Page 17

His body angles towards me and a shadow passes over his face. “Is that not what a villain would do?”

Before I have a chance to respond, one of his men shouts, “Captain! We’re gaining on her!”

Grayson’s steely eyes linger on me for a moment longer. I hold his gaze, not willing to show an ounce of retreat.

Then he looks to the lower deck and responds, “Ready to fire!”

As the sun hits his black hair, a midnight blue cascades through the strands like a ripple from a stone cast into the water.

For just a moment, I see myself running my fingers through those silky strands.

They are soft against my skin and he smiles at me.

Radiant, like the moon on her most glorious night.

Grayson tilts his head, pressing a featherlight kiss to the inside of my wrist. Heavenly sparks shoot up my arm from where his lips graze over my racing pulse and I feel myself falling into him.

Then, like a flash of lightning, the image is gone and I’m left standing at the railing of his quarterdeck, while Grayson shouts orders at his men.

What the hells was that? I shake my head, the image or .

. . whatever it was still clings to the frayed edges of my mind.

Internally, I groan at myself. There’s no way in hells I would consider him as anything more than the wretched monster he is.

Grayson stole my one chance of freedom, forced me onto his ship, and has since made countless threats about ending my life if I don’t obey his rules.

Grayson’s gaze searches the horizon where I note that we are, indeed, gaining on the merchant ship. It won’t be long and we’ll be within firing range of her, giving Grayson and his men another prize to be won. Given their reputation, it will likely be a swift win indeed.

The lapels of his long coat flap open in the wind, revealing the low V shape of his tunic and his bare chest—a smooth, golden brown. My mouth goes dry and I look away.

Fucking hells .

He turns towards me and says, “You are not a prisoner on my ship. If you desire to have a hand in this fight, so be it. Though”— his eyes dip to my shoulder—“it might serve you better to sit this one out and take the damned potion Doc offered you.”

Rolling my eyes, I snort. “Maybe you will need it after this fight. I wouldn’t want to take such a powerful healing aide away from you and your men.”

A shadow cascades over me as his large body, now blocking the sun, shifts closer. The right side of his lips quirks upward and I hate what it does to my insides. “I can assure you, Little Pearl, I am the last person on this ship who will be in need of that healing potion.”

It’s not just his bravado that makes me believe him, but the way he seems to enjoy what he’s about to do.

The lives he’s about to take with the sword at his hip and the cannons beneath our feet.

Zaos may have death in his eyes, but it is Grayson that everyone should be afraid of.

Because it is a truly monstrous being who relishes in the killing of others and not have it leave some kind of mark on their soul.

As I watch Grayson sweep past me and down the stairs to the main deck, I consider the kills I’ve made with my own daggers. Some when my life was hanging in the balance, and others when protecting those I care for. All taken in desperate moments.

Raven’s lifeless face settles in my mind like an omen, and the pain of grief that hits me is as strong as a rogue wave—deadly and ready to take me under. Some part of me changed the moment Blythe’s dagger swept across her neck and a river of crimson flowed freely, taking her life with it.

As I watch Grayson move along the deck, preparing his men for the fight ahead, I wonder if some part of him has ever been broken too.

If whatever led him to be so unfeeling, to see the lives of others as nothing more than a barrier to his desires, is the same as what Raven’s death is doing to me.

Decaying my everlight spirit until I am unrecognizable.

Until there is no good left in me but memories that are too far to reach.

Some part of me knows that this journey I am bound to is the start of a permanent change. For all the things that have already happened, and the things that have yet to pass, I know I will never be the same.

“Fire!” Zaos commands the men below deck to ignite the cannons’ fuses.

The deck beneath my feet shutters from the blast and the rolling of the cannons.

Wood from the merchant ship splinters. Men’s screams tear through the air as their merchant ship is torn apart.

The Caesletia has three rows of gun ports—an incredible amount of fire power that most pirate lords would only dream of possessing.

Even the king’s royal naval ships aren’t as well-equipped to manage an attack as the Caelestia .

Grayson orders his helmsman to steer closer to the merchant ship, readying to board once her captain surrenders.

An excitement hums in my veins as I grip the ship’s side railing and lean far over.

