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Give me that treasure, matey! (Autumn and LifeonMars)

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AutumnDreaming

Star
Joined
Jan 9, 2009
In the world of men, one may ask how Eve Hawkins became the Captain of The Deadly Siren. After all, she was a beautiful creature with shapely legs supporting her petite frame, long wavy auburn hair, and intense green eyes. But take away all of that and she was a fearsome woman with daring piercings, bold tattoos, and a deadly attitude. It wasn't her fault that her English parents orphaned her, leaving her in the care of eight elder brothers who had already chosen the life at sea. She was young and small, never once being seen as a threat so the men aboard the ship taught her to be ruthless and a skilled fighter. They challenged her, never dreaming that one day she would become fierce and slay more men than any of them combined. They were intimidated by her, too frightened by her beauty to stand up to her.

When she was only sixteen, she challenged the captain -a fierce man whose skin was stained with blood- to the rights to his ship. He'd often seen her as a pest, but the others wouldn't let him harm her. He laughed heartily at the thought of a sixteen-year-old female commanding his ship, but he knew he could kill her quickly. His fatal mistake was underestimating her size and agility, and by the time he saw the dagger being raised to his chest, it was too late. That was 12 years ago.

For over a decade, Eve terrorized the seas, having no mercy on anyone she captured. Her name was infamous, earning her the nickname of Bloody Evie. Ships either tried to avoid crossing her path or outrun her, which they never succeeded. She was extremely wealthy, the source of that abundance coming from a map she had pilfered from another captain while docking in a town to replenish supplies. It led to an island not easily found by simple coordinates, but the riches there were endless. Not trusting her crew, she disembarked alone so that only she knew the whereabouts of the treasure. Being intelligent, she knew that the majority of her discoveries were safer on the land so she only took a few gold items to sell. No one knew the real whereabouts of the loot except for herself and the old captain who previously owned it. Dead men could tell no tales, however.

The waters of the Ocean were extremely disturbed on this night, the impending storm looming over them. The horizon was gray and foggy, making it nearly impossible to see her course. Rain poured mercilessly over them, thunder booming in the background. From a distance, she could see another ship. "Prepare the cannons!" She called out to her men, though the rocky waters were going to make that a difficult task. "Even in a storm, we leave no ship afloat!"
 
Within the hidden veil of the storm the ship "The Good Fortune" sailed towards it's prey. She was strong and she was fast, with twelve cannons and a full crew of the most wretched men to be born of women. Her crew was preparing themselves for battle, climbing the rigging and working her to full efficiency to keep her from being dashed to bits by the storm. In the middle of the deck one man stood still, towering over the others as he watched The Deadly Siren shadow growing more and more clear. His hand, toughened by the sun and toil, scratched his chin in thought. Tonight, everything would be coming to him.

Captain James Morris, or his more apt persona, "Murderous" Morris, was one the the most feared men to sail the seven seas. He was said to have captured over a thousand ships in his time, and to have plundered enough riches to buy off the queen himself as his personal whore. Standing over six feet tall and with a broad, muscular chest he was terror personified with long black hair and a hardened face that marked him as a man more willing to murder than look at ya. He wore a black long coat and tricorner hat, both marked with numerous pistol shot and stab wounds. Underneath his body was covered in various scars from his battles, for he never stood behind while his crew engaged in bloodshed.

It was rumored he could not be killed, for no matter how badly his was injured or how many times he was shot he simply would not back down. Some say it was because he had died years ago and the devil had taken his skin as his own. Others said it was because the devil feared him so much he would not allow him to die. His closest mates knew the truth however: he was just to stubborn, to full of fire to die.

His first mate came up to him, shielding himself from the wind and rain as he tired to talk to his Captain. "Be is wise to attack in this weather Sir?" He cried out. "Can 'ardly see in this blasted gail!"

Morris just laughed. "If you think a drizzle like this will keep me from my prize you are sorely mistaken! Tell the men to raise the black flag and ready their swords. Muskets will be useless in this wetness!" His grin grew even eider at the though, always preferring the clash of sword and steel over the shot of powder. His ran his hands over his cutlass in anticipation, eagerly looking forward to his confrontation with the legendary Bloody Evie. "They won't be expecting an attack on themselves in this storm. Let's she how she fares when the tables are turned for once."
 
