Page 30 of Of the Stars and Sea

He holds up a hand, giving me a pointed look that clearly says,Let’s not waste time playing games, Rowenya. We’ve got good food to eat.

I sigh, biting my tongue.

“You didn’tactuallythink I would take a stranger onto my ship,” he proceeds, eyeing me in the way predator does prey, “allow them to maintain their hold over averyimportant artifact, and let them be free of shackles without knowing a little something about them?”

My blood runs cold. No one—not even Amara and Wells—knows about my mother and the blood that runs through her veins.Myveins.

Grayson clicks his tongue at me and the coldness I felt just a moment ago turns to fire.

Setting his goblet down, he rises from his seat, the chair scraping against the wooden floor as he moves toward the center of the table and grabs a long knife.

My hands immediately move to my hips and I feel my eyes grow wide, realizing I didn’t put my weapons belt back on before I left my room. Aside from the cutlery on the table, I have nothing to use against Grayson, should he decide to use me as his entertainment for the night.

Watching him carefully, I quietly release a sigh of relief as he digs the knife into the chicken and starts cutting away chunks of meat.

“What was it like being raised with a silver spoon in your mouth? To not have to wonder where your next meal came from? To not have to fight for survival?” When I don’t respond, he chuckles quietly to himself. “I wonder what your crew might think of you knowing you aren’t one of them—not truly.”

“You know nothing about my life. Of the things I’ve suffered.” Reaching for the silver knife next to my plate, I carefully pull it away and tuck it underneath the table.

Grayson stops cutting the chicken and glances at me sidelong. Then he snorts with amusement. “There won’t be any blood spilt here tonight, Little Pearl.”

“If you keep speaking of things you know nothing about, blood certainlywillbe spilled.Yourblood.” My grip on the knife tightens.

He sets the carving knife down and slips his hands into his pockets before turning his full attention on me. That’s when I notice everything about his dress is different tonight. Instead of his light linen trousers meant to combat the heat of the sun while on deck, his pants are a black leather that hug every curved muscle of his legs. A leather string fastens the crotch area ina zig-zag pattern that matches the one on his tunic and I find myself blushing the moment my eyes trace over it.

Fucking hells. Even in the midst of my utter disdain for him, my body still reacts to the unholy maleness he exudes.

“It would be a delight to see you unleash yourself upon me. Promise that I might have the pleasure of it someday?” The bastard has the audacity to wink at me and I do the only reasonable thing a woman in my position would do.

I throw the dinner knife right at his face.

With grace that only a true predator is capable of possessing, Grayson shifts to the side just in time, watching as the knife buries itself into the lacquered wooden wall behind him. The handle vibrates side to side for a few moments before Grayson slowly turns his head to look back at me.

A feral grin splits his face and I fear I may have awoken a monster. With what little fire I have left, I raise my chin in defiance of him, readying myself for whatever he has planned for me.

“So she shows her teeth after all.” His eyebrows raise slightly and I harness the snarl that wants to rip from my throat.

“What the hells are you talking about?” I glower at him.

“I’ve seen it.” He waves his hand around. “Glimmers here and there of your potential for greatness.”

I snort. “Throwing a knife at your face and missing is agreatthing? Maybe I should give it another try.”

Ignoring my retort, he continues, “I’m sure you’re an excellent fighter, Rowenya. Even while injured, you possess a great ability to take down a foe. But there always seems to be something that holds you back. I saw it on the quarterdeck with Zaos.”

Grayson moves closer to my end of the table. “You wanted to kill him right then. I saw it in your eyes. But you stopped yourself.” His head tilts. “Why?”

I hate the way he’s looking at me. Like I am some puzzle to be studied as he tries to find a way to piece me together—to make me whole. I might have been whole once, but that was a time too long ago to recall. Whisps of distant memories that I reach for, but the mere wave of my hand scatters them to nothing.

Grayson speaks of things I have not allowed myself to name. Things I wish to keep hidden under the cover of darkness.

“I tire of this conversation,” I mutter plainly, keeping my voice as level as I can despite the shaking of my hands beneath the table.

Grayson keeps his eyes fixed on me. I see them narrow to slits like his scrutiny might reveal some truth I desire to remain behind a locked door in my mind. A slight opening peels his lips apart and I think he’s about to taunt me again, but instead he pushes off the table and goes back to carving the chicken.

Once he’s placed several pieces onto my plate and filled his own, he sits back down at the other end of the table, and I am thankful for it. Maybe I can get through the rest of this despicable dinner without him pushing more of my buttons.

Grayson slices through a cut of the meat and raises his fork to his lips. My tongue darts out between my own as I wet them. My mind betrays me again as it wanders to thoughts of his mouth moving over certain parts of me. He pulls the meat off the fork, flashing his white canines before his jaw starts to work.

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