Stepping off the lip of the quarter deck, my boots collided with the main. “Are you going to continue talking yourself into a corner,assassin,or are you going to come show me exactly what Malrik’s favoredcuntis renowned for?”
That was all it took to get her to walk down the stairs from the forecastle deck to join me—my bait was sufficient to draw her near. Her attention swept between my two daggers, and without a second of hesitation, she sheathed the dagger she held in her left hand.
It was a mark of defiance, a stamp of vengeance, and the conviction of becoming the curator of damnation.
With a subtle flick, the sharpened point of her bloodied sword clanged against the wood, and she smiled at its deadly hum. “Suit yourself,Captain,but I can promise you’ll regret ever requesting this type of dance with me.”
“Your confidence is flattering, but I can still smell that uncertainty, little siren, which I will waste no time devouring.” Running the two sharpened edges of my daggers together quickly enough to draw sparks, a smirk coaxed my lips. “Let it be known that you’re just about to find out why I became the Captain of theBloodmarked, as well as why those inland have titled meThe Marked One.And I hope you don’t falter,darling,for it will very well cost you your head.”
CHAPTER 25
Little Viper
ROHEN
The harsh collision of our blades roared across the deck, competing with the storm assaulting the sky. Each crack of thunder mirrored our deadly blows, and every lightning strike symbolized the loathing we carried for one another.
There was nothing I wanted more than to end Caspian’s fucking life. I desired to be the one to rob him of his last breath, to bleed him dry, and for my ire-filled eyes to be the last thing he saw before he stumbled into Elaros’s arms. Yet, that godsdamned dream continued to haunt me, driving me toward the precipice of insanity, and making me question just how deeply tied our fates were.
Ellira had been adamant about staying with him, but her reasoning hadn’t made any sense, not when he’d become my hellscape, mydamnation.
Her ask had been too steep, especially when the godsIelected to worship hadn’t bothered to look my way for the entirety of my life. I had no interest in entertaining her wishes. Vengeance weighed far heavier on my mind, my desire for freedom coating the back of my tongue with the weighing realization: I would never escape my shackled fate if I didn’t fight for itmyself.
I’d been leveraged since the beginning, used and discarded by everyone who’d crossed my path, and I wasdone.My essence and my autonomy belonged tomeand none other, and any bastard who’d attempted to rip that away from me would meet the end of my blade. I would spend the rest of my fucking life hunting down every godsforsaken man who’d explored my body without my consent, assaulted me without moral question, and scarred my flesh as if I were nothing more than an animal.
The first step of my retribution would start with CaspianfuckingVayne. Even if butchering him led to my downfall, I’d gladly accept it so long as my sword sank into the royal crest positioned just above his heart and I was able to carve the poisoned organ from his chest.
Yearsof manipulation, tainted touches, and instilled fear had come to a close, for the compounding wrath I’d swallowed under Malrik’s influence and every male who followed had bloomed into a flower of destruction. They’d plucked my petals and polluted my colors, but little had they known they’d been priming me for vengeance, turning me into something dark and dangerous that would lead to the downfall of predatory men.
I was venomous in my own right, and Caspian would witness firsthand why Malrik selected the nickname he had for me:little viper.
Ducking beneath Caspian’s swing, my knees glided across the puddle and blood-covered deck. Water splashed, its frigidity sinking into my bones, adding to the weight of the soaked fabric adorning my body. Ignoring its assault on my vision, I angled the tip of my sword, carving through Caspian’s thighs with ease.
He snarled, his booted foot connecting with the side of my face in a perfectly executed kick. Pain erupted across my cheekbone, joined by my collision with the dampened wood a few feet from where I’d been. The clatter of metal confirmed my inability to keep hold of my sword.
Yet, I was just as deadly with my hands as I was with any weapon.
“You insidiouscunt,” he seethed, his footfalls gaining audibility as he approached. “You thought you could slaughter my crew and sneakaway? Your confidence is idiotic,Rohen,and I will gladly execute you for it.”
Feigning weakness, I curled in on myself—a mirage that his attack had contained enough damage to render me incapacitated. But the instant he came close enough, I acted.
Leveraging the slickness beneath me, I spun myself toward him, clacking our ankle bones together. The suddenness of my attack and his lack of suspicion worked to my advantage, and his balance faltered. His lapse in judgment served in my favor as I dug my shoulder blades into the planks beneath me, driving my heel into one of his twinned wounds.
He joined me on the ground as I pushed myself upright, snatching my sword from where it rested. Securing my grasp on its hilt, I was on top of him in seconds, his daggers barely catching the steel’s length as I went for his throat.
A smile consumed his features, sending a plume of fire slithering through my veins. “It seems you have been attentive to my interests, little siren.”
“You’re fucking disgusting,” I gritted out, pressing down harshly with enough force to nick his flesh.
“What’s that saying?” The question came as a hum, intensifying my desire to cut out his vocal cords. “Takes one to know one?”
“I’ll fucking gut you.”
“Don’t flirt with me, Rohen. You hate me, don’t you?”
“Hate doesn’t even cover the depth to which I wish to carve?—”
He thrust his hips upward, shoving against my sword at the same time. Unable to battle against both bouts of strength, I fixated on maintaining my position, and he matched me.
