The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Twenty:.

My name is Elliot Parker.

I am known as the stowaway girl here, only the Captain knows who I really am.

But a Captain is not a captain without a ship. And we are nothing more than a crew littered on the sea in life rafts. His authority could be challenged; my presence will only worsen that. But for now I need him and he needs me and with land in sight, well everything could be changed.

Sat on opposite ends of the raft I can feel him trying to lock my gaze to his. Right now, I don’t need to entrance him to bend to my will. I suspect he is the kind of man who could resist the charm, his essence of leadership is potent, especially on his crew. I don’t intend to convert the crew. Just charm them slightly, just add a touch of loyalty to my cause. People don’t know about the reality of the entrancement, I suspect a travelled man like the Captain does, but his crew probably don’t. I suspect he knows exactly what he is doing with his crew, that is why he wants to lock eyes to me, command my loyalty, when I am encouraging theirs.

The Captains charm won’t work on me, not well at least, but my charm? Well, I exercise it with control. I don’t want blindness I want honesty. But of course a little loyalty doesn’t hurt.

“Stowaway girl.” I look up, the Captain has given a direct command as we reach land. “Stand beside me.”

Does he think I will run? Or is it just that I am a very valuable treasure to trade?

“Neither.” He whispers in my ear; I turn to face him bemused. “You won’t run, and I won’t trade you. I know who and what you are.”


“You think I know a traitor by their actions? Stolen whispered conversations? Little birds in my ear? No. I know I must read them. I have been reading you.”


“I could teach you to do the same, that is why you will not run.”


“You may be valuable, you might be worth my men’s weight in gold for a safe return, or for a swift execution.” His grip on my upper arm tightened so that when his lips brushed my ear I couldn’t pull away if I wanted, to others it certainly would look like I was being threatened but his voice gave away a little secret that I didn’t quite understand. “You are more valuable than that, so long as you are alive, so long as you work with me. I saw you working charm on the lifeboats, sewing the first threads, you wouldn’t get a mutiny to save you but you would get enough conflict to slip away. Something we both know. But you won’t leave me as long as I am useful, and you, well you are very useful.”

His lips brushing on my ear surprised me as he spoke, not for his words, but for the strange tingling sensation, the heat where his skin had met mine. “You are useful, your alignment to power is strong, but it is new, it is fresh.” I become aware of his proximity the grip of his hand no longer digging so deeply into my arm. “You will help me stop the crew from slipping into a mutiny without the ship. You will help us get back on the water. With more men, I am sure. And if you are good and do as I ask, all I ask of you, I will take you where you want to go. With another condition. You are honest with me. I will see and know when you are not.”

My breath is caught in my chest like I am choking on my words, I have to agree to the terms. “Fine”

“You don’t like it”

“No one likes to be held to ransom.”

“If this is ransom, then you are a very lucky girl.” His last words made my cheeks flush and tingle with his breath on my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to steal my nerves, trying to steady my breath. He lingered, toying with me. If there is something he wants to say, he is taking his time in saying it. I feel myself growing more aware, it is his right hand tight around my right arm. I could easily wrench myself free but in this moment I don’t want to, I am on the edge of something, fear. Everything is heightened. Everything is awake inside of me, I feel alive, I feel more aware of every inch of my skin. I feel aware of his left hand wrapped in my hair, tugging slightly firing nerves down my spine, a tingling. Keeping me in place, his lips touching my ear, lips that had brushed my skin with every word.

My throat tightened, ever so slightly as he pulled his lips away by a fraction as he gently pulled my hair leaning my head so the side of my neck was exposed. His lips brushing down my neck to the edge of my collarbone and back. He brought his lips back to my ear, “you are mine.”

“No I’m not. No one owns me.”

“I didn’t say that I own you, I said that you are mine, it means something entirely different.”

“How?” He felt him smile at my question this time he pulled my head so my eyes met his.

“You are mine.” I shook my head no, just a fraction. He winked with the left side, before letting his eyes roam to his right and my eyes followed his to see the crew watching our interaction. “You are mine” he growled.

I felt myself swallow the lump in my throat. “You are mine.” He said louder, much louder than he had spoken yet. His eyes flickered between my lips and my eyes, before he leaned in close, not fast but not slow, until our lips were brushed together. On the edge of a wave crashing the shore full of the tension.

Then I felt that familiar lurch in my stomach and I felt myself being pulled back and his proximity faded, his breath on my skin faded.

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