Blurb:

Kale Montez is a pirate and a thief, one of the best in the business. He also has an obsession with religious relics--which tends to get him into trouble, since those are notoriously difficult to steal. When Kale goes after a priceless gem said to grant passage into the Between, the inverted realm belonging to the God of Death, he bites off more than he can chew. After all, only fools try to steal from the King of Thieves... right?

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Pic is Donny Lewis, who is a great real life estimation of what Kale looks like xD

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Avit'a 761 IVE

Thieves' City, Lentura

The night was anything but quiet.

With a full moon overhead and clear, pleasant weather, everyone and their dog was out carousing despite it being well past midnight. He could hear them, even though they were some distance away; their bawdy music and their raucous laughter and their drunken shouts--filled with language that would've made his cousins blush.

It was his kind of party.

His kind of night.

His kind of people.

But he had not been invited.

In fact, he'd been the opposite of invited: he'd been told not to come. Well, told wasn't the right word. He'd been ordered... no, commanded?

What did you call it when someone tied you up and threw you in a cage and spat on you before going off to enjoy themselves without you?

Kale Montez smirked to himself, a more amused by the situation than anything else. Well, it would be more amusing if he had some rum, he mused.

And if there wasn't a gaping big hole in his side. That would be a plus.

Those two things aside, Kale was rather enjoying himself. It was a beautiful night and his cage was open to the elements, allowing him to feel the full effects of the early fall breezes and the crisp air. It wasn't often that he spent time in a forest in the first place, and this forest was especially nice. Perfect for moonlight walks and revelry.

If you ignored the tales that said monsters lurked in the shadows... Kale grinned to himself, half hoping one of those beasties would appear. It would give him an excuse to escape from this cage. Not that he needed an excuse.

He could escape any time he wanted--that was the crux of it though. He had to want to.

And he didn't want to. Not until he'd gotten his hands on what he came for--a task that was proving to be just a bit more difficult than he'd anticipated. It wasn't that easy, stealing from thieves. They knew how to protect their goods.

Kale shifted positions, flexing his muscles against the drag of the heavy ropes that kept his hands behind his back and his ankles pressed together. The cage was small and Kale was large, and it was very uncomfortable, being locked up like this. Kale figured it was what he deserved though, for being so arrogant.

If it wasn't easy to steal from thieves, he didn't know why he'd expected to just waltz away from this city with no injuries. Especially given that the object he wanted was in the possession of the so-called King of Thieves... Kale dropped his head, resting his chin on his chest to stretch the muscles is his neck and shoulders.

Under the sounds of the music and the feasting, Kale's sharp ears picked up another sound, one that was moving closer and closer to his location in the center square. Footsteps.

Light ones, female for sure. Kale grinned to himself, a quick, rakish expression that shouldn't have been possible for someone in his position.

Kale was in a nice place--if not in nice accommodations--on a nice night, involved in something that he quite enjoyed: danger. And now, his second favorite thing in the world was approaching: a woman. This night just got better and better.

**__**

Helene had drawn the short straw.

A straw so short, that she was sure Magise had tricked her into drawing it, because there was no way she'd done that by accident.

The tray in her hands was steady, though, that was something at least. She'd have died if the fear curdling in her gut had made her clumsy. You couldn't show fear to the bad types, that's what her brother always said. If you were afraid, they'd sense it, like beasts. And then they'd pounce.

Helene took quick, careful breaths, moving as quietly as possible so as not to draw attention to herself as she entered the square.

All the revelers were in the Clearing, close enough for her to hear but not close enough for them to reach her in time if something bad happened. She would just give him the food and go.

Give and go. Simple as that.

She didn't have to talk to him or even smile. Just put the food down, and leave.

Helene was finding it harder and harder to breathe as she approached the cage in the center of the square. It was rarely occupied, that cage.

The stocks around it were almost always full--though not tonight, trust her luck. But the cage was reserved for special prisoners--the really dangerous ones.

Helene couldn't understand why the King would put him in it though, not when everyone knew that the King wanted to recruit him. Him being the beast in the cage.