Self-confidence, maybe even arrogance, was the underlying trait that made her the pirate she had become. She was truly a defiance of stereotypes, choosing to rise above the limitations of being a beautiful, petite woman. In fact, she used it all to her advantage, only confirming her heart of stone. Arrogance was dangerous, though, as it bested all logic with her. She never feared being defeated because her sheer determination didn't allow for any doubt in her mind. Eve knew that one day the very real possibility of being captured could occur, but when that day came she would accept her fate. She was a legend that would outlast the sands of time, though the one to overpower her would live in infamy forever, too.

The other ship was gaining speed, quickly approaching her vessel. The Deadly Siren turned her massive starboard side, anchoring firmly in the direct center of The Good Fortune's path. The black flag of the enemy ship was raised, waving its intentions to her. "Raise the flags!" She screamed, voice rising above the howl of the wind. "Show them no mercy!" Eve stood proudly on the deck, eyes like two emeralds remaining locked on the enemy, shielded by the black hat situated firmly atop her head. Behind her, the enormous crimson flag of death rippled in the wind, its emblem of black and gold visible even in the pitch of night.

While the crew worked deftly to prepare for a battle, Bloody Evie reached up to grasp a rope near a mast, hoisting herself up on the ledge of the ship. Freezing rain licked at her body, soaking her clothes, though her blood boiled too fiercely beneath her veins for her to notice the cold. Full lips were set into a smirk, enthralled by the challenge of a ship that dared to be hostile toward her. The forceful breeze rocked them on the sea like a cradle, but Eve's balance never faltered.

"We're ready, my Captain." The voice of her first mate, her last living brother, called out to her. Eve never looked back at Avery, but her voice boomed once more. "Men, tonight we become richer than ever before! Get ready to ATTACK!"
 
A wave of excitement passed over the crew as The Deadly Siren prepared herself for battle. Morris drew his cutlass and raised it to the darkened skies. "Hard to starboard and prepare the cannons! Make sure you don't sink her now, we need the Captain alive!" His men let out a hearty roar in response, readying themselves for battle. Like spiders the crawled up the rigging, grasping ropes to ready themselves for boarding.

The Good Fortune turned hard to starboard, her anchor catching on the sea floor and stopping them from ramming the enemy. The two ships were evenly matched in size and firepower, it would surely come down to a clash of swords to determine the victor. In the haze of rain and wind Captain Morris could barley make out the enemy, but a lone finger hanging onto the mast caught his eye. Somehow he could feel her presence there, the way a wolf knew another had entered its territory. He grinned as his men jeered and roared at the other ship, their swords ready to make food for the sharks.

Without wasting any time Morris called to arms! "FIRE!" Below his cannons burst to life, their charges firing in a deafening explosion that Morris knew by heart. The cannons tore into the The Deadly Siren, his men aiming to incapacitate rather than destroy in order to protect their investment. Without skipping a beat Morris pointed his cutlass towards their prey, giving the signal to board. "Leave their Captain to me! Only I am allowed to take her down!"
 
The two captains of opposing ships were in sync, Eve yelling out "Fire!" at the exact moment he had given the order across the way. The thunderous boom rang out more loudly than the echoes in the sky, almost as if their war was a challenged to God, Himself. Cannons soared through the air in opposite directions, though hers had the intention of destroying The Good Fortune. Eve only had a moment to watch a few of her cannons catapult into the other vessel before the powerful blows collided into her beloved ship.

Nearly knocked off the ledge, she tightened her grip about the column, green eyes searching through the haze to find her equal rank. There, centered among the crew, was a man with his cutlass pointed directly at them. They were coming aboard. Smirk dropped from her face, the shock of the truth settling across her features. Before she could warn her crew, her brother's voice shouted a warning. "They're coming aboard!"

"Slash them to pieces!" Eve screamed, turning to jump off her perch onto the deck. There was an understanding between herself and the men that no one ever touched the enemy captain. They knew better than to rob Bloody Evie of that victory; the halls of the inside quarters were decorated with the swords of fallen captains who thought they could defeat her.

Eve pushed herself through the throng of her crew, watching as they prepared for combat. Her pulse accelerated with excitement, hopeful that the leader would come aboard, too. It had been a few days since she'd taken a life, and she was almost in a frenzy thirsting for blood.
 
For one moment all that could be heard was the sound of rain and waves churning. Then, with a crash of thunder the crew of The Good Fortune descended on the The Deadly Siren like a flock of saw hawks. The swung on ropes from their rigging, their boots and bare feet landing on deck with swords and knives drawn and ready. Without pistol this would prove to be a bloody battle, one the men would relish.

