Mira stands, her eyes locking onto mine from across the room. She walks toward me like the storm she is, graceful, steady, inevitable.
Every man in that bar gives me space, stepping back without needing to be told. They know better. And if any one of them even looks at her the wrong way, I’ll happily remind them why the legends about me are all true.
“Neressa playing tricks on you?” Mira asks, her voice soft, threaded with amusement. There’s a warmth in her tone that wraps around me like something familiar, something I don’t realize I’ve missed until I hear it again. I meet her gaze. Those dark emerald eyes pull me. Beautiful.
“Seems like it,” I mutter, my voice low, edged with steel. “If I hear you’re in even a grain of sand’s worth of danger, I’ll be there.”
A teasing smile ghosts across her lips, eyes flickering with mischief. Then, without a word, she brushes past me, the faintest touch of her shoulder sending a spark straight through me as she heads toward the door. Her scent trails after her, vanilla and sea salt.
I turn to Neressa. Her eyes meet mine, hard as cut glass. No words. Just a silent promise:Hurt her, and I’ll end you. I give a single nod. Nothing more. A gesture of respect… and acknowledgment that I heard her loud and clear.
We step outside the pub. The night air snaps against my skin, cold and sharp, but it is nothing compared to the storm rolling off Mira as she charges ahead of me. She doesn’t speak. Her silence has weight, heavier than a cannonball. I know exactly what she’s angry about. The kiss. That damn kiss she saw.
“Mira,” I call, cutting in front of her path. She doesn’t stop. Just keeps walking like I don’t exist. I grab her arm, not hard, but enough to make her turn. She resists, but I hold firm. “Listen to me.” Her gaze stays on the ground, locked and distant.Frustration claws up my throat. “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.”
Mira lets out a sharp breath, a sigh laced with fury. Her eyes roll, slow and intentional, before they finally meet mine, dark, burning, disbelieving.
“You comfort me all night,” she says, her voice low and shaking, “about leaving my ship, my beautiful, magical ship, behind. And then you go and shove your tongue down some whore’s filthy mouth?” Her voice cracks on the last word, more rage than heartbreak. Her shoulders tremble slightly, the only crack in her steel armor. Then, with a slow shake of her head, she exhales, like she’s trying to shake the image from her mind. She tugs at her arm again, trying to break free. I don’t let her.
Her eyes drop to my chest, her voice flat but heavy. “You’re not mine. I don’t have the right to be upset, I don’t even understand why these feelings are so strong. Maybe I’m just upset about leaving her.”The Siren. She’s more heartbroken than I know, and me doing what she thinks I did doesn’t help. I tighten my grip, not to trap her, but to anchor her. To keep her from running when we both knew this needs to be said. I felt the tension in her muscles, the quiet tremor riding just beneath her skin. She can pretend all she wants, but this got to her.
“My tongue wasn’t down her throat,” I say, voice low, dragging out each word. “You can trust me. I’m sorry about you having to leaveThe Siren. I can see how much she means to you. But trust me when I say, I’m not looking at any other woman except the fiery one standing in front of me.”
Even in the moonlight, I see the blush that climbs her neck, warming her cheeks despite the anger still simmering between us. And gods, it does something to me. But I don’t let it show. “I don’t like my integrity being questioned,” I add, letting the edge slip back into my voice. “She came to me. Not the other way around.”
I take a step closer, my eyes locking on hers. “I stood in the shadows all night, watching every move you made. Making sure no one laid a hand on you, I will continue to do that.” Her gaze lifts, emerald eyes catching the moonlight like sea glass glinting at the bottom of the sea. I can’t look away.
“We’ll see,” she murmurs, the words soft but threaded with steel.
We walk back to the ship in silence. The kind that wraps around your ribs and squeezes. Only the crash of waves against the rocks and the distant roar of drunken laughter breaks the quiet. But even that feels far away. Between us, the silence says more than we’re ready to. And it weighs more than either of us is willing to admit.
Chapter ten
Mira
Moonlit Promises
When we return to the ship, the crew is scattered across the deck and cabins, some finishing supper, others already asleep, and the rest lost in the rhythm of their usual tasks. Before we left, Kai made himself clear: no bloodshed, and no one dead by the time we returned. Shockingly, they listened. Not a single brawl or scratch. Most have already turned in for the night, resting for whatever storms tomorrow might bring. The ones still awakepass around bottles of rum, their laughter rolling across the deck like low thunder. They swap stories like old friends, their walls lowered for once. Some of them even seem to get along better than I expected, a rare and welcome change. With the road ahead long and uncertain, that thin thread of camaraderie might be the only thing that keeps us from unraveling.
I head straight for the captain’s quarters. Kai cleared space for some of my things, not that I had much. Life at sea teaches you to travel light. A few shirts, worn-in pants, a couple of corsets, a skirt or two. Nothing fancy. I own more weapons than I do clothing. What will take up space are my parents’ belongings, the ones I salvaged fromThe Siren. Their journals, especially, need to be hidden somewhere safe. I want to be the first to read them. Deep in my bones, I know the answers are there. Pirates always have secrets. My parents had more than most.
After unpacking what little I brought, I let myself take in the room for the second time. The large bed sits beneath tall windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, framing the sea in glass. The sheets catch my eye. He’s changed them since I was last here. The black comforter remains, like a shadow draped over sheets that gleam like midnight waves under moonlight.
You’d never expect a pirate’s bed to be this neat, but captains always live a bit more lavishly than the rest of the crew. He even added extra pillows. The bed is massive, more than enough space between us, if we wanted it. Secretly, I don’t, even with how livid he made me earlier.
The rest of the room is cluttered in a way that feels intentional, like chaos with a system only he understands. Maps are pinned to the walls with knives. A carved pirate ship figure sits on a shelf, and small treasures lay scattered throughout the space. His clothes hang here and there, not many, but enough. I sit at the edge of the bed, letting the silk brush against my fingertips,and stare out at the sea through the tall windows. Just looking at her calms me, like she’s whispering that I’m home.
There’s always been a pull, an unspoken tether between me and the water, one that runs deeper than blood or bone. When I’m near the ocean, I feel understood and protected.
I hear the door creak open and turn to see averyexposed Kai Eldoris. He’s soaking wet. Shirtless. Only a towel slung low around his hips. Water trickles down the sharp V lines of his torso, every muscle sculpted and sun-warmed. Tattoos cover him, ink swirling up his arms, across his chest, and all the way to his neck. His stomach is dominated by the image of the monstrous Kraken, its tentacles entwined with swords. Every inch of him tells a story through ink—none of them featuring sirens. Just a single mermaid, inked along the curve of his arm. I’ve heard whispers about how he became the Pirate Lord, how he’s survived battles with sea beasts most wouldn’t live to speak of. Especially the Kraken.
His shoulder-length dark brown hair drips from his bath, glistening in the low light. The scent of sea salt and tobacco curls in the air, subtle, unmistakable, and far too distracting. He glances at me, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Enjoying the view, Mira?”
I snap out of it and turn quickly back toward the windows. “Don’t get too cocky, Kai,” I say, keeping my voice flat despite the flush creeping up my neck. Still, I can’t help stealing one more glance. He says nothing, just turns away and pulls a shirt over his head. I hate how disappointed I feel.
“So,” he says after a beat, tone casual, “what do you think of where you’ll be living for the foreseeable future?”
I turn fully toward him, still seated on the bed. “It’s… cozy. The windows are my favorite part.”
