Page 24

I look away and find myself staring straight at Zaos.

Not a single worker strays toward him and that’s likely because of the foul sneer that mars his hard face.

His eyes dart from one woman to the next with disgust and something more.

He’s . . . assessing them. As though one of the dainty women might pull a dagger out of their frilly skirts and strike at any moment.

My brows bunch as I watch him shift his attention to Grayson.

“Captain, we have matters to tend to.” His usually stern voice is softer as he speaks but there is still an edge to his words and I am thankful for it.

If it rids me of this sinking feeling in my stomach from watching Grayson fawn over the busty blonde, then maybe I could hate Zaos a little less.

Maybe.

I feel Grayson turn his eyes on me, the heat of his gaze burns straight to my core. I refuse to pay him any mind as I stifle the strange feelings I have for the brute and make a mental note to squash them forever once I have a private moment to myself and can sift through the chaos of my mind.

“I do apologize, darling, but my dear friend is right. We have matters to tend to that cannot wait.”

Darling .

My heart is a thunderous, wild thing in my chest.

“I can visit you later,” the blonde responds before biting her lower lip. She certainly knows how to work her customers.

I snort and roll my eyes, which earns me a wicked sneer from her. Moving my hand to the hilt of my dagger, she watches and I see the frown she wears shift to a look of concern.

Grayson eyes me and his rich, warm laughter surrounds us.

“We’ll see about a visit, Cassandra. But here’s a treat for now.

” He flicks a silver shilling in the air and she catches it like an owl snatching its prey.

Without another word, she turns for the brothel door and disappears inside, the back of her skirts shimmying across the dirt ridden ground.

With one final glance over her shoulder, she smirks at me.

That fucking ? —

Unsheathing my dagger, I move to throw it through the crack of the open door but before I can rear my arm back, a firm grip clasps over my wrist.

“Always throwing things.” Grayson clicks his tongue at me. “Tell me, Little Pearl, have you always been so violent?”

Yanking my wrist free, I snarl, “Only when I’m annoyed.”

He reaches up to touch the side of my face, but I evade him. He laughs, igniting every nerve in my body. “I see. I must admit, it surprises me to know that another woman touching me annoys you.”

“That’s not what?—”

“Come now. If this partnership is to succeed, we shouldn’t lie to one another.”

“Partnership?” I scoff, the agitation growing like liquid fire in my veins.

Grayson faces me fully now and I can sense Zaos and the rest of his crew eyeing us with curiosity. “Yes. A partnership,” he says a little louder.

That’s when I realize the importance of his words. Glancing around the street, passersby slow their strides and tilt their ears to catch a glimmer of our conversation. Grayson wants it to be known to everyone on this island that I am with him willingly.

I just don’t know if it’s for his benefit or mine.

Regardless of his intentions though, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for others to assume I am working with him of my own volition.

Blythe has likely already started his journey to gather more ships to hunt us down and take back the Serpent’s Key.

If word spreads that I am under the protection of Grayson and his crew, then no one will dare act against me—not even if Blythe Quint deems it a worthy cause.

My nostrils flare. Grayson has me cornered and he damn well knows it. I can’t fight against him. Not here. Not while so many eyes are upon us.

“Let’s just go,” I grumble, staring at the ground so I don’t have to meet his gaze.

Impatiently, I wait for him to turn around and when he finally does I’m met with another wave of exhaustion. From the moment Blythe’s dagger ran across Raven’s neck, I’ve felt like I can’t catch my breath. Too much has happened. My mind is a constant hurricane of thoughts and emotions.

All I want to do is sleep and it seems to be the one thing that keeps evading me.

Grayson and Zaos start walking forward. I follow suit, keeping my eyes trained on their boots. I can’t afford to see anything else that might ignite my anger. My fuse is spent—all that remains is a line of ash.

Behind me, I hear the rest of the working women groan with regret as our party moves on. I have no doubt most of Grayson’s crew will work their way back to this very place once the evening’s work is complete and Grayson gives them the go ahead.

A comfortable quiet falls around us as we trek further into the village.

There are fewer people wandering the streets as the moon rises higher in the sky.

