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Safe in the shelter of his body, I snuggled into the impossibly soft warmth.

They tried to make me forget you. They are trying to break the bonds of man.

A dangerous smile spread across his face, sharp teeth gleaming.“And what did you tell them, princess?”

That they don’t understand what lives in the deep. That what we have can’t be torn asunder.

“It can’t.”He cradled me close, and we drifted on the sea of mystery as the moon continued her trek across the heavens.

***

I woke late in the morning, groggy and stiff. Groaning, I burrowed into the pillows. Those sleeping pills my brother’s late wife had were dangerous. I nabbed them once, hording them to escape reality. It had been years since I needed one. But with all of Sandro’s bullshit the past few days, I couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t just his crap, though. Whatever virus I contracted was strange. I was sick all hours of the day. Food disgusted me. It was obvious my immune system was weakened from stress. That was why I finally gave in to the drugs. One good nap, and I already felt refreshed this morning. So far, my stomach was settled. Maybe I could manage a piece of dry toast.

I moved, just to be sure, and when no bout of nausea pulsed in my gut, I sighed with relief.

The flashes of my dreams played through my mind. I focused on them, trying to recall every detail. Journaling wasn’t a habit of mine like it was with my sister-in-law. But I was going to write down what remained of the sea, the enchanted beach, and, best of all, my pirate.

Madonna mia, I miss him.

I touched my throat, momentarily worried my voice was gone. “Markos,” I whispered his name into the shelter of my pillow.

There was no response. My voice worked. It was day, and I was in freaking Chicago.

With another groan, I pushed up and padded to the bathroom. Two steps, and I stopped. My sleeper bottoms were missing. The strap of my camisole was broken.

“What the hell?” I muttered.

I must have thrashed in the tangled web of dreams. It was the only explanation. And the wetness? How embarrassing. I was so damn turned on by the dream pirate that my thighs wore the evidence of my arousal.

Taking a moment to clean myself with toilet tissue, my frown deepened. There was more on my legs and between my thighs than was normal. I had only been this messy when Markos took me.

It was almost as if hehadbeen here.

Even realizing the ridiculousness of that statement, my heart skipped a beat. Stranger things had happened. Markos was a criminal, and a crafty, sly one at that. If anyone could slip past my brother’s guards, it would be a pirate king.

Rushing back to my bedroom, I looked wildly about.

“Give me a sign,” I breathed.

There was no evidence of a break-in. My window was locked. There was no note, no gift to tell me a dark force had stalked me in the dead of night.

“Stupid sleeping pills!” I fisted my hands at my side. I was so out of it, there was no knowing if I’d been alone and dreaming or if the impossible had happened.

In a desperate last effort, I rushed to my bed. Reaching for the pillows, I inhaled deeply. If the scent of cedar mixed with salt and sea lingered, it was likely a trick of the imagination. Because if I closed my eyes, my mind remembered the sound of the sea so strongly, that I swore it was right beyond my curtains.

“It was just a dream,” I sighed. The ache in my chest pulsed in resignation.

But the determination in my mind rallied. I was going to wear Sandro down. He came rushing down to Florida to rescue me, when all I needed was his armies to do battle on my behalf. Now, his prisoner, I wouldn’t stop until he released me to the man who’d claimed my heart, body, and soul—and whose I stole in return.

Chapter 39 – Serena

Tension reigned supreme in the dining room. My throat was raw from yelling. Sandro’s face was red from shouting. Penelope watched her plate, her sunny disposition subdued.

This—this clustered mess—was unacceptable.

I slapped my fork against the table and shoved the fresh set of papers onto the ground. Penelope jumped, and Sandro sighed. Penny might have destroyed the first set of documents, but Sandro wasn’t an underworld king on good looks alone. He’d figured it out quickly. Now hell was here and demanded payment.