Page 17 of A Captain So Callous and Cruel

The word tastes acidic on my tongue. “Bloodthirst.”

His hard expression fades as his eyes narrow on mine. “You certainly talk out of line for a timid whore.”

My heart beats faster as I struggle to look away. I can’t, though. My gaze is pinned to his eyes. He stares at me deeply, like he can pull me apart, and he knows, doesn’t he? He sees my ruse. I should be more frightened than I am. It’s just…I need to see his true self. I need to know that he’s callous and deplorable. That we’re killing him because he’s proud of the destruction he’s left behind.

“Tell you what,” he says next. “You tell me one truth about you right now, Red, and I’ll reward you kindly.”

“With what?” I wondered.

“Anything you want. If it’s safety from my crew, I’ll have you sleep in my quarters. If it’s more food, I’ll deliver a tray of whatever you desire to your room myself. What do you say?”

“I say you’re tricking me.”

Humor flashes in his eyes as his lips curve up on one side. “I’m not.”

“You want me to tell you a truth?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

He takes another bite of his food, chewing it, staring along my face and down my throat. His gaze lingers on my breasts, which are pushed up higher than I’d like. “I can’t figure you out, and I need to.”

“What if you’re wrong and I’m not interesting?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t shake you. My gut is telling me you’re no whore. It’s telling me you’re dangerous, but I can’t pinpoint why. And it’s fucking with my head a little. Because you have to be, honest to fucking Goddess, Red, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.” As if listening to his own words, he shakes his head at himself, eyes widening a little like he can’t believe he’s said that. His face hardens a fraction as his voice tenses. “A truth, Red. Give me one.”

I look away, my brain scrambling to fake a story about myself in Morda. Some sob story that I can hide behind and that he can feign pity at.

Maybe he’s the savior type. But I shake my head to myself.

No, not this man. He is the kind of person that would watch a drowning man flounder until he was on the cusp of his last breath before he even thought of pulling him out.

He would push me to my limits, if given the chance. So no, I don’t want to be a fake pity case. I don’t want to lie at all, actually. Because I sort of want this game to go both ways.

Licking my lips, I pause to take a sip from a glass full of wine by my plate. The taste is rich on my tongue. For a man who hates fanciful things, his booze speaks otherwise. I look down at the glass for a few moments, deciding my words wisely.

Then I think, to hell with it. “When I was a little girl, I watched my sister get killed. She sacrificed her life to make sure I was hidden. I watched her get cut apart like a piece of fish, and I was too much of a coward to help her.”

Clara had visited me during her shift. I had begged to see her. I was ten, and I’d never seen a siren in true form. Sneaking out of my house to meet her at the docks of an old marina, I remember feeling so happy that she was doing this for me. It was a big risk. Sirens weren’t supposed to be near shore at all, but she knew how much it meant to me.

I remember the joy I felt. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. A dazzling sea creature with shimmering red hair, like mine, and a glowing form. She’d come straight up to me on the dock, rested her elbows on the boardwalk and smiled up at me.

“You look like a star,” I beamed.

“It’ll be your turn soon,” she’d said. “Hold tight. Some years yet, Hali, and we’ll be doing this together.”

There were no words to describe my happiness. Life had been hard. Our family had very little. In fact, what we did have we owed to Clara and her work as a seamstress. She held us up.

It’s why I blame myself for her death.

Within minutes of admiring her, dark shadows had fallen over us, and I felt a jolt at the back of my head. The hit was so sudden, everything had gone black. By the time I blinked my eyes awake, men were searching the waters and another was hovering over me, a knife to my throat.

“That fucking siren better show herself,” a deep voice said. “Or we’re going to cut you up, little miss.”

With their words, Clara did.

I had blood running down my face. A hand had been wrapped in my hair, tugging tightly at me by a stinky, filthy man with missing teeth.

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