The one they'd brought into the city early that morning, saying he'd caught one of their own and demanded to meet with the King. The meeting, apparently, had not gone well.

Helene stopped a few feet from the cage, caught in a sudden storm of fear. He was hunched over in the small space, his arms bound behind him unnaturally. He was such a... big man. All muscle and power, just locked up as easy as that.

Helene didn't think it could be that easy. And she really didn't want to open the door to that cage. Certainly, she knew the man had to eat, but still... he was Curse. The Curse.

The scourge of the seas, the most deadly pirate captain out there, or so they said. If he really was a pirate, Helene couldn't figure what he was doing so far from the ocean. She'd never seen it, the ocean. But she'd heard stories.

They said the ocean was untamable, beautiful and wild and dangerous. A bit like the Dark Forest, really, but worse. They said the men who sailed it were rough, hardy men. Men who didn't care for anything but the horizon. And pirates, pirates were the worst of them.

Helene had a friend whose father had been a merchant. They used to sail a bit, and Yuzina had always told Helene that pirates were the most feared bandits out there. Normal folk thought the land-thieves were scary. They thought it was frightening when highwaymen held up their carriages and broke into their homes.

But pirates were worse. Pirates had a law of their own, a law as harsh and violent as the sea itself. And out there on the water, you didn't have a way out. You couldn't run for your life. You had nothing to bargain with.

It was just you and the ship and the waves and the monsters, and if you even blinked wrong, you were dead. That's what happened to Yuzina's father.

He didn't bow deep enough to the blackguard who gutted him.

Helene's fingers tightened around the edges of the tray, and she kept thinking over and over again, I do not want to open that cage, why did I have to be in the kitchens tonight, why did I have to draw that straw, I do not want to open it I don't want to--

"Ye gonna stand there all night?"

The voice was deep, powerful, masculine, resonant, beautiful, with a strange, almost barbaric accent that was frightful in and of itself. It sent shivers down Helene's spine, shivers of terror she was sure. A man with such a voice... surely he could not be contained by mere rope. Helene squeaked, darted around to the front of the cage. Stared at the lock as if was a snake that was about to bite her.

"Do I scare ye, lass?"

The voice came again, and Helene would've sworn its tone was amused. He was amused by her. How horrifying.

How embarrassing.

She looked up, just for a second, just to see if it could really be him, speaking to her.

He was leaning back casually, as if the cramped conditions and his bound limbs didn't bother him at all. He had his head tipped back, leaning against the bars, and the moonlight shone on his face--and oh, his face.

He was... beautiful.

Rugged, with shaggy hair black as midnight and two-day-old stubble. Beautiful, with slightly angular, defined features and eyes as blue as cobalt, deeper and more captivating than anything Helene had ever seen. Those eyes pulled her in, caught her gaze and her attention and everything... everything fled. All thought, all reason, disappeared from her mind.

He was... Helene's heart was pounding, and her breaths were coming fast, and her hands were shaking--but it was no longer from fear.

He smiled--oh fires that smile. Quick, michevious, dangerous. That smile--just a spreading of his full lips across his straight, white teeth--promised things, wonderful and frightening and beautiful things..

"That a yes, then?" His lips moved, and dark, flowing, sensational sounds came out and brushed against her skin, raising goosebumps on her flesh as heat raced to her cheeks.

She shook her head--halfway between a yes and a no.

He laughed--oh graces his laugh! Deep and full and wild though it was just a chuckle, it sent lightning through her bones. "Ye shed be afraid, lass. Right dangerous, I am."

Helene could only nod, agreeing.

"Is that' fer me, then?" He nodded his head toward the tray in her hands, and Helene came back to herself--mostly--with a snap.

She took in a deep breath, nodded briskly, and shifted the tray so it rested against her hip, freeing up one hand. Her fingers shook as she reached for the key in her pocket, and Curse smiled again. "Ye don'a 'ave t' open it, lass."

She blinked. "Aren't you hungry?"

