As Amara swayed softly in her cage, looking terrified, the pirate captain watched her closely, reading her reactions. "You begin to realize the hopelessness of your plight," he said. "But take heart, I am not entirely without mercy. You have fire in those eyes, and knowledge of ancient ways I have not seen since I was a boy. Share your secrets with me, beautiful witch, and I can make your cage more...comfortable."

Amara suppressed a retort, glancing down with feigned shame at her exposed body. She needed time to gather her strength and formulate a new plan. With great reluctance, she gave him a slight nod.

"Excellent." He drew a silver key from his sash and unlocked her cage door. "Come, we shall speak more privately in my quarters." He held out a hand to help her rise. Mustering all her courage, Amara took it. His grip was iron as he led her barefoot across the pitching deck. She kept her eyes fixed ahead, avoiding the leering gazes of the crewmen, using the sway of the ship to press closer against the captain's side. If he thought her his willing conquest, it could buy her time.

He ushered her into a spacious cabin at the ship's stern, furnished with silk cushions and ornate lamps looted from distant temples. Built-in cabinets overflowed with rolled maps, ancient texts, and other treasures, hinting at this man's appetite for mysteries and esoteric lore.

Exactly what had drawn her to the southern seas and the legend of the Hallow Skull. Amara nervously wet her lips. Could this pirate captain know more of that fabled artefact? Dare she even ask, or would it place her quest in even greater peril? She hesitated, unsure, as he drew two silver goblets and a bottle of wine from a cedar chest.

"Some refreshment, my dear, before we become better acquainted." He filled the cups with dark purple liquid that smelled of sun-ripened fruit and rare eastern spices. Despite herself, Amara thirstily drank deep. The liquor was potent as fire yet smooth as silk, restoring warmth to her numb limbs and a tingle to her senses.

The captain drank as well with his green eyes radiating with amusement at her over her goblet's rim. "It has been long since a woman shared my quarters willingly," he remarked, refilling her cup. "I am called Rhys the Relentless, Scourge of the Ten Isles." He watched closely for her reaction.

Amara hid her shock behind another drink. The gods truly hated her. Of all the notorious pirates in these waters, she had fallen prey to the worst. Rhys the Relentless was a living legend, known for taking what he wanted by guile or force and showing no mercy. His warship the Black Dragon had never been defeated in battle. No locked door or hidden cove could keep him from his desires.

Rhys grinned at her over his goblet, swirling the wine. "My reputation precedes me, I see. Yes, your predicament is quite hopeless. None can stand against me in these waters." He leaned closer, the heady scent of wine and spice perfuming the air between them. "That is why I advise you make the best of your captivity here."

He reached out to caress her cheek, but Amara turned away. "If you expect me to become your slave, you will find yourself disappointed."

Anger flared in the pirate's green eyes, but he checked himself. "No, not a slave. I will make you my consort, to stand beside my throne when I unite all the isles under my rule." His roaming hand moved to grasp her wrist in an unbreakable hold. "Give yourself willingly to me now, lovely witch, and you will be rewarded with riches beyond imagining."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He drew her against him, one hand pressing her bare hip while the other wound through her unbound hair, gripping tight. "Refuse me, and I will take what I want regardless. But instead of silks and jewels you will have only chains." To punctuate this threat his grip twisted, making Amara gasp.

Rage boiled inside her, but she forced herself to go limp and pliant in his grasp. "I see I have no choice but to submit...for now."

Rhys's eyes blazed with triumph. Still holding her fast, he brought his lips down on hers in a hard, claiming kiss. Amara froze, every instinct screaming to fight or flee. But she made herself respond, parting her lips, using her body to distract him while her mind raced frantically. She needed to somehow turn the tables on this arrogant brute...

Her hands found their way inside his open shirt, roaming across hot, tight muscle. Despite herself, a flush rose to her cheeks. Rhys groaned against her mouth at her touch, his grip loosening fractionally. His arrogance would be his undoing, Amara realized with slowly dawning hope. She intensified the kiss, twining her tongue with his, letting her nails rake down his chest. He broke away with a ragged gasp.

"By the gods, if your magic in bed matches that kiss, I've found a prize beyond price." His breathing came harder as he reached for the laces of his pants.

"Allow me, my captain," Amara purred, dropping to her knees before him. The wine had brought a reckless fire to her veins, banishing caution. One way or another, she was leaving this cabin a free woman. She undid his trousers, reaching to claim her prize...and instead grasped a small vial hidden in her clenched fist. With her other hand she traced burning runes across his bare thighs, runes of paralysis and impotence. Rhys froze, confusion turning to rage, but too late.

"You treacherous witch! I'll have you flogged and chained!" He reached for her, but Amara danced back out of reach, splashing the potion from the vial onto his loins. At once his prodigious manhood withered and shrank to a nubbin. Rhys roared, clutching himself in disbelief.

Amara blew him a kiss, then snatched up a discarded silk robe and fled the cabin, leaving the pirate lord cursing furiously behind her. She raced onto the deck, throwing all caution aside now.

"Stop that woman!" Rhys bellowed from the door of his cabin. "Five hundred gold to whoever brings her to me unspoiled!"

“Aye!”

The crew rushed to obey, swords and daggers already drawn in the morning light. But Amara had not studied long years in the arcane arts for nothing. She whispered a word and her palm filled with shimmering powder. With a sweeping gesture she hurled it at the pirates, then snapped her fingers. The powder ignited in a blinding flare, leaving the men stumbling about and rubbing their eyes.

“Ah! Mi eyes burn!”

“Cease that witch!”

Amara leapt up onto the rail, balancing atop it effortlessly despite the rocking of the ship. She raised her arms, letting the wind catch her billowing robe as she invoked the language of ultimate command. The sea churned and heaved, giant swells began rushing the ship from all sides. Men cried out and grabbed for handholds as the deck canted wildly.

With a defiant laugh, Amara dove into the waters. The pirate's cries faded behind her as she swam for a nearby island that had a tangle of white sand and palm trees. She staggered from the surf onto blessed solid ground, her limbs trembling with spent magic. But she was free.

She turned to gaze back at the pirate ship foundering on the rough seas. Rhys stood at the rail, staring after her. Even at this distance, his emerald eyes burned with thwarted desire. Amara blew him one last kiss, then vanished into the verdant island jungle. She had escaped the Relentless One, but surely he would not rest until he found her again. Her quest for the Hallow Skull had just become immeasurably more dangerous...and deliciously exciting.