Beneath me, the men are readying the cannons again.

Pushing them closer to the gunport openings to ensure they reach their target and don’t damage the interior of the Caelestia .

But they aren’t ready quick enough as a distant cry to “ Fire! ” has the merchant ship responding with a cannon blast of their own.

A zip soars through the air as cannon balls find their mark and blast three holes into the side of the Caelestia .

Shards of wood shoot out in all directions and the impact has me wavering backward, but I grab hard onto the railing with my right arm, gritting my teeth against the strain the tension puts on my other shoulder.

Distracted, I don’t see the final cannon blast that sends an attack to one of the masts behind me. The wood turns to lethal slivers and before I have a chance to duck, one of them slices through my cheek.

“Agh!” I groan, lowering beneath the cover of the railing as I reach for my face. Drawing my hand away, bright red blood shines in the sunlight. I reach for the wound again and wince as I try to feel around to see if any of the wood is still wedged into my skin. At first touch, the wound is smooth.

Wiping the blood onto my already soiled tunic, I turn to peek over the railing and immediately feel him at my back.

“Maybe staying in your room was the smarter choice.” Grayson’s deep voice is smooth and melodic, despite the insult.

I whirl around and shove him with my good arm. He doesn’t budge an inch, which frustrates me even more. So I do the reasonable thing and shove him again.

He tilts his head back and laughs at me.

“Ah! You are awful!” I scream at him, the heat of the sun no longer a rival to the fire that sings in my veins.

He takes a step toward me. Another. And another, until I’m caged in. He has me cornered against the railing and there’s nowhere for me to go.

Refusing to look at his face, I’m forced to stare at the sliver of bronzed skin peeking through his tunic. The swell of his chest muscles drive me mad. Loathing rips through me. Why does such a hateful creature have to be sculpted by the gods? No normal male looks this good.

Turning my head to the side so I’m not tempted to reach out and see what his smooth skin might feel like beneath my fingertips, I squint against the small ray of sunlight that beams between us.

His hands move to my hips and I try not to gasp as his fingers delve into my flesh.

He shoves me against the railing. A jolt soars through my body and it’s not from the impact of hitting the firm wood behind me.

Grayson dips his head low until the entirety of the sun’s light is cast out in his shadow. Keeping my edge, I turn my face to the side. Not allowing for his lips—those fucking perfectly shaped lips—to get anywhere close to mine.

He runs his nose along the side of my cheek, moving further back still until he buries his face in my hair. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as he takes a deep breath in.

His lungs are full, but I can’t breathe. Can’t move a fucking inch with him this close for fear that I might lose control of my sanity and do something reckless.

Cannon fire blasts. The Caelestia ’s guns roar beneath us, but Grayson pays no mind as his lips tickle the cuff of my ear and he says, “Did I not tell you that the next time you put your hands on someone that they’d have a right to put their hands on you?”

“If you weren’t being such an ass then I wouldn’t have shoved you.” I try to lace each word with a threatening tone, but they come out breathless instead.

His laughter is warm against my skin, making my toes curl in my boots. “Oh, Little Pearl, I haven’t even shown you the worst of what I can do. You’re in for a brutal awakening if you think that was me being an ass.”

I buck against his hold, but his hands are like a vice on my hips.

I try not to think about the heat budding within me as his hands splay wider, his fingers pressing firmly against me.

I finally look at him, our noses nearly touching.

The scent of the sea and warm cedar surrounds me, threatening to pull me under his spell.

But I won’t have it. I won’t allow this brute the satisfaction of knowing just how badly he’s getting under my skin.

“I can take care of myself,” I hiss. “I don’t need some overbearing male telling me where I should be when we’re in the middle of a fight.”

His head tilts as he assesses me. That damn smirk he wears reveals his true thoughts about me—I’m nothing more than an amusement to him.

But then he does something I don’t expect.

With a tender touch, he runs his finger close to the wound on my cheek. I wince from the contact, my skin stinging like wildfire. “Would this not suggest otherwise?” his voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.

Blushing, I feel the creep of embarrassment. “It’s nothing.”

