He gave her nothing. “We’ll see.”
“Listen to me, slaver.” She crept nearer, overcoming his legs so they might negotiate eye-to-eye. Woman-to-man. “You’ll be disappointed.”
The corner of his lips lifted. “I doubt it.”
Had he just winked at her?
Asshole.
Confrontation was no different than an elite university’s oral exam. He was no different than any of the men who might have had her in their clutches for a short time. No different than dirt. A prick deserving of the clinical Eugenia who aced every test and never said die. “This is a ship with three-hundred or so men and less than two dozen women. Where, from what I understand, thirty men a night dump their saliva-laden food and drink on two of the aforementioned women. I’m amazed there hasn’t been some outbreak that killed off half your slaves. And, as condoms are no longer produced and those available would have expired last April, I’d rather not be exposed to gonorrhea, which asymptomatic men spread despite the supposed physical examination all these rapist undergo—”
It was so fast his backhand landed on her cheek before she’d seen him go from lazy, lounging cowboy to typical violent male. The taste of blood in her mouth, the throb and heat that came each time a man had put his hands on her, led Eugenia to turn her head right back toward the captain. Again, they were eye-to-eye.
Life, tickets, baking sheets, and shared scraps for sex. It wasn’t worth it. He needed to know she knew that.
She needed to know how far he’d go.
Limits set parameters for escape. Violence defined a man.
Push hard. Mouth off. Let them know she might be scared, but what did it matter? The whole fucking world was scary.
And this ship, this society he’d designed? No.
Make the big, bad pirate slaver do what the men at her table wouldn’t do in the name of rules and trades. Make it public and grotesque in this fake civility. Make a statement. “Captain, if you’re going to hit me, put some effort into it. That was barely a swat.”
And he obliged, so predictable she hardly blinked an eye when her back hit the deck.
Grip on her throat, his free hand snaking up that sorry excuse for a skirt, he hissed, “You think you’ve got something more precious—”
But his own efforts, his own violence, stopped him dead in his tracks.
She’d known rape might take place before the final stomping, but she had not imagined the asshole would push aside her panties and delve in.
It never went down that way. Ringleaders didn’t just force the goods when a profit could be made; they lathered up the crowd. Made a display to get their followers panting in submission.
Yet the captain had, in less than a heartbeat, shove three of his fingers as deep as they might go.
The behavior didn’t match the boots.
Rough grip cutting off proper blood supply to her brain, Eugenia still grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut from the burn.
There would be blood on his hand. And by the scandalized look on his face, he had felt the membrane ringing her vaginal opening give under careless penetration. What she had spent a lifetime guarding, he could have traded for a whole herd of cattle. Gone, because she’d goaded him.
And, yes, she grasped that there was no proof of virginity, that all bodies were different, but after enough pap smears, Eugenia knew hers was a bit more. That band of skin unstretched and there.
Shocked enough to loosen his grip, Eugenia found the air to snarl right in the captain’s face, “Get your fingers out of my vaginal canal.”
Those fingers fluttered in place of retracting. “It isn’t possible…”
Still in her, the sting only growing when he continued to wiggle them as if to make sure it was blood squelching over his touch, Eugenia fought to keep her legs as they were. To show no fear and to remember that she could cry over this later where no one might see. But not now. “Perhaps you find the concept outdated. But believe it or not, I was waiting for a worthy man to spend my life with. What you just stole was my gift to give, not yours to take. You also just made me far less valuable to trade off this ship. Well done.”
It was only then she realized how intimate this violence appeared to the crowd. How he hovered over her, inside her still… smiling even as they gathered to watch. “You’re a virgin.”
The label was a bit sticky, though she had been waiting until marriage to enjoy penetration. “Was. You just tore my hymen, which I will never forgive you for.”
“No cock was in you. You’re still a virgin.”
Heart racing, unwilling to back down, she spat, “Don’t debate physiology with me, slaver. Finish what you started. Show me why you polish those boots every day. Show them all just what you really are. A monster who exploits women and sexually assaults strangers.”
His hand left her neck, stroking a stray curl off her sweaty forehead. “Oh, they know exactly what I am. Just as we all know why I won’t damage a valuable, beautiful, red-haired virgin. The men wouldn’t stand for it.”
“This joke of civility you stage here each night? Utter bullshit.” Rolling her body under his weight as if she stood a chance to displace him, Eugenia added, “I. Will. Not. Whore. For. Fucking. Tickets.”
Fingers still burrowed, her blood making its slow way down her crack, he put his lips to her hair. Breathed her in. “Give head for tickets if you don’t want to be fucked. You can save your pussy for your nonexistent Prince Charming.”
“What an elegant solution!” Though he was still in her and it still hurt, she made sure the whole deck heard her crystal-clear. “Try putting a dick near my mouth and I’ll bite it off. Let me off this boat now and save yourself a pile of trouble. I’ll upset your system. I’ll twist your rules. I’ll take the beatings. Hear me when I say this. I’ve faced down far worse than any of you.”
“Well then, siren.” Finally, the captain pulled his fingers out of her body, pinioning weight against his prize while he inspected the blood on those digits for himself. Red, fresh, and more copious than she’d expected, his three fingers shined crimson in the setting sun.
And she stung where the membrane had been torn, hating to think of what dirt might have been under his nails when he thought to subdue her with something so…
When he took something so…
She wouldn’t call it precious. Because it wasn’t anymore.
Because this world’s elders fucked it up for everyone. Long gone were wedding nights and tender men. They had Johns, who she’d saved and who’d tried to trade her person for fucking water.
“The shock will wear off. Look at me.”
“What?” That’s right. She was on a ship, dressed like a tramp so she might earn tickets to freedom for sexual favors.
And the man who had just jammed his fingers with true violence inside her was adjusting the gusset of her lacy panties, smearing her thigh with virgin blood.
“Get off of me.” Her voice shook, and she hated herself for it.
“I think you need a drink. Also, just so we’re clear, you’ve added one-hundred thousand tickets to your price.”
Oh, she was going to kill him. Which didn’t need to be said. It was right there in her glare. “I will find a way to take something from you of equal value. Then I will burn your goddamn ship to the bottom of this rancid lake.”