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It didn’t matter. It was better the devil I knew. As much as I hated the idea of being caged up with Aerik, especially for a couple of months, I at least knew how he operated. I didn’t know this pirate at all. So far, he’s proved to be wholly unpredictable and I don’t buy this chivalrous act for a second, not when he’s the same man who slaughtered my whole crew and help without a second thought.

I start backing up now, heading toward the door. If I can get there in time, I can run to the top deck and throw myself overboard. He’s right in that the ship is sailing far faster than seems possible, but even so it’s worth the risk. If I survive the fall, I’ll swim to shore.

“I know you want to return to your royal life as quickly as possible…” he says.

I let out an acidic laugh. “Is that what you think? Perhaps I’d rather disappear into the jungles, never to be seen again. It would be better than staying here with the likes of you, and better than anything my role might bring me.”

Another brow raise. “I see. Well, in the event that your wishes aren’t attainable, my offer is still on the table.”

I jerk my head in the direction of the cage but don’t dare take my eyes off him. “You mean to keep me in that? If you really want to separate me from Aerik, then put me down in the hold with the others. At least let me be with Daphne.”

He gives his head a sharp shake, his eyes shining. “Oh, I’m afraid you wouldn’t like that, luv,” he says huskily.

I want to ask why but I don’t dare. I’m afraid that if I show any more concern over my lady-in-waiting, he might purposefully hurt her. Instead, I back up further, almost to the door now.

“I suppose this is goodbye then, Princess,” he says, his stormy sea eyes mocking me with faux sadness.

I feel for the handle, still keeping the sword pointed at him, readying myself to throw the door open and hoping I don’t trip on my dress when I make a run for it.

“Meow.”

I glance down to see a tabby cat padding toward my legs, tail raised and waving, not a care in the world.

Before I can even register my surprise, I see the captain leaping over the table. He moves soundlessly, not even rattling a chair, and so fast that if I blinked I would have missed him moving at all.

He comes at me with the power of twenty horses, pressing me back against the door, his hand enclosed over the blade of the cutlass, stopping me from driving it into his chest. He has no weapon drawn, he’s just using his brute strength to keep me in my place.

His face comes close and I’m nearly swallowed up by his eyes that seem to shift between gray and blue. “Let’s not fight, shall we?” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy, and for some reason I feel a shiver run down my back. The intensity of his gaze drops to my lips and I feel it burn there. “Even though I rather like it.”

He pushes his hips against mine and I can feel how much he likes it. My first instinct is to be repulsed by his apparently large lust for me, but I’m not. Instead, I’m distracted by a dripping sound, and when I glance down I see blood running down the sharp edge of the cutlass and dripping onto the floor. The orange cat that surprised me comes over and starts lapping up the blood from a small puddle that has formed.

It’s the captain that’s bleeding, not me, and yet he doesn’t let go of the blade.

I take in a shaking breath, trying to swallow. I’m afraid to look up at his eyes, as if I’ll drown to death in them.

“You can drop the sword now, luv,” he says softly. “It won’t do you any good. I’m not going to let you get away, no matter how much you beg. And believe me, I wouldloveto hear you beg.”

My hand starts to shake. I’m afraid, yes, but more than that, I’m angry. I hate how helpless I feel. If I was still a Syren, I would be tearing this man apart with my bare hands, my claws ripping out his insides and I would eat them and make him watch as he slowly lay dying.

But now I am just a woman. Powerless and weak and everything this human society has made me become. I’m everything I hate.

He tilts his head and frowns, studying me. “Don’t waste your tears on me, Princess,” he says, and that’s when I realize I’m crying silently, my cheeks wet. “Let’s get you back to where you belong.”

With one smooth and sudden movement he rips the blade back and throws it across the room, causing the cat to bolt with a yelp, its hairs raised as it runs for a corner.

Then the captain grabs me by the bicep, the blood from his hand smearing on my gown, and opens the door, pulling me along and down to the level below.

In moments I am back in the room that holds the cell and before I know it, the cage door is unlocked and I’m shoved back inside with Aerik.

“What happened?” my husband asks me.

“She tried to escape,” the captain says, showing his bloodied hand. “I was starting to feel sorry for her for a moment, if you can believe that. You’ve got your work cut out for you, matey.”

“It’s Prince Aerik of the Danish Realm to you!” he yells at him, and he’s never sounded so pitiful before. What in damnation did I ever see in this sorry excuse for a man?

“Actually, to me, you’re a half-masted arse with a boot for a face,” the captain says, turning on his heel for the door.

Aerik lets out a cry of indignation, then the anger flares in his eyes as he turns to me. “So, he’s the one hurt and you don’t have a mark on you? What are you, a whore now? Their spy?”