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I shivered, but not from cold. “They get legs to run away?”

“Wrong fairy tale.” His fingers traced up my arm, leaving scorch marks in their wake. “They get caught by pirates.”

My breath hitched. Damn me, but I played along. “And what do pirates do with their captives?”

His dark eyes held mine, reflecting the silver moonlight like obsidian pools. “Whatever they please.”

A throb pulsed deep inside.

I should pull away. I should slap him and run back to the safety of the house. I should remember the details of our situation.

Instead, my fingers skimmed over his hard stomach. If he was going to make me burn, I was going to bring him into the flames with me.

“What are you going to do now, little mermaid?” His fingers moved to trace over my lip, tugging the bottom one beforecaressing down my throat. They lingered over my pulse, the predator feeling how his prey’s heart beat wildly.

“A man who takes what he wants, consequences be damned,” I whispered, my voice betraying me with its tremor.

Markos’s laugh was low, intimate. “And what if what I want is standing right in front of me, soaking wet and defiant?”

The night air suddenly felt too thick to breathe. His proximity was intoxicating, dangerous—like standing at the edge of a cliff and feeling the urge to jump.

“Run away, prinkípissa, while you still can.”

My heart thumped once—twice.

And then I turned and ran. I didn’t look back until I was safely on the back stoop. Pausing at the kitchen door, breath coming in ragged pants, I looked behind me. The monster was nowhere to be found, but I would be delusional if I thought he wasn’t watching me from the shadows.

A fairy tale, he’d said. Most of those ended in blood and tragedy. That was not going to be my fate. I dove into the kitchen and slammed the door. Only...a little voice laughed in the back of my mind. It wasn’t enough to keep the monster away. This was his lair, after all.

Chapter 10 – Serena

Although I was curious about an Orthodox Church service, sleep was more enticing than attending. The few extra hours I managed to snatch were worth the scolding for missing church. Sunday dinner, however, was not optional. I sat with Evangelia and her mother at a long communal table and gorged on the flavors of traditional Greek dishes. The meal was heavily seafood based, and I couldn’t get enough of the grilled catch of the day. It was so fresh! So perfect.

The whole community gathered in the center of the village, sitting at three long, wooden tables. Children ran about, playing and nibbling off the adults’ plates. The old timers gabbed in their native tongue, and happiness flowed like an unseen energy through the space. Even as an outsider, the majority of people were friendly to me, and I stopped being self-conscious about the fading bruises on my face. Quite a few ladies pressed me to try their soups, swearing it was the best in the village. It was hard to give the first place to any of them, they were all divine in their own way.

But despite the few interactions, I felt like I was looking in on their gathering rather than participating. Many shot curious glances in my direction, and I knew they still whispered about the strange woman staying in Markos’s cottage. The Black Tide, they called him. An ominous name for my absent host.

I noticed four adults sitting toward the head of one table. They hadn’t been in town before. Of that, I was positive! As they ate, they seemed to hold court over their area. Every so often, the villagers around them would change. Each time, there was a new, animated discussion.

“I’ve never seen them before,” I commented to Evangelia, nodding subtly to their section.

She didn’t need to look. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “They are part of the leadership.”

Translation: they were mobsters.

“Even the woman?” I glanced curiously at her.

Long black hair cascaded down her back, and the smile on her face was damn near feral as she leaned toward a villager and whispered something in the man’s ear.

“Well, yeah, of course.” There was that look again.

I resisted the urge to check if I’d sprouted two more heads.

“She’s really a leader? Not married to a don—” I caught myself “—a boss?”

Evangelia blanched. “Oh, that’s dangerous. Don’t ever say that in front of her!”

“What is?” Iosif quipped, appearing behind us and ruffling his sister’s hair.