Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“What the fuck?” Ghost scampers back, smacks on the cabin light above my head, then grimaces when he spots the second rush of vomit fountaining out of my mouth. “Christ, Little Lamb.” He adds to the churns of my stomach when he bands his arm around my waist and hoists me off the bed. “What did you eat to make you sick?” He marches me into the bathroom, switches on the shower faucet, then places me inside the stall. The cracks in the drain are big enough to handle the product expelling from my stomach, but what it misses, Ghost’s enormous feet take care of. “Vera was told to give you the fresh foods.”
“It’s not the food.” I vomit again when the steam returns the ghastly scent to my nostrils.
“Get it all out first, then we will talk.”
Ghost more whacks my back than rubs it soothingly, but it is effective, nonetheless. Within a handful of slaps, my stomach is emptied, and the scent of my recently washed hair replaces the horrid smell of vomit in the tiny shower stall.
My stomach hasn’t been the only gluttonous commodity of late. I’ve taken to washing my hair and shaving every day as well.
My circumstances changed in a blink of an eye, so who is to say it won’t switch back even quicker?
“Stay here. I will have clothes brought in for you.”
Ghost’s drenched boxer shorts and T-shirt leave a puddle of wetness in his wake when he steps out of the shower stall and paces into the main room. The slap of them hitting the fake wooden floors bellows into the bathroom shortly before there’s a knock at the main door.
“Leave them by the door. I will fetch them in a minute,” Ghost barks out, his voice commanding. As quickly as a “yes, sir” creaks through the opening, Ghost recalls the reason I need a change of clothes. “Send someone from housekeeping. We need new sheets.”
This reply is far longer than the female’s first response. She sounds stunned like a greedy stomach couldn’t possibly be the cause of needing fresh sheets at four in the morning.
I jump when Ghost’s shirtless torso suddenly fills the bathroom door. For a man who stands at a little over six foot four, he shouldn’t be so agile. But he is. Very much so.
He smirks at my skittish response for barely a second before his eyes lower to my thin white nightgown clinging to my body. It is drenched through, so it leaves nothing to the imagination.
He’s seen it all before, but you wouldn’t know that from the angry glare burning across his face when his eyes stop at the apex of my thighs. After a quick swallow and a brief lick of his lips, he returns his narrowed eyes to my face. “When did you shave?”
You could believe his question is in response to my glistening legs, but I know that isn’t the case. His eyes didn’t drop lower than my vagina.
“Yesterday,” I answer, aware I have no choice but to be honest. “Should I not have shaved?”
My question ticks his jaw to the point of manic. “I don’t care either way, but he would have preferred you to remain natural.” He enters the bathroom, switches off the faucet, then shoves a pair of sweatpants, a white T-shirt, and plain cotton panties into my chest. “I don’t want you serving today. If you are sick again, you’ll face more rumors than you already do.”
Rumors? What rumors?
He steals my chance to ask my questions out loud by leaving the bathroom as quickly as he entered it.
By the time I’m dressed and dried my drenched hair, the sheets on our bed have been replaced, and Ghost is nowhere to be seen.
What am I meant to do if I don’t work?
I hang in our room for a couple of hours before the silence gets to me. Ghost said he didn’t want me serving, but he said nothing about me being required to stay in my room.
I begin to wonder if I’m really not under lock and key when my exit from my room has me quickly bumping into Alek. He either wanders the halls at all times of the day and night, or he’s trying to make his watch inconspicuous.
“Good morning, Kate. Late start for you today.” For a man who has the grip of a wrench and the stern voice of a drill sergeant, his smile is awfully friendly.
“Katie,” I correct, assuming he misheard me the other day.
He didn’t. “Ghost asked me to call you Kate. He said Katie is too immature, and it will add to the men’s wish to explore how innocent you truly are.” When my face whitens, Alek’s grin enlarges. “Aah… so you truly don’t notice how the stares double depending on how tight you fasten your apron. On the sea, an apron is the equivalent of a corset.”