Wicked Seas

By C. Tyler

Trust amongst pirates was a delicate, tenuous thing.

Aadhya had dedicated her life to the sea, a pirate queen in her own right. When Charles returns, Addy must do her best to keep from being swept up by his seductive aura until he proves himself worthy of her affections again.

Aadhya and Charles had always been passionate and volatile, the perfect duo that thrived on the chaos they left in their wake, but after Charles betrayed her, he must work hard to regain her trust.

Will she be able to forgive him so they can share in hidden treasure and revenge, or will Charles stick to his selfish ways?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight
• Release date: Feb 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9780369505644

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Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2022 C. Tyler

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0564-4

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Audrey Bobak

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To all those who still stick by me and my weirdness.

WICKED SEAS

Romance on the Go ®

C. Tyler

Copyright © 2022

Chapter One

Caribbean Sea

1710

Fire licked the wood, spreading over the railing and inching closer to the barrels of lamp oil that had been spilled across the deck. Black smoke billowed into the air, alerting any within a hundred miles that a battle had been lost.

The crew of the burning ship had been brought aboard another, gathered in the center of the deck. They were beaten, battered, and bruised, and forced to watch as their ship, their home, sank into the sea.

A hand pressed against the center of his back, shoving Charles forward. He glanced over his shoulder, glaring at the Crimson Rogue’s bo’sun.

Move, the angry Haitian said, his deep voice punctuated with a thick French accent.

Charles did as commanded, walking toward the captain’s quarters. He didn’t know what to expect, his mind racing with plans. He noted escapes, thought of platitudes, did his best to recall the things he’d learned from natives in the ways of combat and what he’d learned growing up on the streets in England. He made sure to have a plethora of contingencies for whatever awaited him through that door.

Locks unlatched and the door gave way. He pushed it open, stepping inside.

The sun’s heat left him the moment he passed the threshold. A strange coldness washed over him, chilling him to his bones.

The captain’s quarter was dim, the windows that overlooked the stern of the ship covered to keep the light out. Lanterns hung from the beams overhead, casting the space in a warm glow. To the right was a bed large enough for three with rich, blood-red bedding and multiple pillows. To the left was a wide desk a small family could have used for a dinner table. The surface was covered in papers, maps, a mug, and numerous other utensils. Behind it was the captain of the Crimson Rogue.

She peered at him through her lashes, expression stern, though her features no less attractive for it. Born to an English father and an Indian mother, the sort of beauty she possessed bordered on the dangerous, as though she could offer a man the best night of his life before he woke up with a dagger in his chest.

Life had been hard, however. A scar stretched down the left side of her face, from her hairline to her jaw, cutting through her brow and bisecting it. Her once green eye had turned milky as a result. It had been long-healed, but angry when delivered.

Tendrils and braids of dark hair hung around a previously angelic face. Trinkets and bobbles had been sewn into it, things meant for good luck or pieces from her travels. Charles didn’t take the same care with his tresses, instead braiding them away from his face and nothing more.

She planted her hands against the surface of the desk, pushing herself to her feet. Her gaze drifted to the bo’sun. A jut of the chin was his silent dismissal. He walked away, locking the door behind him.

Charles set his sharpened gaze on her and remained unflinching though able to take in the gold jewelry that hung in her ears and the ring through the center of her nose.

Charles Vane, she said, stepping toward him.

Aadhya Cromwell.

She glared at him. You’ve a lot of nerve flagging down my ship for help.

We were on fire, he said, his voice raspy and dark. The fuck was I s’posed to do?

She shook her head, tilting it back to keep his gaze. Charles stood straight, staring down his nose at her to help illustrate their height difference.

He enjoyed her choice of outfit. A torn, tattered, and layered skirt consisting of garment remnants she’d stolen from the rich women she’d robbed and a bodice tied tight to exaggerate her curves. It represented the woman herself, a chaotic force of nature. The sight of it stirred dark little thoughts inside him that hadn’t been given life for a long time.

Who’d you steal from this time? she asked, drawing him back into the moment.

He scoffed and shook his head. "Fuck makes