He chuckled again, and Helene found herself on the brink of losing control a second time. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

"Not fer food, I imagine."

Helene frowned, unsure of what other things he might be hungry for. "What else is there, sir?" Now why had she called him sir? He was a blasted pirate, a murderer and criminal far worse than any of the men in Thieves' City.

But he smiled again, and her heart raced, and the way his eyes traced her body sent fire through her bones and blood. She swallowed, thinking that he was looking at her as if she were a choice piece of meat and he was a man at market.

"Y-you should eat your supper, sir." She forced words from her lips, words that shook themselves into the air. She berated herself mentally for sounding like a fool. Her fingers grasped the key in her pocket and she brought it out, lifted it toward the lock.

"Feed it t' me then."

She froze, went utterly still. Her cheeks were hot as fire peppers, she was sure, though the rest of her was cold and rather dizzy.

As if her body couldn't handle what he was doing to her and had shut itself off. Helene swallowed, bravely raised her eyes to his.

"That wouldn't be proper, sir."

Curse grinned, a full on grin full of darkness and danger and wildness, full of wonderful beautiful terrible things. "Tha's t' point then, init lass." It wasn't a question.

Helene felt her knees going weak. "I-I couldn't..."

He leaned close, closer than he should've been able to lean in the tiny space and all tied up as he was. He looked at her, his fathomless eyes peering into her soul. There were flecks of silver in those eyes, she realized. Like shards of moonlight that he'd captured and stored there just to entrance her.

He opened his mouth, and her eyes were drawn there--to the smooth, full curve of his lips, to the smattering of dark stubble on his chin and cheeks, to his gleaming white teeth. She swallowed, wondered why she couldn't look away.

This was wrong. This was dangerous.

She should leave the food and go.

Give and go.

But she stayed.

**__**

Kale was having fun.

More fun than he should've been having when there was treasure to be appropriated, but all the same... the girl was pretty, young, and just brave enough to be foolish, just innocent enough to be entranced by him.

Just the way he liked them.

When she opened the cage, he didn't move. He didn't even blink--he just stayed where he was, leaning toward her, mouth open as he waited for her to give him what he wanted. Because he knew, he knew that she would give him what he wanted.

They always gave him what he wanted.

She held the tray out to him, and the tin plate on it shook along with her hands. Adorable, he thought. She was adorable.

He smiled, wryly. "I'm a bit tied up, love." He said, carefully, quietly, letting the words fall softly into the air. She blushed even harder, swallowed once, twice.

His eyes traced the smooth curve of her neck, followed it down to the neckline of her dress and lower, then up again to her bow-shaped lips and bright brown eyes. He could see her pulse beating at the base of her neck, knew that if he listened carefully he could probably hear it.

"I-I... I couldn't..." She said again, her voice shaking.

Kale leaned closer, so that he was leaning just a little bit out of the cage, with his face only a foot or so from hers. "'course ye can, love. Easy." He teased her with the words, knowing she was close to giving in.

They always gave in.

One moment passed, then two.

Then, she swallowed again, took a deep breath though her eyes never left his face. She picked up something from the tray, and he didn't dare look at it for fear he'd break the spell he held over her.

She lifted it, as if to feed it to him as he'd requested.

And then, in one swift movement, she dumped the cup of water over his head.

Kale blinked, felt the cool substance run through his hair, down his neck, across his face, into his eyes and over his nose. She froze, then stumbled back a step, surprise in her eyes. "S-sorry..." She said, as if unsure why she was apologizing.

Kale grinned, slowly, devilishly. "Oh, ye'll be sorry. Ye're goin' t' pay fer tha', lass."

In a second, in the moment after he spoke, he moved. The ropes around his wrists and ankles tore like paper, nothing more than nuisances--not even that--in the face of his strength. He was through the bars, out of the cage, in front of her, all around her, in the space of a single breath.

He put his face very close to hers, not touching her, not yet, grinned at the fear and surprise in her eyes. "Ye should'na 'ave done tha', love."

