The Pirate King's Stolen Tide

The net tightened before I woke. Rope bit my scales as sailors dragged me from warm water onto a sunlit deck.

Their captain stood at the center, too relaxed for a pirate: black hair, an open white shirt, amused blue-gray eyes.

"Well," he said. "I asked for supper. They brought me a fortune."

Captain Soren Vale. The Pirate King.

A deckhand reached for my scales. "One won't matter."

Soren's knife pinned his sleeve to the deck. "I don't remember giving permission." His smile stayed lazy. "Try again, and I pin the hand."

Soren pulled the blade free and crouched. Cutting the rope from my ribs, his knuckles slid across wet skin and lingered one breath too long.

"Not kindness, little mermaid," he murmured. "Damaged treasures sell badly."

"Try to sell me," I said, "and I will drown this ship."

His eyes brightened. "There you are."

Soren considered me. "A collector would buy me a ship. A current-singing mermaid may be worth more alive." His gaze settled on my mouth, and the smile at his scarred lip deepened. "Or I keep you until I learn which stories about mermaids are true."

"You're mad."

"Frequently." He rose. "Put her in my cabin. Fill the bath with seawater."

In one minute, the Pirate King had threatened a man for touching me, named my price, and ordered me into his cabin. His smile said my next move might be worth more than my scales.