Like a pack of wild dogs they attacked, striking at the opposing pirate crew with their weapons clashing. They expected no mercy and gave none, no quarter would be given this night! The deck filled with men from both sides fighting, the sound of screams and swords filling the air. Blood mixed with seawater as the bodies fell, some of them struggling to hold down their gaping wounds.

Avery himself had been flanked by two of Morris's men, nearly getting himself skewered before he slashed one across the face and slitting the others belly open. Just as he had dispatched those louts a huge blow to the back of the head send him tumbling across the deck, Morris having joined his crew and swung aboard delivering a strike with his boot against the first mate. He just laughed at the site, searching for his quarry. He spotted her by the mast and felt his blood pumping at the sight of her, her green eyes piercing his own as her drenched clothes stuck to her body showing of her luscious figure. But it was those eyes, those cruel, bloodthirsty eyes that enticed him. With a grin he tossed off his coat, heavy with water, to the side leaving him in his white sailing shirt. He made his way towards her, shoving aside any man who dared get in his way.
 
This was a first for her: her prey boarding her ship, thus turning the tables and becoming the predator. To some, it would be disheartening but not to her. She was far more vicious than any man dared to be, and the goal of defending that which was hers only motivated her more. Bodies fell quickly from both sides, the crimson liquid splashing down on her like the rain. The stench of death was powerful, but the aroma was like perfume to her nostrils.

From her stance, Eve could see who she presumed to be Murderous Morris boarding The Deadly Siren. The smirk of arrogance crept across her face again, watching as he booted some poor wretch. It was only when the victim's face was illuminated by the lightning that she recognized him. Avery, her Avery. Tears would have been shed for him had she been capable of any such emotion. Instead, it only added fuel to the fire, the internal flames burning wildly. Plump lips twisted into a scowl as her intimidating stare locked on Morris.

She let out a blood-curdling scream of anger, hand extending to point directly at him. "You're mine!" She stated, following suit by pulling off her own coat to reveal a white-bodice top with scarlet sleeves. She wanted the fight to be fair and even so that she could say she killed him without any advantages. Her hat blew off her head, unleashing wild red waves. Heavy feet picked up quickly, advancing toward him. With eyes still locked on his face, her left hand reached for her blade, drawing it quickly. Arm waved with skill, slashing whoever was in her path.

When she reached him, she halted, chin tilted to him. He was much taller than her, a good seven inches, and had to double her in size, but she was not frightened. The torrential downpour stuck to her eyelashes, nearly blurring her vision, but she did not care. "Well well well, if it isn't Morris. I'm flattered you came aboard to visit, love, but it's a shame you'll be leaving so soon. I hope the sharks are hungry."
 
Morris laughed at her attitude, a fitting one for a captain of her standing. "I have no plans on staying aboard, but we will have plenty of time to get to know one another aboard my ship." His raised his blade, his wicked smile reflecting off it. "I will be taking your treasures as my own Evie, and nothing will stand in my way."

She was even more beautiful than the rumors spoke of. The rain soaked through her bodice, giving him an enticing view of her body. Her red hair blew in the wind, her face full of fire and a beauty most rare. Perhaps that map would not be the only treasure he plundered this night...

The ships moved with the ocean as the waves churned around them, several men being dragged overboard as a wave swept over the deck on Morris's ship. The bloodshed had not stopped for a moment, but the screams and cries of the others fell on deaf ears as all Morris could focus on was the woman in front of him. With a roar he charged, his blade posed to strike. Unfortunately he was at the disadvantage, aiming to capture her instead of kill. His sword came down on her own, jerking hard to the right to try and knock it out of her hands.
 
He was cocky, just like her. The difference was, he didn't have anything to prove. Perhaps a little of her attitude originated from feminism, the thirst to show her independence in a man's world. She chuckled at him, never faltering from his blade. "You have already taken something that belongs to me, but no more of my treasures will be your own." Head nodded in the direction of her brother. "My blood and his were the same and in exchange for that, I will serve him justice. Life for a life."

Instinct told her to strike, but she was holding back. She wanted him to be the one to initiate the combat, to let him feel like he had the upper hand for the moment. Eve could feel his eyes burning on her body, a distraction he could not afford. Her free hand went to her hip, awaiting for his charge.

Finally, it came. He was skilled, but he was sloppy. She turned her body quickly, missing the knife to her body. However, it seemed he was aimed to disarm her, not harm her. Left foot stepped to the side, pivoting her body around. Her weapon was tossed into the air, caught with her right hand. Ambidextrous, a hidden talent. Right wrist flicked, slashing at his arm.

