me. The room was heavy with the scent of sea salt and rain-soaked timber, the inn’s walls breathing with the wind outside. The child slept at last, curled in Isabella’s arms, her tiny chest rising and falling against the tattered folds of her mother’s dress. The sound of her breathing grated on me. Too soft. Too human. Too much a reminder of everything that had been taken from me.

“She should be with her nurse,” I said.
“She has no nurse,” Isabella murmured without looking up.

Her voice was small, distant.

“You killed them all when you burned the castle.”

The words struck the air like stones on still water. I didn’t flinch.

“Then she’ll have one now,” I said, rising from the chair.

Isabella stiffened when I stepped toward her.

“No...”

I didn’t listen. My hands closed around the bundle before she could pull away. The child stirred, whimpering once, her small hands brushing against my sleeve as if she could sense what I was. Isabella rose, but I was already turning, the infant held firm against my chest.

“Mauve will see to her,” I said. “You’ll have her back when I decide it.”
“You can’t....”
“I can,” I said sharply, my tone enough to silence her. “I will.”

I crossed the narrow room, the boards groaning beneath my boots, and threw open the door. Mauve stood just beyond it, waiting, as she always did. Her expression didn’t change when I handed the child to her.

“See that she sleeps,” I ordered. “Keep her quiet. I’ve no patience for wailing tonight.”

Mauve looked down at the little girl, her arms surprisingly gentle.

“Aye, Captain.”

She turned and left without another word, her shadow disappearing into the dim corridor. When I closed the door again, the silence was different. Thicker. It pressed against the walls and into the spaces between us. Isabella stood near the bed, her eyes wide and glassy in the flickering candlelight. Her hands were trembling, not from fear of what I might do, but from what she already knew. She was no longer a queen, no longer a mother with a castle and a husband and a kingdom behind her name. She was my wife again, in name, in circumstance, in the cruel binding of old vows.

“You think this will break me,” she whispered.

I said nothing. Her voice rose, a tremor running through it.

“You think I’ll become what I was before, quiet, obedient, pretending not to hear the screams above deck when you punished your men.”
“I don’t care what you become,” I said. “You’re mine again. That’s all that matters.”

She laughed once, a bitter, hollow sound.

“You bought me, Captain, but you never owned me.”

I stepped closer, the space between us closing like the slow swing of a noose. Her back hit the bedpost, and I saw the flicker of terror in her eyes, the old kind, the one that never truly leaves. I didn’t touch her. I didn’t need to. Fear, when earned, is more powerful than any blade.

“You misunderstand,” I said quietly. “This isn’t about love, Isabella. Or hate. It’s about balance. You upset it when you betrayed me. I’m only setting the scales right.”

Her breath came faster.

“You’ll never have peace. Not after this.”
“Peace,” I said, almost to myself. “I buried that long ago.”

The candlelight caught the scar that ran from my temple to my jaw, a wound carved by the same battle that had stolen everything. I saw her look at it, and for a heartbeat, the silence felt alive between us. I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. At the window, the harbor lights danced on the black water like dying stars. The ship waited beyond them, dark and unfinished, stripped bare of her soul. Not for long. By this time tomorrow, she would sail again under my flag, reborn, as I had been.
Behind me, I heard the faint sound of movement, Isabella sinking onto the bed, her breath unsteady. Outside, the wind shifted, carrying with it the low, distant sound of the tide turning. The night was almost over. The reckoning had only just begun.

Before Isabella could scream, I sat down heavily on the bed, my hand clamped down over her mouth.

"Shh, pet, your struggle will wake the dead."

A laugh escaped my lips as I remembered the way that she used to squirm beneath my touch. The way that her body responded to my touch, even though she tried to hide her pleasure. It had been a long time since I had my way with a woman. Her breath hitched as my erection pressed against her thigh. My body pressed her into the thin mattress. My other hand slid over her dress, stopping just above the swell of her breast. She groaned as my lips crashed into her neck, and I sank my teeth into the soft skin of her neck. Her attempts to resist were futile. My hand slid down further until it slipped underneath her tattered dress. Her breath hitched again as I slowly moved my hand up to her inner thigh.

My hand slid under her silk underwear and into her opening. I felt her stiffen a moan as I pumped my fingers in and out of her opening. Her body betrayed her as she got wetter. Before she could protest, I slid my fingers out and flipped her onto her stomach. She tried to move away from me, but my hand snaked around her waist, anchoring her in place. I reached down and unfastened my belt buckle. She winced as it hit the floor with a metallic thud. She knew what I was about to do. She once again tried to move out of my grip. My grip tightened as my fingernails dug into her side. She groaned in pain.

With a swift movement, I released my erection from the confines of my trousers. I felt her flinch as I pressed it against her inner thigh. She flinched as it twitched against her. Before she could say a word, I shoved my massive dick into her opening. I felt her core stretch around me, and I relished in the scream that tore from her lips.

"You cannot pretend that I do not satisfy you, pet. I am more of a man than James ever was."

Her only response was screams as I continued to ravage her. I thrust into her fast and hard, pushing her beyond her physical limits. I sank myself deep into her core. She hated it, but moans escaped from her mouth, though she tried to suppress them. I fucked her fast and hard the entire night, finishing several times in her. By the next morning, she was well spent, and dripping with my cum. She just lay on the bed and glared at me, but she did not speak. She knew that I had reclaimed what was rightfully mine, and that I would take her whenever and however I pleased.