Mark of the Damned | 18+

1, 2

Song - 1,2 by Lissie

The wind has calmed down, the ship coming to a standstill as I tie off the last piece of thread on the final sail. I feel shaky and unsteady. I can't blame it on the ship. I know exactly what it is.

Every time I look over my shoulder, he's watching me. His jaw is clenched and his shoulders tense, he looks like he wants to throw me overboard himself. I don't know what I did to make him angry, but I need to fix it. I must have done something wrong.

The orange streaks across the sky that signal sunset on the horizon shower him in golden light. His skin glows. My heart lurches against my chest. I can't peel my gaze away from him. I know I need to hang the wash to dry, but I just want to watch him. He's distracting me from my tasks.

He seems at ease on the sea. His steps are sure and steady. There is no hesitation or doubt, no fear. He climbs up to the highest crow's nests, ties ropes, and jumps down to the deck below. It's second nature to him. He's graceful and calm. He never stops to think, he just does. It's intoxicating to watch.

Lingering longer than I should, I watch the muscles in his back move beneath his skin, flexing and shaking as he pulls buckets of water up to wash the deck. Dropping to his hands and knees, he scrubs the wooden planks. Something about his body in that position, the way he moves, the strength of his arms...

Gripping the side of the nest with white knuckles, I feel my body heat up. My cheeks burn as I remember the feeling of his body pressed between my legs. The more I think about it, the more it becomes clear. I liked it. I really liked it. I want him to do it again. I can hear him breathing from here. As he hoists full buckets up and dumps them, he lets out panting breaths and quiet grunts. The sounds are... arousing.

Suddenly, he turns, looking up at me with a smirk on his face. He caught me. The anger that has been etched into his face is gone, replaced with mischief.

Dropping down, I hide in the crow's nest. What is wrong with me? I can't control my gaze, it wanders to him, and I can't stop it. After taking a few deep breaths, I climb down the ladder and run away with my eyes glued to the ground. I rush through the laundry, throwing the clothes on the line as fast as I possibly can.

Once I'm safely hidden in the galley, away from him, the focus I had hoped to find is nowhere to be found.

The men in the cabin are panicking again, distressed by the sudden lack of wind. The tension in the air is palpable. Mick is still watching me with suspicion, and Big Jones is watching him. Everyone is grumbling and irritated. I'm afraid that even the smallest movement or sound will set them off.

"Dinner for the crew," I set the last plate on the crates we're using in place of the table and back away quickly, rushing to avoid the stampede.

As they eat, the mood shifts. The scowls are still etched into their faces, but they're softer. Less angry. By the time every last crumb is gone, a few of them crack jokes, elbowing each other in the ribs playfully.

"The potatoes were good tonight," Mick mumbles, catching me by surprise.

When my eyes jerk up to meet him, I find the same suspicious expression, but maybe it's not suspicion at all. It could be shame.

"I didn't mean to hurt that woman. I couldn't control the beast. None of us can." He hangs his head. "Except Silver..."

An angry growl from behind us interrupts whatever he had planned to say.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Mick." Cooper grabs him by the neck so quickly that I don't have time to react before they are fighting. "I told you. Leave her the fuck alone," each word snarled through clenched teeth.

"Wait, Cooper, no!" I reach for his arm, but they jerk away, "He wasn't doing anything."

Mick shoves him back, pushing him dangerously close to the galley.

"Please!" I beg, stepping forward again to grab his arm. "He was complimenting the potatoes! He wasn't doing anything!"

"I won't hurt your girl, Silver," Mick loosens his grip on his shoulders. I can only see the side of his face, but the sincerity is clear, even to me.

The anger slowly starts to fade from his face as he understands the situation.

Mick mumbles something to him that I can't quite hear and leaves us alone in the cabin. Whenever we're alone, the room always feels smaller. His body takes up all of the space, all of the air.

His tongue runs over his lower lip, and my body shivers.

"I'm half starved," Potter barges into the room, ruining everything.

We quickly step apart, putting some much-needed distance between us. Pressed into the corner, I eat, keeping my eyes focused on my food. I feel his gaze like a physical touch against my skin. He's watching me.

"Finish your tasks," his voice is soft as he turns away from me. "First watch out, second watch get to your racks." He growls, grabbing his father's food and stomping outside.

The weight of the day feels heavy on my shoulders as I scrub the galley clean. I'm exhausted, so I only linger a few minutes longer than I should, hoping that he will have a reason to come inside. It's rare that the watch crew comes into the cabin, but I always hope.

Sinking into my hammock, with the weariness all the way down in my bones, I fall to sleep instantly.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but it feels like only a second, a single blink of my eyes, when I'm woken by the creak of my door opening and then closing. I can tell it's him just by the silhouette in the dark.

"Cooper?"

"Sleep. I'm going to sleep here, on your floor. I don't trust that Captain won't try to do something." He sounds completely drained.

"I don't want you to sleep on the floor, please-"

"Go to sleep, Niamh."

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