Unfortunately, the battle of the others was catching up to them. She'd have no way of seeing one of his crew members being knocked backward, crashing into her and knocking her off balance. Fate made the weapon crash to the ground with a sting, quickly changing the outcome of the fight. She wasted no time to wait for him, lunging quickly for the blade.
 
Hmm, he had almost forgotten about that chap he belted. "Your brother eh? Let's hope you can last longer than he!"

He had been to cocky, her size and beauty giving him a false impression of weakness. He should have known better after hearing the stories in the taverns and ports. His blade didn't even come close as she moved to the side, taking him completely off guard. She was like the ocean itself, fluid and graceful, but also harsh and deadly. He knew this when he felt her blade slash at his arm, cutting through shirt and skin and drawing blood. He didn't cry out, only gritting his teeth as the blood soaked into the white of his clothing. "You fight well, for a woman at least," he said with a grin, knowing such a comment would be rile her.

He saw one of his men bash into her, disrupting their fight and sending her sword across the deck. He landed near his foot and with a quick kick it was up in the air where he caught it in one hand. He looked it over, his eyes going from the blade to her as she lay kneeled on the ground. If he wanted, he could capture her now. She would be helpless against his sword.

"This is a fine blade," he said with a grin, "shall we continue?" As if they were the best of friends he handed her her sword, pulling himself back a bit to give her room to stand. He was Captain James "Murderous" Morris, and he would not have it be said he took down the infamous Bloody Evie by a stroke of luck.
 
The blood from his arm called out to her, like a beast to its prey. She laughed maniacally, lips pursed forward. "And you fight poorly for a man. I want your last thought to be how you died at the hand of a woman." She spat, her lust for blood apparent in her brilliant eyes.

Before her hand could grasp the hilt of her weapon, his foot sent it upward into his hand. She snarled as he examined it, though her heart skipped a beat. There was a brief moment when the world stopped for her, all time coming to a halt. It was just the two of them, her Golden Chalice grasped firmly in his grip. It would be a pity to die by her own blade, though it did seem honorable to her. To die and drift out to sea, a place that was so much like herself. Surely, the waves would envelop her, engulfing her fiery spirit and causing her to make the waters more dangerous.

However, when he offered it back to her, her jaw fell slightly ajar. She snatched it quickly, offering no thanks for his mercy. Eve would finish this; he would pay for his crimes. Both hands grasped the solid handle, pulling it into her chest. Her light footsteps swirled around him like a dance, her back to his. "You and I could have gone on sailing the seas in separate directions. You must be bored of this life since you are so anxious to end it." With that, she was in front of him again, her blade pointing at his neck. "But not yet. I won't make it that easy." She pulled her arm back, withdrawing it from his throat.
 
He laughed when she pulled her blade back, finding her appetite for blood invigorating. He hadn't faced an opponent like this in years. The way she moved, each step a graceful dance towards her opponents death, was truly a thing of beauty. He would have to contemplate it later on however, as right now he needed to finish this.

He snapped forward with his sword, slashing at her front and forcing her backwards. She relied on grace and movement to avoid her opponent, so he would remove that by backing her into a corner. Each slash of his blade moved them closer and closer to the bow of her ship, the rock and rolling of the waves moving the deck underneath them. He was perfectly at ease there, his sea legs perfectly balanced and his body shrugging off the torrent of rain.

As they grew closer to the edge of the edge of the ship he grabbed a marlin spike from the side of her railing, throwing the wooden club at her head while he moved in to take her down.
 
They sauntered about the deck of her ship like it was a ballroom floor, the clang of metal ringing out ever so often. She easily avoided the combat of the thinning crews, legs hopping over corpses when necessary. He was becoming faster with her movements, finding a way to use her small size against her. Amidst a battle, she was limited in her maneuvers, and his giant strides were forcing her to the bow.

Eve knew his plan, though she was stuck in avoiding it completely. The impending victory still belonged to her thus far as he was already stained with blood and she was not. Each time he made a slash, she arched back at him with twice the fervor. The tip of her sword stabbed at him several times, toying with him as she wasn't ready to make the kill.

Unfortunately for Eve, he used his brute strength to chuck another weapon at her head. She had no choice but to duck, breaking her eye contact with him. Doubled over, she charged at him, head aiming for his groin as a method of teaching him a lesson for defiling her ship.
 
