There was a snake in the Paradise.
There. He'd admitted it, and felt even more rotten, vile and vindictive than he had ever before.
At first, it had smoothed Jack's ego something glorious, the eyes following after the pair walking down the street, the winks and knowing looks the sailors had given, but as light was shed brighter on the matter, it began to bother him.
Will was his, no question about it. End of discussion. The possessive soul which had been once sold for a ship was now boiling with unfounded jealousy
at least that's what he kept telling himself. The alternative was too horrifying to even flitter through his mind.
Short of branding Will like cattle, Jack pondered, from different perspectives, including one through the bottom of a bottle, the possibilities.
A tattoo wouldn't do. Too lasting, too intimate, and he did see the error of his train of thought.
Then it hit him, unawares, in a tavern at the port in Libreville where his eye caught a glimmering