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“But our crew was strong too. We did all the physical work, and I figured if we banded together, we could toss the officers overboard and take the ship.” A tremor traces through me. “It didn’t go as planned.”

I pause and her hair brushes over my chest as I gather the courage to revisit what happened. The way she’s been listening, accepting my story without judgment, fuels me with the strength and the overwhelming desire to continue.

“When we attempted to take over, the officers,” I tell her, “they killed most of the crew. Tore them to pieces and tossed their bodies to the sharks.”

Her breath stops with a sharp shudder. “How did you survive?”

“The captain knew that I started it. He told me that death was too good for me, too easy.” Plus, he seemed hurt. Like I’d betrayed him.

“What happened then?” Her voice is tight and small, like she’s feeling the pain along with me.

It’s time to crack a joke. Get things back into the sexy mood from before.

Telling this is rough but cathartic for me, but there’s no excuse for causing her so much anguish.

“You don’t need to continue,” she says softly, “but there isn’t anything you could tell me that I don’t want to hear.”

I pull in a ragged breath, soaking in her calming, loving nature that seems to see good in the worst parts of me.

“The captain locked me up in the hold,” I continue. “In a tiny cell. Way too small for me to stand, barely big enough for me to curl up diagonally.” My throat closes again and I tremble.

“Oh, Ryker.” Her fingers stroke through my hair in the most calming caress.

“He gave me food and water,” I tell her. “And at first, I thought that was out of kindness, humanity, but later I realized it was because he wanted to keep me strong. And I played right into his hands, because I wanted to stay strong too.

“So I ate his damn food, I drank his water, and I took what exercise I could in the small space.” I shake my head. “Trying to keep strong for my chance to escape.”

I’m making it sound like all I did was exercise, when in reality I spent most of the time curled up in a ball, screaming and shaking, going mad with fear and isolation.

“How long were you trapped like that?” she asks.

“No idea. I lost track.” My body tightens, and I draw a few long breaths to release the tension. “But after…” I shake my head. “When it was all over, I’m pretty sure more than a year had passed.”

“No!” Her hand strokes my cheek. “Ryker. I can’t even imagine. How did it end?”

“At some point—I’d guess about four months in—the captain started letting me out of the cell for short times.”

“That’s good.” She turns in my arms and looks into my eyes.

“No, it was fucking awful.”

“Why?”

“Because he only let me out to fight.” My eyes narrow. “He’d force me to fight his officers. Being vampires, they’d always win of course, and their prize was to fuck me once I was pinned down or knocked out.”

Anger joins with the fear and panic these memories bring, but her hand reaches up to my cheek to help calm it.

“Through the fights, I got stronger and stronger. More vicious, but I felt the opposite—helpless, weak.”Hopeless.

“They were vampires.” Her hand strokes my tight neck.

I nod. “I didn’t know that.”

“When did you find out?”

“Once my strength had built back up. Once I was even stronger and fiercer than I’d been before the hold. Once they’d turned me into a fucking fighting machine—that’s when my real torture began.”

“More?” Her word comes out on a high-pitched exhale.