He was bleeding all over from the small stab wounds that she had laid into his body, but still he showed no signs of stopping. She was toying with him, he could tell. But that insult would be forgiven, after all, he wasn't exactly serious either.

He saw her avoid his projectile, coming down low and aiming for a headbutt. This would prove her undoing as it meant she would have to come in close, right into his length of arm. Feigning ignorance he allowed her to move in close right before he he pivoted on his foot, using her own move against her and causing her to move past him. Reaching out he grabbed a handful of her red hair and yanked back on it, sending her flying backwards and right into his grasp. He let his own sword drop, using his right hand to slam into her throat and plow her right into the deck of the ship hard. The wood creaked as she hit it, disrupting the puddle that had grown on the deck. His other hand grasped her sword arm, keeping the blade from being used against him.

His grip tightened, not enough to cut off her air completely but enough to show her he had her under his control. "You've lost, my dear."
 
If there had been a moment of retrospect, Eve would have admitted to herself how stupid of a move she had made. It was the second mistake she had made in her entire lifetime as a pirate, the first being when she let anger and emotion control her actions. Bloody Evie, the legendary woman Captain known throughout the world as the most brutal killer to all of mankind, had been captured so easily with a man's bare hands. Her heart thudded against her chest walls, almost as if it was going to explode within her ribcage.

He incapacitated her with skill, his fist to her throat causing her to cough and gasp for air almost simultaneously with her short stature causing her diaphragm to slam into the wooden edge. The double blow made her dizzy, her knees buckling slightly. She felt his hand about her arm, holding her sword away from her. She held tightly to it, jerking her arm violently, though it was useless. Agility was her asset, physical strength was her weakness.

His words reverberated in her ears, the reality falling down on her like a ton of bricks. It didn't matter that she had hacked into his skin, causing his sweet blood to flow from his veins and taint his white shirt. What mattered was that everyone on the ship, whether they were from her crew or his, had stopped fighting long enough to see her at the mercy of his grip. "I will never lose." She answered, her voice rough and raspy from the assault. "I'm Bloody Evie. You will never change that."

Her fingers were growing numb, no longer able to hold on to her weapon. It slipped from her hand, the sound of it echoing throughout the night. She had been bested, that was for certain. Both of her arms went limp, her head tilting back to his shoulder. "So then end it." She whispered, eyes closing in anticipation of her death.
 
Below both crew had come to a stop, his own at the anticipation of their victory, hers in shock. Te rain poured around them thunder crashing in the heavens above as if signifying the victory of a titan. The lull in battle did not last long however. Morris's crew had been taught never to give up fighting until the enemy was completely destroyed, and with Bloody Evie herself their captive her crew was no longer of any use. The pirates let out a war cry and fell upon the pirates of the Deadly Siren, the tide of battle having turned in their favor by the huge blow to moral by Morris.

Morris watched as she waited for her end, anticipating the release the death would bring. "Oh no, my dear Evie," he said with a devilish smirk, "I am not yet done with you. You're treasure it what I'm after, and I won't kill you until I feel the wight of your gold in my hands."

He knew she would never relinquish her treasure, even in the face of death. Even now she hadn't offered to bribe him in exchange for her life, her pride too strong to stoop to such a low move. Letting her throat go reached back and with his fist hit her square in her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and allowing him to turn her on her side. Pulling out his red sash he quickly wrapped her wrists, knowing he would need to keep an eye on her to ensure she couldn't escape him.

Below the remainder of her men had thrown down her weapons, their faces tiered and bloodied as his men surrounded them. Numerous corpses littered the deck, the blood washing off the side and attracting sharks looking for an easy meal. Morris came to the top of the deck, his prize forced to her feet by his strong hands. One held her wrists back while other kept its grip on her hair, forcing her face out to look over her complete defeat.
 
Somehow, the tone of his voice indicated that the treasure aboard her ship was not what he sought. Miraculously, it seemed he had heard about the legend of the hidden treasure and even more astonishing was that he had pinned the owner of the map to being her. Even through her pain, she grinned at him. The only person embarked on The Deadly Siren who knew the whereabouts of both the map and its treasure was her. There was nothing in the world he could do to tempt its location from her lips. Already, he'd murdered her brother, her only source to humanity. He could burn her, cut her, practically stretch her into quarters and she would never tell him. It wasn't greed harboring the secret, but pride instead.

