Not even a whisper of hope responds.
The streets are filled to the brim with pirates, working women, and merchants who think they’re savvy enough to gull our kind into undesirable trades. Grayson and Zaos head our entourage and despite the number of people on the street, everyone seems to make way for us.
Since my father died and I was forced to take over his debts with Red Beard, the people of Emerald Cove have looked upon me with disdain. They know what I have become—a bounty hunter for a crook on the mainland. A breaker of The Code. A target they all want their shot at.
There was never a time when I could simply walk the streets of Emerald Cove as a grown woman and not have someone sneer at me, throw something at me, or threaten to cut my innards out with their knife.
There was never a time when I could walk about freely without constantly looking over my shoulder. That was until this very moment as I stride behind the most powerful pirate ever known to exist, along with his faithful watchdog. One wrong look at Grayson and I know Zaos would plant one of his throwing knives into their tender flesh.
I can’t help but wonder what Grayson did to buy his blind loyalty. I could see it when we had our tiff on the quarterdeck. Zaos saw me as a threat to his captain and he wanted nothing more than to eliminate that threat—even if it got him in trouble. But he seized his efforts the moment his captain gave the order. It is a strong bond indeed to forgo one’s own instincts at the command of another.
There is something alluring about the power Grayson possesses. Even before Esoros had become overrun with its blight, I can’t recall the king being revered in the same way. How they all look at Grayson—not only with fear, but with awe—well, it is an unfamiliar magick. Whatever his immortal soul is made of charms everyone around him.
A divine trickery that even I have fallen for. Despite my best efforts, I somehow keep finding myself tripping over it again and again.
It irritates me to no end.
Colorful women with rouge painted lips and coal smeared eyes stand outside the brothel as we pass. Their skirts are hiked up so high I’m surprised there’s enough fabric to hide their cunts as they wave at passersby with a wiggle of their fingers or a flutter of their fans. I don’t balk at them, because I know Raven would have become one of them. Much like Raven, the girls we pass by were likely sold into the sex trade when they were young children and passed around from brothel to brothel. That life is all they know—all they’ve been allowed to know.
One striking blonde with a doll-like face and supple breasts spilling out of her corset saunters up to Grayson. He slows his pace and my stomach tightens as she strokes his exposed forearm.
“Well aren’t you the handsomest devil I’ve ever seen.” She bats her long lashes at him and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to pull my gaze away from his face. I want to see what he says to her. What his reaction is. And I hate how I hold my breath in anticipation.
“And how would you know what a devil looks like?” His voice is low, sultry. My heartbeat quickens. I want to look away. Ineedto look away, but I can’t. Not as he stops walking and caresses a finger down the side of her porcelain skin.
Several other women file out of the front door of the brothel and Grayson’s men behind me start whistling. I eye them over my shoulder to see a few of them grabbing onto two women at once, whispering promises of how much pleasure they might grant them.
I snort. As if these men have any idea how to please a woman. Their bravado speaks truth enough of how they likely make use of their time in bed. Consumed with their own desires, leaving no room to consider what their bed mate might want.
Tension hikes my shoulders to my ears as I see the beautiful woman lean into Grayson’s touch. She flutters her bright blue eyes closed as though his touch is the most holy thing she’s ever experienced. My skin grows hot as I swallow the knot in my throat. He moves his hand down to her arm and settles it there. A familiar gesture.
“I’ve seen devils before,” she whispers. “You all have the same eyes.”
Her words give her away. She must have great luck with calling strong men devils—making them feel powerful and seductive. But Grayson Tyde does not need to feel those thingsbecause heispower. Heisseduction. And the wench doesn’t know a damn thing about his celestial eyes. If she did, she would know there is nothing devilish about them. They are pure stardust floating amongst the bluest ocean. They are transcendent and . . . they are peering straight at me.
Fucking hells.
As though he aroused an ancient siren’s call from the murky depths to enchant me, his lips widen until he’s smiling at me fully. A knowing look passes over his face and that’s when I feel the snap of whatever spell he put me under break, leaving nothing but icy hot rage in its wake.
Surrounded by his men, I have nowhere to go and he knows it. I’m forced to watch as he leans down and nestles his nose against the woman’s neck. She giggles and I bunch my fists so tightly that my fingernails bite into my palms.
I don’t know why I care. Ishouldn’tcare. But fire sears me to my core and it is so damnconfusing. Grayson Tyde is a lethal poison that tastes like the most heavenly sweets. I both want him and loathe him and I do not understand the feelings raging war within me. My blood sings for him at the same time my mind screams at me to wring my bare hands around his neck. I want to throw my dagger at his chest and yet . . . my fingers ache to know what it might feel like to touch every inch of him.
The same waysheis touching him.
I can’t take it anymore—not as she runs her hand up the side of his arm and buries it beneath his black locks as she holds onto the back of his neck.
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.