Page 41 of Of the Stars and Sea

“What the hells kind of magick is that?” I reach for it again and the glass wavers, spilling cool water over the top of my hand. I grip it firmly and bring it to my greedy mouth. Closing my eyes, I wrap my other hand around it and tilt my head back, draining the entire glass in one go.

Setting it back down on the wet bar, I wipe the moisture from my lips with the back of my hand and hiccup again. “Can I have another one of those?”

Harrick’s bulbous cheeks tighten as he smiles widely. “It made you feel better, didn’t it?” I don’t respond as he takes the empty glass from me. I squint trying to watch him fill it with a large pitcher, but his movements are a hazy blur.

I can’t remember the last time I was this drunk, but Grayson struck some wounded part of me. A part that I wish would have stayed hidden but his cruelty summoned it to the surface, forcing me to inspect it against my will.

“You hate yourself.” His words echo around the empty cavern of my mind, getting louder and louder with each passing breath.

I wish I could tell him his assessment is untrue. That he knows nothing about me. But the moment the words passed between his lips I felt the cold sting of them that only candor can inflict.

“Here you go, dear.” Harrick sets a full glass between my forearms before he moves back down the bar to tend to someone else.

This time, when I reach for it, I notice the sticky mess on my skin. Droplets of ale and whatever other liquors had been served tonight run down the length of my forearm, landing in the rolled-up sleeve of my tunic.

“Great,” I grumble. The white fabric was once striking but after a week at sea and my unwillingness to be parted from my things again for another washing, the shirt is soiled with countless stains, including blood from when I injured my shoulder. I probably look like a beggar who’s spent too many nights sleeping on the streets.

“Hello, pretty.” I look to my left to find a relatively handsome pirate eyeing me up and down like I’m some sort of treat. His skin is a rich tan, making his green eyes stand out like glistening emeralds. He has one hoop earring in his left ear and his blond-streaked brown hair falls just above his shoulders. A chestnut belt strapped around his waist holds a sword on one hip and a pistol on the other. Given the thick forearms that spill out of his white tunic, I imagine he’s strong.

Maybe even strong enough to throw me around for a bit.

I smile at him and pat the stool next to me.

“Pretty is all you’ve got?” The words are thick on my tongue, and as he moves to sit down, he somehow manages to duplicate himself.

Fucking hells.

I don’t know which one of him I should focus on. I make myself dizzy going back and forth between the two. Thankfully, my vision steadies and both of his bodies become one again as he slides onto the stool next to me.

He leans in close, his elbow touching mine as he says, “Why don’t we start over then? Hello,beautiful.”

I snort and roll my eyes, which is a mistake because the room starts to spin again. Nearly spilling the glass of water over, I reach for it and empty it once more.

“So, tell me, what is such a lovely woman doing in a place like this? Surely there’s somewhere else you’d like to be.” Even through the haze of my drunkenness, I know the bastard is trying to butter me up. His striking green eyes haven’t peered at mine once. Instead, they stay settled on my breasts as his tongue darts out between his lips.

There’s a suitable bed mate right in front of me, but my traitorous mind doesn’t see him. Instead, I think of another male not so far from where I sit. I think ofhislips and how my fingers are pained with the desire of wanting to run through his dark silken locks. How I’d relish in running my tongue down the length of his abdomen and?—

No.

Grayson Tyde is horrible and wretched and no good. And he certainly isn’t worthy of my affections. Not when he’s said such vile things. Not when he’s forced me to look at parts of myself I wish would have stayed hidden for all eternity.

Squinting, I try my best to focus on the man next to me and rid my mind of any thoughts of Grayson.

“I’m a pirate,” I say. “Emerald Cove is my home.”

The man smirks. “You are much too pretty to be a pirate.” Then he tilts his head so he can whisper into my ear, “But I’d certainly enjoy showing you what arealpirate is capable of.”

I huff. “And what exactly would that be?”

“Why don’t you come back to my room and I can show you?”

I really take a look at him now, wondering if fucking him will get a certain someone out of my head. It’s been a while since I’ve taken a man to bed, which, come to think of it, is probably why my body has been reacting so wildly to Grayson. I’ve beendeprived of intimacy for too long and maybe this man is the perfect solution to quell the aching lust between my legs.

Peeking over my shoulder, I swallow the dryness in my throat when I see Grayson still has his stormy eyes trained on me. A hawk watching its prey.

Flashes of Grayson flirting with that working woman—Cassandra—flickers across my mind, making my stomach coil. He told her he’d consider meeting her tonight, yet he won’t leave my side. Is he planning on taking her to bed in our room? In front of me?

My blood boils at the thought.

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