His large fist collided with her gut, causing her back to arch into him. Knees dropped her to the ground, though she never once cried out in pain. She still fought him as he tried to bind her wrists, her body squirming on the ground. Again, he had the advantage, his one hand massive enough to easily cuff her small wrists. "The battle is yours, but the war has not ended. I will kill you before this is over."

Forced to her feet, Eve's green eyes fell over her crew. They looked pathetic and defeated, as if her capture ended their lives and broke their spirits. "Do not admit defeat!" She screamed out to them. "Kill them!" But it was too late. The men who had created Bloody Evie were dying, dropping like flies onto the deck. As much as she didn't want to accept it, Eve knew the victory wasn't hers. Her body shook with rage, nostrils flaring with fury. "Take your treasure, then, Morris, but you'll find I don't have anything more than coins upon my vessel. My treasure was watching mens' lives end by my hand."
 
Morris let out a hearty laugh, his men joining with him in the hight of bloodlust. "You'll tell me your secrets Evie, so help me God! Before long I'll have you begging to lead me to your stash of gold and silver!" Oh how he had been longing for this day. Soon the treasure that rivaled the Grand Moguls would be in his hands. All that lay between him and his goals was one woman, and he had ways of making her talk.

He forced her down the stairs, his men leering at her body and cackling with delight over their victory. His first mate, Erickson, approached him. The rain was still pouring down hard, washing away the blood from his slain enemies. "Your orders Capt'n?"

Morris looked to his men, keeping Eve close as if she were a trophy. "Search the holds for any loot and divide it amongst yersevles! You earned it men!" The pirates let out a cheer and raised their swords to the dark skies, anticipating a belly full of riches below. Morris turned to Erickson, "Divide the crew in half, one for our ship and the other for The Deadly Siren." He grinned at Eve, rubbing salt into her wounds with this last insult. "Well be taking her ship as well."

"And what of her crew?" the first mate gestured to the group of disheveled men, looking miserable and defeated at the edge of the deck. They were shamed by their cowardice and couldn't even look their captain in the eye. Morris just snorted at the pitiful sight. "Throw 'em to the sharks."

Without an once of guilt the pirates set to work, charging the men and cutting into their bellies with their swords. Screams of pain and fear rang out as the men tried to fight back to no avail. One by one they went over the side, some thrown and some trying to escape, but all ended up in the mouths of the hungry creatures below. The churning waters were soon thick with blood as the sharks moved into a frenzy.

With his captive in tow Morris slammed her against the wall of her upper deck, taking her chin in hand and forcing her to look him in the eye. "I'll give you one chance, my Bloody Evie. Tell me the location of your treasure or hand over the map, least I force your tongue."
 
Of all the Seven Deadly Sins, pride was the most dangerous that Eve practiced. It kept her from showing any sort of remorse over the deaths of her entire crew. It would keep her from divulging the information he sought. It also had her wishing that she was being tossed to the ravenous sharks instead of being imprisoned on her ship by someone else who would commandeer it. The Deadly Siren. The words were remarkable to her, perhaps because she felt the name of her ship had a double meaning. Was she so unlike a Siren? Beautiful but deadly.

As she descended the stairs, her chin was held high and her chest puffed with that blatant arrogance she would never lose so long as air moved in her lungs. She knew his men had their unworthy eyes on her body, watching as the rain plastered the white blouse to her tanned skin. Should any of them try anything, though, they'd find their manhood fed to them on one of the gold platters they would steal from her.

Eyes searched the seas, watching as the ripples of blood extended out to the dark horizon. Strands of auburn were plastered to her face, nearly obstructing her line of vision. Oh how she loved the taint of crimson to the aquamarine, though she preferred it when she was named the victor. She barely had time to adjust to the admittance of defeat when he crushed her body into the sturdy wall again. Air expelled from her lungs, though she hardly noticed.

His hand was rough and forceful, fingers clenching her feminine jaw. If he wanted to see fear in her eyes, he would find none. She laughed boisterously in his face, her cackle ringing out into the air. "Is that the best you can do, Morris?" She spat in his face, the saliva mixing with the precipitation from the sky. "There is no map hidden on this ship." She answered truthfully, wicked grin returning to her face.
 
Morris let out a snort, wiping off the trail of saliva with his large hand as the rainwater dripped from his face. She was a true vixen alright, and would enjoy wiping that grin off her face. He took the moment to let his eyes trail down her body, seeing the way he bodice clung to her skin in the rain, the way her shapely legs held her up with pride, and her face. Those lips, those green eyes...oh, how long had it been now? Hardly mattered, he could kill two birds with one stone quite easily tonight.

