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I’m at her in a second, moving like a flash of lightning and grabbing her wrists, pulling them behind her as I go behind her back, my hand at her throat and holding tight. I’m not foolish enough to attempt to put my hand over her mouth, not with those needle teeth that could reappear at any moment.

She squirms and she’s stronger than she was before but I’m still stronger. No matter what she is, I still can overpower her, and I’m faster too.

“I’d like to make this as easy on you as possible,” I say to her, my mouth at her ear. “But with how I’ve seen you behave, I…”

I trail off. Dear lord, her smell is overpowering and in the most aggravating way possible. She’s sweet and musky and it screams sex to me, overriding my senses and making me want to fuck her something fierce, more so than normal.

I have to shake it out of me. That’s not what I’m doing here.

“What about how I behave?” she says, her throat moving against my hand as she speaks. The vibration gets under my skin, making my cock harder than ever. What is she doing to me? Is this part of her spell?

“I can’t trust you not to kill me or my crew,” I manage to say to her, my voice thick. “So I have no choice but to lock you up.”

“Put the bird back in her cage,” she comments sourly.

“Oh, you’re not going in the cage. You’re going in chains.”

“Chains!” she cries out and tries to struggle.

I hold her tight. “Quiet. You sound just like your insufferable husband.” I pause. “Or should I say late-husband. You know I’m going to have to answer for a lot now that the mermaid is dead and so is the hostage.”

“You’re the one who killed the mermaid,” she spits out.

“Mercy kill,” I remind her. “I’ll thank you to come along now.”

With my grip vice-tight, I bring her out of the room with the dead bodies and down the stairs to the hold. At one end is the place where we hold the prisoners and livestock if we bring any on board, the rest is storage for dry provisions, powder and shot stores, water and provisions in barrels, plus a hold for any treasure we plunder. At the opposite side of the ship from the prisoner hold is a small room where we keep a set of chains for certain events. This is where I bring Maren.

It’s pitch black in here but I can do this with my eyes closed. I quickly put her hands above her head, chains running from a beam in the ceiling to the cuffs around her wrists, then I do the same to her feet on the ground, keeping her legs far apart enough to keep her from trying to move but not so much that she can’t stand.

“You bastard!” she cries out, squirming and twisting. “You can’t do this to me!”

I chuckle and fumble for matches nearby and strike one against the wall, lighting a nearby lantern. I put the lantern over to the side and out of the way and look her over as the flames dance along her features, illuminating the room in light and shadows.

She’s sneering at me, her face contorting into hatred but just like before, the more she hates me, the more I seem to desire her.

“Let’s see what you really are, luv,” I say to her. I step over until I’m right in front of her and I place my hands at her chest, my fingers taking a hold of the edges of her bodice, the fabric still wet with the blood from Aerik’s heart. With one defiant tug I yank the dress apart, ripping it down the middle.

She cries out and I’m staring at her naked body like I’d just been slapped by god himself.

She is built like a goddess, a creation of the divine. Her breasts are full, large, heavy, her nipples turning into small pink peaks in the exposed air, her skin a smooth white that erupts with gooseflesh under my gaze. Her stomach is soft and round and begging to be touched, her thighs wide, her calves quite thin in comparison, and short. At first I think I see what I’m looking for, some sort of hint at the creature she is. If she was a type of mermaid that could trade fins for legs, would she have scales? But there is no sign of scales, just the natural lines of white and pink that stripe along her fleshy thighs and stomach, all perfectly normal on a woman.

I come around to her back and do the same thing to the dress there, ripping it down the middle so that it falls away to the sides, the fabric only held on by the arms. I expected to see perhaps a fish-like spine or maybe a divination tattoo linking her to witchcraft but instead there is nothing but smooth skin and a firm, supple arse and…

Her back. I squint to see various lines and scars running over her back. But these aren’t from growth spurts or from having supernatural origins. They’re from being flogged.

A low grumble sounds in my chest like a warning. “Do I need to ask who did this to you?” I manage to say.

“I’ve taken care of it,” she says coldly and there’s nothing more to say. The prince she married, the prince who ridiculed her and beat her throughout her marriage, is now dead, and at her hands. Literally.

I come back around to her front.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asks. Her voice is a touch lower now, sounding like silk. Something about her tone sets me on edge.

“Figured it was only fair since you saw me nude, it’s time I saw you,” I tell her. I’m close, quite close, but the more I stare at her lips, at the dried blood on them, the more I want to kiss her and I know that’s what she wants. I need to keep my distance. There’s no telling when those teeth might come back.

I step back an inch to where she can’t bite my face off. But still I’m unable to unhook myself from her gaze. I don’t want to. I need to keep my focus on her at all times. Her eyes are absolutely hypnotic.

“Do I look acceptable to you?” she asks, and the seductive slant of her eyes softens slightly, a touch of vulnerability coming through her voice.