The idea of her walking off my ship shouldn’t bother me. But it lands in my chest like something heavy. She’s the key. The only one who can get me where I need to go. That’s all this is. That’s all ithasto be. Whatever else stirs beneath that, I’ll bury it.
She won’t survive on her own. Not when word gets out about what she is, what runs in her veins. But that’s not the only reason I don’t want her to go. I want to know more. Every scar, every secret she harbors, every storm she’s hiding behind that sharp tongue.
I drag in a breath, stuffing the chaos down. I school my face into something easy, unreadable. “We can make a deal, Captain Mira,” I say at last, a slow, bitter smile pulling at my mouth. “Where should we start?”
She turns, eyes guarded, and extends her hand. It’s not surrender. It’s a challenge. A warning. I take it anyway. Her hand is soft. Small against mine. But there’s roughness too, calluses from a blade, maybe a cutlass. She’s been training. She’s not just a pretty face with a sharp tongue.
The second we touch, something shifts. A spark, instant, unwelcome. My body betrays me, igniting with something I have no right to feel. I’m supposed to hate her. I’m supposed to want her dead. Take her enchanted ship. Watch her crew fall. End that cursed bloodline. Bring honor to my name. That was the plan. Always the plan. But that plan is crumbling, fast. Now I need her.
“I think it would be best if you and your crew boarded my ship,” I say, voice steady. “Yours is too well-known, too traceable. Mine is feared in every port. No one followsThe Leviathanwithout a death wish.”
Mira raises a brow. Not in surprise, just mild annoyance. “So you want me to just drop my family heirloom off and go roaming the seas with you? What are you hiding, Pirate Lord?”
I let out a small laugh. She’s intelligent enough to question me. “Like I said, treasure, I know a lot you don’t. What I can tell you is you’re of value, I know you know it, and you will be hunted. My crew, ship, and most importantly myself, can offer you theprotection we both need to get to the fountain. We’ll be better if we travel with higher numbers.”
“And where would I sleep?” She completely dismisses what I say.
I glance around the room. My quarters. The only space I’ve never let anyone enter. Not even my crew. Not even once. I hesitate, then gesture toward the bed, massive, cold, untouched on one side. “Here.”
Her arms fold slowly across her chest, eyes narrowing. “You want me to sleep in the same room. Same bed.”
“There’s room enough not to touch,” I say flatly. “I’ve survived worse arrangements.”
She tilts her head, like she’s trying to decipher what game I’m playing. “There has to be another room.”
“There’s not.” A beat passes. “Not one that locks from the inside. Not one without eyes or ears.” I shift my weight. I hate explaining myself. But she needs to understand, I’m not offering comfort. I’m offering control. “My father’s still alive. He’s on board. He gets loose sometimes. And if he sees you…” My jaw tightens. “He’ll tear you apart before anyone can stop him.”
Her lips part, just barely. But she doesn’t flinch or cower. She calculates. I can see it in the way her gaze sweeps the room, not in fear, but in assessment. Measuring threats andme. “You think I can’t handle him?” she asks.
“I think I’ve watched him slaughter men bigger than you without blinking. Creatures that haunt your nightmares.” I pause. “He won’t care who you are. Only that you bleed. But in your case, your blood is what he has been wanting to spill for far too long.”
Another long silence. She doesn’t yield. Just stands there, spine straight, daring me to treat her like less than what she is. And maybe I would if I didn’t already know how dangerous she is.
“Hmm,” she hums, brow arching. “You keep him locked away like some dog?”
The corner of my mouth twitches, almost a laugh. “His sickness is a liability. I won’t let anyone near. Especially you.” She nods, just barely. But it’s not agreement, it’s acknowledgment. Her eyes stay on me, like she’s trying to read between the cracks. Like she knows I’m not telling her everything. And she’s right.
“And my crew?” she asks finally. “Where will they stay?”
“In the sleeping quarters,” I reply. “There’s more than enough space. Plenty of beds.” She just studies me like she’s cataloging every detail of this deal, weighing its worth. I keep my posture loose, unaffected.
What I don’t say is that my crew has thinned over the years. Not from death, but from purging. I don’t let just anyone aboardThe Leviathan. Everyone here has earned their place. Some I’ve known since I was a boy. Others I’ve fought beside, bled beside. Loyalty matters, but silence matters more.
Trust isn’t handed out like rations. It’s rare. And these days, with the sea turning restless and monsters wearing the skin of men, finding someone who won’t slit your throat in your sleep is worth more than gold. I can’t afford softness. Especially not now withheron board.
“And who will be the captain of the ship?” she says, standing straight and confident.
“Oh, Captain Mira, you sure have a lot of questions, but treasure, don’t get confused. This is my vessel.”
Her emerald eyes darken, “I won’t leaveThe Sirenif I’m not a captain of my own men… so how badly do you want this alliance, Captain Kai?” Her words are slick and full of taunting.
I can’t help but smile. She’s clever. Sharp. Bites back like she has no reason to fear me, a refreshing shift from the usual silence and flinching I’ve grown used to. Everyone else walkson eggshells around me. She strides through them barefoot. “We can both captain our crews,” I say, tone even, decisive. “Together.”
Another nod seals it, and she turns toward the door without waiting for a response. But just before she reaches it, she pauses. She’s still glowing like a flame bottled in a lantern. She pivots, eyes lit with something wild and steady.
“By the way.” Her voice is soft, but commanding. “I want the side that overlooks the ocean.” A demand, not a request. She’s already claiming space.
“I’ll allow it,” I reply, masking the amusement behind a casual shrug.