"Let's get you out of this rain," he said, his grin wicked enough to match her own. His arms circled her waist, lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Though her legs might kick at his chest he didn't relent to her, having taken harder blows in his lifetime. He marched across the deck, his men cheering for him and giving him hearty roars of victory. He swung open the door that led to the cabins, the most likely place for what he searched for.

He walked inside, moving down a cramped hallways and letting out a sigh of relief at being out of that accursed weather. "Stop struggling," he ordered her, giving her a rough shove, "ain't becoming of a lady." Finally he reached a door, marked with various sword etchings and looks sturdier than the rest. He kicked it open, revealing the Captain's quarters or more specifically, Evie's quarters. With a laugh he marched inside, admiring some of her trinkets and navigational equipment laid out on a large table. But his real aim was the fine bed laid out against he wall. Without ceremony he tossed her on top of it, leaving her hands tied behind her back.

He looked around, their only light coming from a few lanterns attached to the walls. He could see were she kept her trophy's, a fine collection of blades belonging to the men who tried to tame her before him. Inspecting one he gave she a sly look. "This be the blade of Commodore Herrington of the Kings fleet, isn't it? Most impressive lass." Putting it back he looked over her once again, thanking God she decided to resist. "Now than," he said as he pulled of her shirt revealing his scarred and muscular chest, still bleeding in several places from her attacks. "What say you of getting to know one another better?"
 
"It'd be wise you kept your eyes on my face." Her accent was clearly English, though the mannerisms in which she spoke still held propriety. Perhaps the appeal of speaking in proper English only added to the fierceness of her character. She didn't need to play the part of a rogue with a gritty accent because the real Bloody Evie was far worse than any image portrayed.

Before she could protest, he had hoisted her upon his shoulder and paraded her like a trophy to his men. She loathed him with her entirety, a title that no one else had earned from her. The thousands of others had been nothing more than men in her way, their deaths getting little more than apathy from her. However, when she took this man's life, she would smile. She couldn't wait to slash him into pieces and feed him piece by piece to the creatures lurking beneath the depths of the vast waters. Instead of kicking him, Eve took advantage of the situation he had created. Her bound hands clasped together to make one fist. Shifting her weight, she pelted the side of his head roughly with her hands. She didn't know why he thought she would take orders from him. If anything, it only caused her to struggle more against him.

When they entered her chambers, she growled in anger. The room wasn't much unlike the way it had been with the previous Captain, thought it was personalized by her own trophies and documents. There was little about it that called out to femininity, save for the luxurious bed with rich silk sheets in a sanguine hue- the color of blood. Eyes looked to the ground, watching as the two left a dripping trail of water on her immaculate floor.

Tossed onto her own bed, she sank into the soft mattress. Eve stayed silent as he admired her belongings, fighting the urge to shiver to the cold. As he revealed his rugged chest to her, all she could see was the blood pouring from the open wounds. Perhaps he would get blood poisoning soon and croak. With the proposition, she laughed in disbelief. "Get out of my quarters!" She commanded, fingers working deftly at the knot of the sash. If she could just loosen it, she could slip one hand out. . .
 
Her arrogance in such situations astounded him! "Did you forget already? This is my ship now. Every part of it is mine..." he drew closer, undressing her with his eyes, "...as well as everything on it." All the hard work and toil it had taken to bring him to this point was about to come to fruition in the form of this womans delicious body. Oh, he would break that pride out of her, have her begging for him free her by the end of the night. Yes, he would ravage her entirely and claim her as his own.

He moved to the bed, sinking into the red silk covered mattress as droplets of water cascaded down his body. "I gave you a chance to make this easy on yourself," he said with a lecherous grin. Oh, Venus herself could not compare to the beauty before him. "Now I will have to force it from you, though I dare say I am pleased with the way this worked out."

His knees pressed down on her legs, keeping them from kicking too much as his hands moved to her chest, feeling her bountiful mounds through her bodice. "What treasures do you hide here, my Bloody Evie?" He truly thought of her as his now, a prize he had won. His fingers trailed up her chest, circling her neck and making a line past the valley of her cleavage. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes. "His fingers worked swiftly, working to untie the laces of her bodice to reveal her naked flesh to his lust-filled eyes.
 
