Page 70 of A Storm in Every Heart
I’m outnumbered ten to one, probably about to die for a woman who barely knows I exist.
That damned siren curse.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glint of steel hurtling toward me. My heart races as I realize I had let my guard down for just a split second. Time seems to stretch as the knife arcs through the air, its sharp edge gleaming in the setting sun. I can almost feel the cold metal as it zeroes in on my cheek, and my mind screams at me to move, but my body refuses to respond.
Without really thinking about it, I reach for the ocean.
Magic sizzles across my skin, and the ship lurches, knocking the knife off course. A fraction of a second later, a wall of waterrises beside the ship and erupts over its side—impossibly high, impossibly fast—drowning portholes and severing rigging lines as it falls onto us all.
Men scream and clutch at ropes, while others are swept into the rolling dark below. Even those who keep their grip are battered senseless by gallons upon gallons of icy seawater slamming down onto their backs.
In under ten seconds, half the pirates are gone, and as the wave recedes the world settles back into clarity again. I’m left standing alone, gasping for air.
Fuck me.
I could have just died ten times over, but still all I can think about is finding Odessa.
Without knowing why, I lift my gaze and my breath constricts.
As if I summoned her, Odessa stands poised at the far end of the ship, just inside the doorway to the lower deck. Her eyes lock onto mine across the ruined deck, and that instant sends an electric current through my entire body.
She’s alive and looks unharmed, and now finally I can breathe again.
I take one lurching step toward her, but that’s as far as I get before I hear a strange rhythmic cracking, and turn instinctively toward the sound.
A lone figure is walking toward me down the center of the soaking wet deck.
I shake my head, dazed, and it takes a long moment for me to connect the clapping sound to the man in front of me, and even longer to realize that he’sapplauding.
As soon as our eyes meet, the man’s face lights up in a wide grin, and he claps more enthusiastically. “Bloody well done, sir,” he calls. “I always appreciate an impressive battle, even if it is at the expense of my crew.”
My brow furrows.What the fuck is going on?
“Who are you?” I demand, hand flying to the hilt of my sword.
The man stops several yards from me and makes a sweeping bow, his electric blue eyes flashing with genuine humor. “Captain James Connell at your service. I won’t ask if you’ve heard of me. I don’t think I could stomach the rejection if you haven’t.”
“I haven’t,” I growl.
He brings his hands to his chest as if stabbed in the heart. “Gut wrenching. Nevertheless, one must carry on, right?”
I shake my head, still feeling dazed.
The strange man—Captain James Connell—is clearly deranged. He’s dressed slightly better than the crew I just slaughtered, but still looks like a pirate with salt-stained trousers and an oversized jacket over a scarred, bare chest. Beyond that, the man ispretty, which isn’t an adjective I can recall ever using to describe another man. He’s obviously human, and has the same strange allure that Alix does—the beauty that comes with being slightly unusual.
The man is smiling widely and seems entirely unbothered by this bizarre exchange. If he’s really the captain of this ship, then I’ve just killed most of his crew. Yet, he doesn’t seem to care. He must be out of his mind, but that won’t stop me from killing him.
I reach for my sword again and he mirrors me. “I assume you’ve come in search of the Lady Odessa. That, I can understand. I wondered when we got the contract, you know? Why would anyone go to so much sodding trouble over one woman? But then, ‘course I saw her and it all made sense.”
I bite back a growl. “Are you fucking done?”
Still smiling, Captain Connell draws a curved saber from his belt and points it at my chest. “Right, sorry, got carried away.Shall we fight for her, then? You strike me as someone who only fights when you mean it.”
“Funny, you strike me as someone who’s about to die.”
He rolls his wrist as if testing the balance of the blade, then levels it again between us. “I hope you’re right.”
Before I can process what he said, he lunges forward with a lazy, half-hearted swing of his sword, and I raise my own blade to clash with his in a metallic clang. Our swords meet in midair, and I step back to brace myself, feeling the force of his strike reverberate through my arm. Quickly, I regain my footing and drive my sword forward, catching him off balance and sending him stumbling backward. Connell recovers and drives me backwards toward the center of the ship.