With those words, he kissed her, inhaling her soft gasp of surprise as he melded his mouth with hers. She was soft, very soft and warm and her mouth was wet and inviting. Kale put his hands around her waist, spanned her ribcage with his hands--she was almost small enough around for his hands to touch on either side--pulled her closer against him.

She made a soft sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, and Kale dipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, deepening the kiss.

She was pliant in his arms, warm and soft and yielding against him. After a moment, her tongue responded to his, and they tangled together in an ancient, primal dance. Pleased at her reaction, Kale pulled her even closer, wrapping her up in his arms. He dwarfed her, for she was small and he was not.

He liked the way she felt, like a little bird against him, her heart fluttering so fast that he could feel it. Her hands reached up and he lifted her in his arms effortlessly as she wrapped her hands around his neck, and then he was carrying her, away from the sounds of the revelers and from the city and the reason he'd come in the first place.

There were more interesting things to do than search for treasure. That could wait until morning.

**__**

She led him through the streets carefully, fervently, not wanting anyone to see them. They wouldn't be safe until they reached her flat, until she'd locked the doors and closed all the curtains. He followed steadily, quick and light on his feet despite his injuries.

She paused now and then, peering at the slowly lightening world cautiously. Dawn was arriving and there was no telling when everyone would start to file home.

She'd wanted to bring him hours before, the moment she'd seen the awful wound in his side. But he'd cared more about tending to her than to his own health. She blushed at the thought of how they'd spent those hours on the forest floor, risked a glance over her shoulder at the pirate--for she couldn't think of him as just a man, no, because no simple man could ever be a lover like him. He was a demon, a monster, a devil in the night. A pirate.

He grinned at her as if he knew what she was remembering--or perhaps he was remembering it too. She turned away quickly, trying to hide her answering grin.

And the blush that never seemed to go away.

She was glad when they finally reached her flat. It meant that she could settle him away in the kitchen while she rushed around, closing the shutters and locking them. It gave her a moment to breathe, a moment to think without his presence crowding her mind.

She knew that what they'd done was wrong.

And she didn't care.

She wondered though, what would happen now? The King wanted to recruit him, so there was a possibility... no.

Helene was young, but she wasn't a fool. She'd grown up in a city of thieves and bandits. She wasn't dumb enough to think that he would stay.

But would she ever see him again?

He was a pirate.

He belonged to the sea. Helene closed the last shutter, felt sadness rise inside her. She would never see him again after this night.

She nodded, once, to herself in the darkness. She'd just have to make this night count.

She marched back into the kitchen to see that he'd found her brother's stash of ale, had removed his shirt, and was pouring the alcohol into the gash that stretched from his right hip halfway to the bottom of the left side of his ribcage. He winced, hissing an awful curse word through his teeth.

She didn't begrudge him it, though. She could image just how painful that must have been.

Silently, she gathered bandages from the cupboard--in this city, injuries were common, and only a fool was unprepared. She stood beside him and took the bottle away. "Let me."

He looked at her, amusement glittering in his cobalt eyes. She frowned at him. "You probably need stitches."

"Fix me up, then." He said, calmly, as if this sort of thing happened all the time.

It probably did, she thought ruefully, and got to work dressing the wound.

She made careful, neat stitches--only seven, not so bad. Obviously the King had wanted him alive. Then she poured more ale on it, at which he hissed more curses that burned her ears, and wrapped it in the linen bandages.

It was bloody, tedious work, and took over an hour to complete. Outside the shutters, the sun had fully risen and she could hear the sounds of revelers staggering back to their homes.

Curse looked at her, so close to her, where she knelt by his side as he sat at a chair in her kitchen. This huge, powerful man with muscles like a god and shoulders that went on forever--she couldn't believe it, really, the fact that he was sitting in her kitchen as calmly as if it were nothing at all.

She looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and he smiled. "Thank ye, love."

And then he kissed her, sweetly, as if that was his way of really saying thank you. Helene thought that perhaps kissing was just his way of doing everything, and she didn't mind.

Not even a little bit.