"You are sorely mistaken. Nothing on this ship will ever belong to you so long as I breathe. Mark my words!" Even captured and tied up at his mercy, she was relentless and unwavering. When she freed herself, she was unsure of what she would do first. Vivid images of her hands encircling his neck, slowly strangling him flooded her mind. Perhaps she'd use the sword he'd admired to slash his throat. She'd figure it all out soon enough.

"I'm not sure how you think you can force truth from my lips. I do not know what you seek, but I promise that you will not find it. Go ahead and search, you will find no map." Eyes glared at him, upper body leaning back into the bed as he limited her mobility. When his rough hands groped at her firm mounds beneath the thin, wet fabric, she twisted her shoulders sharply as if to shake his grasp from her torso.

Eve's body shuddered once, attempting to regain control of its normal body temperature. To her, it was a sign of weakness, as if the natural mechanics of what made her human were an ultimate betrayal. While his fingers untied the laces of the restraining garment, her eyes never once shifted from his face. She wanted to bite through the bones of his fingers and tear the appendages from his hands. She would offer no words of protest as she knew they would do no good. Bloody Evie had never once begged in her life, and this man's intentions would not cause her to start.

As the top was peeled away, he'd find a tattoo of a wilting rose above her left breast, the first of many ink stains on her body. Should he somehow slip the garment from her arms, he'd see a gold cuff at the base of her right wrist.
 
Even now she looked up at him with fire in her eyes. Morris knew if she got the smallest chance she would try and kill him in the most brutal ways imaginable. In his twisted mind the thought caused his manhood to harden more so than it ever with simple tavern wenches that strolled for a bit of silver. He felt her shudder beneath him, her body reacting to the cold temperature from the rain. "Ah, is my luscious girl growing cold? Let's remove these wet things."

With not a small amount of force he yanked open her bodice, leaving nothing between her chest and him the thin material of her shirt, soaked and sticking to her like a second skin. He could make out her nipples poking through the fabric, hardened from the cold and not any of his actions. Still he could not resist the temptation. "Are you no better than the whores on land? I expected you to out up more resistance before surrendering yourself to me."

No longer able to hold back he seized her upper garment and in a display of strength easily ripped open the white shirt, baring her breasts to him and giving him full access to her chest. He licked his lips at the sight, running his hand over the beautiful tattoo of the wilting rose. Her breasts were perfect, and her stomach so tempting. She was not the delicate flower of the nobles or mannish sailors daughter. No, she was all woman, with all the curves that came with it but with the strength that came from a life at sea. He leaned down to her chest, his mouth hovering over her left nipple. "You are truly a work of art, my dear." He gently kissed her breast, running his tongue in a circle around the hardened nub. "However, I do require you to confess your treasures location." In a sudden display of barbarity he bit down hard on her nipple, clenching it between his teeth as his hands held her down.
 
Surrendering herself to him? The very thought infuriated her, emerald gaze glaring back into his eyes with hate. Beneath the weight of his knees, she struggled to free her muscled legs, but even Eve Hawkins could not defy the law of physics. Her longer nails continued to pick at the knot, shoulders held still so that he would not see what she was doing. Giving in to him would never happen, but if he wanted her to plead for him to stop, he would go on wanting forever. "You should find I do resist you. As far as your other whores are concerned, you should be able to distinguish between them feeding your ego in the exchange of coins and a woman who is silent merely because she's planning your demise." The words rolled effortlessly off her tongue, her strong-will most prevalent.

When her blouse was torn open, she exhaled sharply. Chest heaved, the irregular rise and fall causing her breasts to push forward, tempting him with their view. They were firm and ample, perfectly proportioned to her petite frame. She watched his eyes drift over her, from her chest to her toned stomach, the tattoo of the sun encircling her navel there. She scowled at his hand brushing her tattoo, not taking kindly to anyone touching the badges of ink dispersed about her entirety.

His lips and tongue moved with skill, as if he had practiced for this very moment. Even through the rough demeanor of Bloody Evie, Eve Hawkins was still a woman. She had desires like any other man, but she was far too livid to have any excitement from the attention he paid to her temple. She would have laughed obnoxiously at his request again, except that his teeth had locked on her sensitive nub. Her hands were almost loose, just a thread away from clobbering him. His mannish hands gripped her tightly, forcing her back onto the bed and spoiling her fun by crushing her arms into the mattress. She gasped, but did not make any noise of pain. Years of a life at sea had hardened her, numbed her tolerance for discomfort. That wasn't to say it didn't hurt; it did, but she would never admit it.
 
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