Peter was out cold, slumped against the mast like a dead prince.Even his cursed feather had gone dim, flickering faintly in his hand.
(Hook's POV)
That left me—Hook, Captain of the Jolly Roger—babysitting a half-naked dark lord and a crew of idiots with more lust than sense.
The sea was black glass, calm enough to make my teeth itch.I knew this kind of calm.It was the kind that waited… before it bit.
The moon spilled silver across the black sea, and every ripple gleamed like a blade. I gripped the railing of the Jolly Roger, eyes sweeping the waters for the next problem—sirens, monsters, or worse.
And then I saw her.
She floated just beyond the ship's shadow, a vision carved by the gods to ruin men.
The moonlight licked every curve of her body, from the long lines of her bare legs to the tight clasp of her cropped top that hugged her chest like a leech's grip. Each breath made her breasts rise and fall, straining against the soaked fabric, and the sea's bioluminescence lit her in shimmering blues and greens, painting her like a living treasure.
Her low-cut harem pants clung and drifted, showing flashes of skin that should've been illegal this far from land.
And her shoulders, exposed under the sweetheart neckline, glimmered wet and perfect.
A trap.
Had to be.
I shook my head, jaw tight.
"Not tonight," I muttered to myself, gripping the helm. "I'm not falling for another cursed snack of the sea."
But my crew…
Oh, the fools.
A collective gasp rolled across the deck as they spotted her.
Crewmate 1:"Cap'n… that's… that's a goddess."
Crewmate 2:"No, that's our salvation. We can't leave her to the water!"
I barked back, "Leave her! She's bait. I've seen this trick a hundred times—floating beauty, drowning doom!"
But their eyes were glued to her rising and falling chest, not my raised hook.
They murmured, shuffled, and finally one brave idiot said what the rest were thinking:
Crewmate 3:"Cap'n, we take her aboard, or we dive in ourselves."
I stared at them, outraged and impressed at the same time.
"Mutiny… over a pair of wet breasts. Glorious."
But I knew I had no choice. The sea eats men, and men eat themselves when lust leads them.
With a heavy curse, I tossed the rope ladder overboard.
"Fine! But when she grows fangs and chews off your heads, I'm not cleaning the deck."
The crew heaved her onto the ship, her wet hair fanning across the wood like dark silk.
Up close, she was worse—or better, depending on how cursed you felt.
Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, droplets sliding over her collarbones and into the deep valley of her top.
Her lips were parted, and every man around her leaned in like she was whispering just for them.
I turned away, disgusted with all of them—and myself, for even looking twice.
Then the boy arrived.
(Peter's POV)
The sound of bickering and heavy breathing woke me from the haze of exhaustion. My body still ached from the sirens' game, and my stomach knotted with hunger—both the normal kind and the kind I didn't want to admit.
I rubbed my eyes and followed the noise to the deck.
The crew was circled around something—or someone.
And then I saw her.
She was lying on the planks like a gift from the moon, chest rising and falling in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Her soaked top clung to her curves, and every breath threatened to undo the little modesty she had left.
The bioluminescent glow from the water still clung to her skin, outlining her hips, the swell of her breasts, and the curve of her thighs peeking from those traitorous harem pants.
I barely heard Hook yelling over the sound of my own pulse.
Hook: "I didn't take her in—they made me! If she's a trap for you, don't blame me. Blame these drooling idiots!"
I stepped forward slowly, the circle of men parting for me.
Up close, she smelled of salt and something sweet, like tropical flowers drowning in the sea.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she coughed softly, her body arching just enough to make every man around her forget air existed.
I knelt, extending a hand.
"Easy… I've got you—"
Then her eyes opened.
And everything stopped.
Pink sparkles danced in her irises, swirling like dust caught in sunlight.
The moment our gazes met, my chest tightened and my thoughts melted into heat and static.
The crew gasped—then sighed—then froze as she snapped her fingers.
A soft pulse of magic rippled through the air, and every man besides me stumbled back, their lust replaced with the fear of Hook's glare and the unnatural weight of the charm breaking.
Only I remained locked in her spell.
Her lips parted, and she spoke in a soft, trembling tone—a whisper soaked in honey.
Mystery Girl: "I… I am too weak to stand… will you carry me?"
The words weren't just a request—they were a caress. Each syllable brushed against my thoughts, uncoiling the last of my caution.
Without thinking, I slid my arms under her and lifted her from the deck.
The moment her body met mine, a strange heat bloomed in my chest and spilled through my veins.
Her skin was soft, slick with seawater, and every shift of her weight pressed curves against my bare torso. Her wet hair trailed down my arm like silken chains, and her scent—salt and something sweet—wrapped around my head.
Her breathing was shallow, each exhale warming my neck, and when her chest brushed against me, my pulse spiked in ways that had nothing to do with danger.
Hook's voice snapped somewhere in the distance,
Hook:"Oh, for the love of sanity! He's holding her! Don't let her touch you—boy, she's working you like a fiddle!"
I barely heard him.
His crew, though pretending to carry on with their work, had their eyes glued to her body, lingering on every curve as if they could claim her—as if they could snatch her away from me.
As if I'd ever let that happen.
She was mine now, warm and soft in my arms, With every breath she took, her soft, round breasts brushed against my bare chest, and her slick, wet skin sent shivers through me.
And she was in love with my touch—I could feel it in the subtle smirk curling her lips, in the way her fingers traced light patterns on my shoulder.
The thought ignited something deep in my chest, a heady mix of pride and hunger.
She wants me. Only me.
Thinking of it, my feet moved on their own, carrying her toward the mast where the moonlight bathed her in silver.
Her fingers curled lightly at my shoulder, tracing small, almost innocent circles.
Her lips curved in a knowing smile.
She didn't need words.
I was already hers.