A Pirate's Kiss (Wattys Winner 2011)

Chapter Seven | Handcuffed

He seemed to come to a little more, reaching up with a lethargic hand to touch the swollen mass that was his second forehead, his silver eyes blinking open blearily. Slowly his fingers assessed the size of the mound and that seemed to wake him a little more. He groaned again.

For a moment I felt a slight twinge of guilt. Cobalt didn't actually seem that bad, and I hadn't meant to hit him with a bottle of rum. I had mistaken him for someone more ferocious, stubborn and downright murderous. It wasn't Cobalt's fault his brother was Satan.

My hands that were lax at my sides suddenly curled into tight fists as I realized I was siding with a pirate. Cobalt deserved just as much as his brother, if not more. He was the one who had actually lied to my face at the ball - putting on an act while plotting my kidnapping behind my back. My Father's anguished expression inadvertently sprang to mind as I remembered the real traitor in this whole mess and the thought made my eyes grow hot with emotion. 

Traitorous. 

I gritted my teeth and hardened my resolve. Picturing my Father made my next move that much easier and as Cobalt raised his hand to his head again, I was already pulling out the iron pan that was used to heat the sheets at night and raising it above my head. 

To give him credit, he managed to wake up enough to see it coming. I advanced towards him with a smirk curling my lips and he stared at me with his dazed eyes widening rapidly. I was going to enjoy this. 

"Circe? What's going- Circe, what's that you're holding . . . Circe put that down, you don't know what you're doing! No! Wait! Don-

Thud.

*

Sometime later I wiped the sweat from my forehead and stepped back to survey my handiwork with a sigh. It really was surprising what you could find in a pirate's room when you really searched the place.

After an (extraordinarily) large amount of pushing and shoving, I had managed to heave Cobalt onto the bed. Now his head was lolling forwards onto his chest, his shaggy black hair covering his eyes, and his hands locked onto the iron headrest with some suspiciously new looking handcuffs I had found in his bedside draw. 

It didn't bother me that I couldn't find the key to unlock them. If he used them for what I thought he did, then he should be used to it. I shuddered at the thought. Urgh. Pirate fetishes.

I crept over to the bed - still wielding the heating pan - and tried to plan my next move. It was a surprise I had gotten this far, and I hadn't exactly decided what to do next. Obviously escape was ideal ... but probably unrealistic. 

Cobalt was still unconscious, his appearance a little worse for wear, his white shirt a little mussed ... alright, ripped, from when I had unceremoniously used it to drag him up off the floor and onto the bed. I had been trying avoid all possible contact, alright?

Swallowing, I poked him in the head with the pan. Nothing happened. I turned the pan around and prodded him in the nose with the handle.

I giggled and couldn't resist shoving it up his nose the tiniest bit. And then a little bit more. I laughed again, he looked like drunken pig. Removing the handle, I almost choked with mirth as I moved the handle along his lips slowly, my voice deepening into a mock imitation of his own, much more sultry tone.

"Mmm, Cobalt is a big bad pirate who likes kidnapping little girls and eating bogies for his dinner. Yum, yum, yum."

Suddenly the big bad pirate in question grunted and his head flopped towards me. I squeaked with fright, ducking down behind the mattress. "Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me." I chanted fiercely, holding the pan above my head like a shield.