Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Chapter 27: Do What You Must

Keaton

Robbie rolled the cigarette between his fingers in the shelter of his coat, tucking it behind his ear as we watched the rusted fishing boat approach. I gave Robbie a look, tilting my head toward the vessel.

“Looks like only a fishin’ boat, Cap.”

“Aye, but in such shallow waters, and in this storm?” I turned my head to look back at the shore of the small cove that was currently our refuge from the raging open waters. Rain was pounding the decks, bouncing off the wood panels and rolling off the sails above our heads. The thick trees hanging over the sandy cliff face were inundated with rain, their thick leaves hanging toward the murky green water.

“She’s headed right for us, Cap.”

I sighed, smacking my lips and pushing away from the railing, giving the approaching ship one last look before clapping him on the shoulder. “Guess we’ll see what her crew wants then, shall we?”

I descended the stairs to the lower deck, nodding at my crew as I passed them. We were anchored, the sails drawn in and the crew at leisure, at least for the moment. We would not be docking in Valoria tonight, not with twelve-foot swells preventing us from crossing the channel.

Young Pete stood at the lower railing, watching the ship with a pair of binoculars as it rocked in the waves, “They’re dropping a rowboat!” His voice was edged with excitement as he leaned over the railing.

“You’ll fall in,” I said, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him off the railing. “That’s a right way to die, lad.”

“I was just-” He paused, forgetting himself. “Yes, Captain.”

I patted him on the chest and turned toward the railing, watching as three men began to battle the waves in the small skiff, their oars beating helplessly against the unforgiving sea.

“No shifting on the boat, remember?” I turned to Young Pete, the newest member of our crew. He nodded, his head bobbing up and down as he did so. He was just a pup, really, freshly twenty-one and full of the angst and adrenaline all young men possessed when they finally came into their powers. I never took pollywogs so young, but Pete had nearly begged on his knees for the opportunity.

Looking for his mate, most likely. What better way to find a mate than by mopping floors on a smuggling ship for a few months?

I turned to Robbie, my second in command. He was leaning on the railing, watching the three men struggling to close in on the Persephone.

“Should we go out and help em’,you think?”

“No,” I said dryly, wiping rainwater from my brow. “We’ll only lower the ladder for them when they get close.”

the hell did these three

them nearly an hour to reach us, all of them red-faced and steaming with heat when they finally

older man stepped forward, breathing heavily as he reached into the pocket of his coat. He was an “Old Salt,” someone who had been working on ships for the majority of his life. He walked like it, talked like it, and had the signature deep tan of someone who spent their days working in the salty, harsh reflection

a long knife from his belt, holding it out in front of him. The two younger men who had accompanied the old man on the trek shifted uncomfortably, wariness

the old man said as he pulled a damp parcel out of his coat, holding it up in surrender. “Someone paid a pretty penny

standing in a semicircle

man nodded to his companions to heed my orders and they reluctantly followed the crew through the wide doors leading to the lower levels of the ship. I motioned for the old man to follow me to my

got here,” the man said, looking up to admire the murals painted on the ceiling of my spacious lodgings. His eyes danced over the gold painted trim and ceiling-high

pirate would I

shaking his head. “I’ve heard things about this ship. I assumed it was all an exaggeration. A real pirate ship on the

Do What You

are. One of the port master’s

you’d make port. Paid a steep price to have one of our ships come out in the storm to find you. I thought you’d be waiting

to open the soggy parcel. There was a paper napkin inside, crumpled and the ink smeared but still legible

but four

it in my pocket. It was from Troy. He was asking for us to wait in Valoria for him. He had written the first part

the bottom of the napkin, was written in panic, the pen he

plan to invade. Don’t get involved, cut your engines and stay hidden. Stay in the

the galley. You

before the dock is swarmed with the delayed boats. I’ II let em’ eat then

their leave. Troy never acted out of panic, never. He was as level-headed as they come. Something was about to happen though; I could feel it coming through

gems, picking a few coins out of the purse as I stood, dropping

shielding my face from the rain with

was still standing near the railing, watching the fishing vessel rock in the waves roughly a half

the door behind us, squeezing the water from my hair as I took a seat behind my desk once

I said quickly, reaching for and unrolling a large map

the desk,

are moving

his brow arched as

here,” I pointed, running my finger along the river’s winding form, “meets up with the Great River