POV: Beth
The sea glimmers like scattered coins beneath noon sun. Calm, almost gentle. It feels wrong. After storms and sirens, peace feels like a trap.
Alaric stands at helm bare-armed, wind dragging hair back. He looks carved from fire and salt—smug, steady, maddening. I avoid looking too long. Something in my stomach reacts when I do, a flutter I hate deeply.
Riva whistles sharp from lookout. “Ship sighted! Painted crimson!”
Kaine curses low. “Only one madwoman paints her hull like spilled blood.”
Alaric stiffens—a rare tell.
“Mira,” he says.
My pulse kicks. I’ve heard her name whispered among crew—like a legend, or a warning. The Red Siren. Pirate of seduction and knives. Rumor says she once slit a man’s throat during a kiss and laughed while he bled out.
My palms sweat.
A red-sailed ship cuts across water, sleek as shark. As it draws close, I smell perfume so strong it fights salt. Crew of women line rails, beautiful and armed, eyes sharp like polished blades.
Then I see her.
Mira stands at prow like sea-born royalty. Tall. Hair the color of wine and violence cascading down bare shoulders. Leather corset hugging curves made to ruin men. She smiles slow when she spots Alaric.
Not warm.
Possessive.
“Stormborne!” she calls across waves. “I thought you drowned, love.”
Love. My stomach twists.
Alaric only smirks. “Disappointed to see me alive?”
She laughs—rich, dark. “Never. I do so enjoy when dead things crawl back.”
A plank bridges the gap between ships. She walks across as though riding wind itself. When she steps onto our deck, silence spreads. Even Bram looks nervous.
She circles Alaric like predator. “You vanish years. No word. No body. Yet here you stand—stealing ships, recruiting half-men.” Her gaze slips to me. “And charity cases, it seems.”
Her eyes rake me up and down—lingering on torn sleeves, salt-tangled hair, rope burns across palms. Heat climbs my face.
Beth of England would have curtsied.
Beth of sea stands stiff, fighting urge to shrink.
Alaric leans casually against rail. “Mira, you still dramatic as ever.”
“And you still reckless,” she says, fingers grazing his jaw. Intimate. Familiar.
My chest tightens painfully—ridiculous. I hate him, I remind myself. He’s cruel. Careless. Monster in man’s skin.
Yet watching her touch him burns worse than rope.
He doesn’t push her away.
Mira’s eyes slide back to me. “And who is this? Your newest toy?”
“I’m not his anything,” I snap, too quick.
Amusement glints sharp in Mira’s gaze. “Pretty. Fierce. Fragile.” She circles me slowly. “Tell me, girl—does he make you believe you matter?”
I swallow. Hard.
Kaine and Riva watch like it’s entertainment. Crew whisper. Heat prickles my neck. Mira smells of roses and blood. I smell of sweat and fear.
She leans close enough her breath warms my ear. “He likes to break his toys. One day he’ll discard you too.”
I force myself not to step back. “I’m not afraid of you.”
She smiles—pitying. Cruel. “You should be. I tear apart girls who stand in my place.”
Place.
A claim.
Something cold clutches my stomach.
Alaric finally moves, stepping between us, hand raised as if calming beasts.
“Mira, stop terrorizing my crew.”
She laughs softly. “Crew? Or pet?” She eyes me again. “Why her, Alaric? You used to choose killers, not trembling children.”
“I didn’t choose her,” he replies lazily. “She chose trouble and I happened to be nearest.”
It stings—because it’s half true.
Mira leans against him, fingers tracing tattoo on his arm. “Come with me. My ship sails faster. My crew stronger. I can give you everything you lost.”
Her voice melts into honey. It’s impossible not to feel small beside her—beautiful, deadly, magnetic.
He tilts his head. “Tempting.”
My gut twists.
Mira smiles triumphant. “You were always mine.”
He doesn’t deny it.
My heart drops like anchor.
He only looks at her with amused interest—same look he gives storms.
Something ugly rises in me—jealousy. Poisonous. Hot. I hate it. Hate myself for feeling it. He’s nothing to me. Nothing. And yet—
Mira brushes her lips near his cheek. A ghost of a kiss. Intimate.
I look away too late. She sees the reaction. Of course she does.
Predators smell weakness.
She turns to me fully, voice honey-laced arsenic. “You think you can compete with me, little bride?” Her hand touches my jaw lightly. “You’re not made for this world. You’ll shatter, and he’ll come crawling back.”
“I won’t break,” I manage, voice thin.
She smiles, satisfied. “We shall see.”
She steps back, gathering her cloak. “When you tire of babysitting, Alaric, the sea knows where to find me.” She leans to my ear, whisper soft enough only I hear:
“When you drown—I will wear your bones as jewelry.”
A shiver slices down spine.
She walks back across plank, crew following like red shadows. Her ship turns slowly, cutting water like knife. As distance grows, her voice carries one last time:
“Be careful, girl. Stormborne ruins women—beautifully.”
The plank is pulled away. Silence thickens behind her like storm left unshed.
Kaine exhales. “Well. That was pleasant.”
Riva mutters, “I’d rather fight sharks bare-handed.”
Alaric watches the red sail vanish. Something unreadable flickers in his eyes—regret? Nostalgia? Lust? None sit well with me.
He finally turns toward me.
“Well?” he asks, tone light but eyes too sharp. “Still think pirates are romantic heroes?”
My throat tightens. “I never thought so. And she threatened to wear my bones.”
He grins. “She meant it. Good motivation to survive.”
Heat flares in my chest—humiliation, anger, jealousy I refuse to name.
I walk away before I say something weak.
Behind me, laughter rises—careless and cruel.
But Mira’s whisper remains like thorn under skin.
When you drown…
I touch the hidden pirate mark on my wrist.
“I’ll never drown,” I promise the tide.
Even if I have to become something monstrous to stay afloat.