Hooking Captain Teeth

 

Monster Brides (series of multiauthor standalones)

Monster Romance

Date Published: 07-15-2024

 

 

Captain Teeth

Orders—giving them, writing them, signing for them, and taking them—fill a Captain’s life. I miss the days when I climbed under skirts while on land and climbed the ratlines after we weighed anchor. The black spot on my pirate heart is due to my failure to find my lady love despite scouring the Caribbean for years. I’ve watched me hearties fall in love and drop from the sweet trade like flies, but this voyage to drop off my Quartermaster with his new bride in Mexico may break me…

 Sabrina

Why shouldn’t I partake in the fancies of the human world when I sprout legs once a month? Swilling rum, dancing on tables, singing bawdy songs, and sampling every scallywag who catches my eye is harmless fun. I tell myself my behavior is entertainment…not to forget my soulmate who abandoned me five years ago at Maude’s Tavern. After a night of passion, he flipped a doubloon onto the sheets and sailed away. I can’t believe the scourge of the seven seas mistook his lady love for a common strumpet! My kind mates for life so if I ever see him again, I’ll sink him and his ship.

 Nobody humiliates a Kraken.

 

Excerpt

A flirty remark dies on my tongue as the handsome pirate adjusts himself through the crotch of his leather pants. Nope. Too much. Too uncouth, too vulgar, too smarmy, too much for a part-time human like me. He’s as shameless as me but with twice the firepower. Not gracing him with another second of my attention, I twirl and dance along the table to the opposite end of the tavern. I’ll find a safer man to bed tonight.

I kick and tap to the beat with my skirts swishing above my knees for mediocre sailors, stealing furtive glances at the handsome blond pirate and his table of rowdy friends. I don’t dare approach the pirates of Patricia’s Wish. I do have some sense of self-preservation. The night flies by as shots are taken from my cleavage and poured down my throat by random drunks.

All the while, the pirate watches me from his corner.

The heat in his stare burns away my inhibitions and I find myself performing for him, using the attention from men closer to me as my props. Coins jingle in my pockets and shoes as I earn my night’s lodgings under the pirate’s lustful gaze. It isn’t long before I’m singing louder than the brothel’s girls on stage.

My peg-legged companion from earlier in the night leaves with his head shaking in warning. He can’t buss my cheeks. He’s not my father. My father’s at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean with the other mated Kraken. I thumb my nose at the swinging doors as the sourpus exits the bar.

Time to secure a room from Jamal the Barkeep. Looks like I’ll be sleeping alone tonight, but some nights are slow. I’ve taken two or three men to my room in succession before selecting the one I will sleep beside. Nights like tonight balance the scales. I hope the working girls are luckier and wake up next to stacks of gold.

“Here’s one, two, five gold coins,” I count as I drop doubloons onto the bar top. Maude’s rate is three coins for rooms not occupied by her girls, so the two extra coins will go to Jamal’s savings. I hope he opens the beachside cantina of his dreams someday. “I’d like a room—the one at the far end of the hallway if it’s open.”

“Are you sure? Miss Opal has the room next to that one. Maybe take the first room,” Jamal says, swiping my coins into his hand. He trades them for a large, iron key. Being a ‘screamer’ is Miss Opal’s specialty. I’ll wake up with a banging headache if I’m in the room next to hers.

“Thanks for always looking out for me,” I reply, swiping the key off the bar top.

“Which room is ours?” I don’t need to turn around to know it’s the handsome, blond pirate behind me. My body ignites with the command in his question.

“I’m in room one,” I say, verifying the key is labeled with the number one. He steps toward me with a palm outstretched for the key. “You are bunking in the bilge of some ship with the rest of the sea sludge.”

He takes a predatory step forward. My back hits the bar. I clutch the key to my chest. It vibrates with the pounding of my heart or maybe that’s the shaking of my fingers. Blond hair tickles my nose as he leans over me, one arm resting on the bar to either side of my waist. His scent invades my nose. Blue eyes bore into me with an intensity that curls my toes in my boots.

“Tell me you don’t want me in your bed to pleasure you from head to toe and make your every fantasy come true, and I’ll disappear,” he whispers against my ear.

 

About the Author

Marilyn Barr lives in the wilds of Kentucky with her husband, son, and rescue cats. When engaging in the real world, you can find her with the Kentuckiana Romance Writers, volunteering with her son’s Special Olympics teams, or dancing around her kitchen. She is a sucker (haha) for cheesy horror movies, Italian food, punk music, black cats, bad puns, and all things witchy.

 

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