Page 97 of Of the Stars and Sea

Grayson carves a piece of meat from the ham and sets it onto my plate. My mouth waters. We’ve been living on plain porridge and potatoes for a few days now. Since we don’t know where the journey ahead will take us, Grayson has placed restrictions on what food the cook serves to ensure we have enough rations to get us back from the Solise Mountains.

Tonight is the first time I’ve felt the claw of hunger the moment I walked in the door and saw the special spread he had waiting for me.

I make a mental note to stow some slices of ham away for Tommy to enjoy later. He’s been working hard with Collin on the main deck, learning his new crewing responsibilities in-between helping the cook prepare meals.

Grayson fills his own plate then sits back down. I watch his throat work as he takes a sip of the whiskey from his tumbler.His lips glisten from the moisture of his drink as he sets the glass back down and smiles. “I wouldn’t pay heed to Zaos’s remark. His thirst for violence runs deep, it’s true. But he would never dare go against my word.”

“Are you sure about that?” I arch a brow at him. “Hiswords would suggest he’s not as faithful to your ruling as you would like to believe. Can you really trust that he won’t lose control?”

Grayson’s chuckle is raspy. “It’s always about control with you, isn’t it, Little Pearl?”

I sit back in my chair with a little too much force and the wood hits a notch in my spine, making me wince.

Grayson always has a way of seeing too much. There are times when I’m thankful for it. And times—like tonight—when I wish he would look somewhere else.

I pick up the silver knife to my left and spin it around the palm of my hand, feeling that subtle annoyance bloom. The conversation with Zaos left me feeling raw and exposed. It is one thing for Grayson to know the darkest parts of me. The mistakes I wish I could make right. It is another thing entirely to know that Zaos—of all people—has knowledge about my past and is judging me for it.

When I catch the hilt of the knife, I look up at Grayson. His lips are quirked upward, giving him a mischievous look. “Control has gotten me this far,” I whisper, running the edge of my fingernail over the silver metal. “It has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

A muscle in his jaw flickers. “I know what you’re thinking, Little Pearl.” His voice is low. “I would advise against it.”

He’s right. So many of my decisions have been borne from a desire for control—a need for things to go a certain way, because there has been much of my life that has been out of my control.

But when I am around him . . .

I feel different.

There is a safety to the chaos that thrums in my blood when he is near.

And that chaos sparks to life as I gaze down at the knife in my hand. Seeing the distorted image of my reflection reminds me of all the mistakes I have made that landed me here, in this very moment. The fire burns brighter as I raise my arm and move to throw the knife at the wall just above Grayson’s head.

But as I bring my arm back, Grayson moves first. Releasing his dagger from the bandolier over his chest with such preternatural swiftness, I hardly see it fly through the air before it catches the soft fabric of my laced tunic, pinning my raised arm to the wooden back of the chair behind me.

“Bastard!” I seethe, glaring at him.

The blade of his dagger is cool against my wrist as I watch Grayson rise from his seat once more and stalk toward me. His footsteps are heavy against the floor. When he stands next to me, I shoot him a withering look.

Slipping his fingers beneath my chin, he tilts my head back further as he lowers his face to mine. Our lips are a hairsbreadth apart when he whispers, “Always so violent, Little Pearl.” His kiss is tender and soft and over much too soon as he pulls away and runs the back of his hand up the length of my pinned arm.

“I think I enjoy seeing you like this very much.”

“Pinned down? Out of control?” I whisper, rolling my eyes, trying hard not to look like I enjoy the feeling of his touch.

“At my mercy,” he purrs. “And unable to get away.” Embers of desire flame to life as he grazes his teeth along my jawline. I let my eyes close and my head fall back as he takes his other hand beneath my tunic. Quick breaths escape between my lips as his fingers run small circles over my stomach, then move upward to trace the bottom outline of my breasts.

A moan works its way up my throat as I push my chest forward, desperate for those deft fingers to move upward just a little more.

But the touch never comes as Grayson pulls his dagger from the wooden back of my chair. My eyes fly open when he retreats his hand from beneath my tunic and I watch him rise to his full height, casting shadows over me from the lantern light behind him.

I sneer. “You’re cruel.”

Grayson’s chuckle is rough and warm as he sheaths his dagger and saunters back to his seat. “A little preview for what will happen tonight should you behave yourself.”

I scoff.

“In the meantime, there are important matters for us to discuss.”

My arm tingles from it being suspended above my head for too long. Rolling the torn sleeve to my elbow, I rub some life back into my arm and give Grayson a pointed look. “What matters?”

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