His eyes are wholly trained on me. A cascade of fallen stars shines amongst the churning ocean—sapphire blue and sparks of silvery white swirl in his irises. Staring into them feels as though I’m falling through some endless bound of time with nothing to hold onto except for him.

Somewhere in the distance, another round of cannon fire sounds and Grayson breaks our connection, looking above my head.

In a frenzy of motion, he pulls me close to his chest, my shoulder screaming at the impact.

Then we truly are falling. The world is a blur of browns, blues, and whites as we’re spun around and my back finally lands against something hard.

Grayson’s arms are wrapped around me, his hand cradling the back of my head as his face finally comes back into view. A parade of wood pieces rain down on us as he covers my face with his chest, bringing me closer once again.

The strong smell of gun powder and oak lingers in the air from the blast. The sound of men shouting cuts through the haze, along with the sound of boots running over the deck.

Grayson rises onto his forearms. The weight of his lower body pressed against mine feels oddly comforting as I shake my head side to side, trying to ward the dust of the explosion away from my eyes.

In one smooth motion, Grayson lifts us both up to standing. Somehow, he avoids my wounded shoulder and I’m on my feet again.

“They’ve waved the white! Prepare to board!” a voice that sounds much like Zaos’s bellows across the deck. The sharp ringing of swords being drawn sends a chill down my spine.

“You’ve almost gotten yourself killed twice now and you haven’t even been with us for one day.” The echo of Grayson’s words rings around my clattered mind.

Still dazed from what just happened, I just look up at him and blink.

“Go back to your room, Rowenya,” he commands, and some carnal part of me desires to do whatever he pleases.

Stunned, I watch Grayson pull his longsword from its sheath and without another word he disappears into the crowd of his men as they edge toward the railing, preparing to board the merchant ship.

A dull ache settles between my brows as I watch Grayson and his men walk the planks to cross the gap to the merchant ship from the safety of the quarterdeck.

The hull of the merchant ship has gaping holes from the Caelestia’s attack.

It wouldn’t have survived much longer if her captain had not surrendered.

Amongst all the men, my gaze is immediately drawn to Grayson’s lithe movements as he lands easily on the deck of the ship.

Everything about him is beauty laced with the hard edge of death.

With Zaos at his side, Grayson saunters up the stairs of the ship’s quarterdeck where the captain stands at the railing.

My stomach coils at the sight of him. Twin rivers of blood trail out of his nose and down his chin.

Grayson’s men surround the commandeered crew on the main deck, their swords pointing toward the bundle of bodies to ensure no one tries to escape or start a fight.

Tommy’s lanky body stands out on the far end of the deck.

He tosses his hair out of his face, but keeps his short sword pointed straight.

I wait to see what Grayson will do with the souls on board as one of his men walks up the steps and whispers something into his ear. Grayson looks at him pointedly, and the man nods to confirm whatever he just said. Grayson takes a step toward the opposing captain and draws his sword.

Scrunching my brows, I keep my gaze trained on his weapon. The captain and his men surrendered . It is against The Code to assassinate those who bend the knee and that’s exactly what it looks like Grayson is about to do.

I hold my breath, unable to reconcile what I am seeing.

Grayson Tyde is ruthless in his endeavors.

I know this to be true. But if word gets out that Grayson is taking liberties with the only honor left amongst our kind, surely a mutiny will occur—or the remaining pirate lords may chase him down, forcing him to answer for his wrong doings.

Pirates may not be civilized, but what honor we have left runs deep. It is the very reason I have been cast out for the dishonorable things I’ve done.

Grayson’s men look up at him from the deck below as he walks behind the merchant ship’s captain and lays the tip of his sword on the man’s shoulder.

Grayson gives his men the signal and swords swing through the air.

Blood sprays everywhere. Bodies fall, their thuds mixing with gasps and silenced screams.

Bile rises in my throat at the injustice of it. The cruelty that blankets Grayson’s face as he pulls back his sword and releases a sweeping blow after the opposing captain was forced to watch every one of his men die before he met his own end.

In this moment, I realize . . . there is nothing beautiful about Grayson Tyde at all. For his darkness is too bleak. It casts out all light.