Most visitors tend to stay closer to the shore where there’s an abundance of taverns and brothels within a short distance from the bay where everyone’s ships remain vulnerable and in need of a close watch.

Grayson’s decision to stay further inland tells me he knows no one would dare make a move against his ship—even with the skeleton crew that remains upon it. For whoever tried would be signing their own death sentence.

Salt still clings to the air here as the candles in the outside lanterns dim. Their wicks are more than halfway gone and will need to be replaced soon for the taverns that offer a guiding light to wandering souls in need of a warm bed in the waning hours of the night.

As Grayson edges closer to the left side of the street, I keep my eyes fixed on the middle of his back to ward off the wavering in my body from being at sea for so many days.

I’ve always been great with my sea legs, but the moment I step back onto land my body rejects the idea of being too far away from the ocean.

Sleep tugs on my wary soul, but I keep pushing further. Not letting the false sense of the ocean rolling beneath my feet lull me.

We arrive at The Pointed Dagger, one of the few inns I haven’t stayed in on the island.

A wooden sign hangs from the awning with the tavern’s name etched into it with swirling print.

Four pane windows line the outside to the right of the door.

Shadows dance through the blue-colored glass, revealing several patrons sitting at nearby tables.

A soft melody spills from the cracks of the closed door.

It grows louder as Zaos opens it and Grayson and I walk through—the rest of his crew following closely behind us.

Grayson has to bend down to make it through the arched doorway without hitting his head. Once we pass through the threshold, savory aromas fill my nose. I breathe in deeply and my mouth waters. I haven’t had a decent meal since the night Grayson invited me into his quarters.

What a hellish evening that was .

I follow him to the long bar on the left as his crew follows Zaos further inward to a group of empty tables at the back. The moment people take notice of us, a hush settles over the crowd, and whoever is strumming their fingers over the strings of the harp stops.

Grayson pays them no mind as he leans his elbows on the bar, the leather of his long coat crinkling.

“What’re you fools all staring at?!” someone from down the bar hollers. Not a second later, and everyone goes back to their conversations and the harp player begins plucking the strings again.

I slide up next to Grayson, careful not to touch his forearm, and peek across him to see a large man with curly red hair and a long red beard huffing as he walks toward us.

When he stops in front of Grayson, his thick nose twitches as he sniffs the air twice.

“Well, aren’t you ripe as a rotten apple.

How long have you been at sea for, boy?”

I chuckle and Grayson whips his head toward me. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who notices how badly you and your men stink.” It was a lie straight through my teeth, but it feels good to take a jab at him.

He scowls at me before turning back to the bar keep. “Harrick, I don’t appreciate you giving this one any more ammunition to fire at me with.”

The bar keep—Harrick—whips a dirty white towel over his shoulder and bellows a deep rumble of laughter. “The moment I saw you walk in with this pretty little thing in tow, I knew I had to put you in your place.”

“She is a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Grayson’s ocean blue eyes slide to me once again and the edge of his lips tick upward.

“Bastard,” I grumble.

“With a silver tongue too.” Harrick snickers. “I bet you have your hands full with that one.”

“His hands aren’t full of anything of mine,” I chide and Harrick raises his brows at me then laughs again.

Grayson tilts his head until his lips graze the cuff of my ear and whispers only for me to hear, “We’ll see how long that stays true.”

I elbow him in the side of his ribs. Hard.

He doesn’t even cough from the impact, but my elbow stings like wildfire.

“You’re insufferable,” I retort.

“And you, Little Pearl, are deliciously agitating.” He slides a lock of hair behind my ear. A line of heat singes my skin from where his finger strokes my cheek. “Don’t forget the rule. You lay your hands on me and I get to return the favor.”

I growl at him, which only makes his blue eyes shine brighter, the small flecks of white ignite like silver flames.

“We’ll need all the rooms you can spare, Harrick,” Grayson says without taking those eyes off me.

My gaze finds his lips. I know he catches my mistake, because they widen into a devilish grin.

His pearly white canines are striking against the dark tan of his skin.

I silently curse him for how beautiful he is.

But mostly, I curse myself for—after everything he’s already done—still wanting to reach out and touch him.

I flex my hand wide before tightening it into a fist. The sharp bite of my nails against my skin barely distracts me from the growing heat between my legs.