POV: Beth
The storm had passed hours ago, but inside me everything still churned like waves refusing to settle. The ship creaked beneath my boots, lantern swinging above, light slicing across the deck in gold arcs. The sea glittered black as spilled ink. The crew slept below—drunk, exhausted—leaving only the night, the salt, and the one man I wished I could throw into the ocean.
Alaric.
He leaned at the bow, staring at the horizon like he was daring it to move. Wind tangled his dark hair, moonlight catching the scar over his jaw. I hated how effortlessly powerful he looked—like the sea itself carved him.
Every time I tried to ignore him, my eyes betrayed me.
My footsteps betrayed me too, carrying me forward until I stood a few paces behind him. I didn’t call his name. But he spoke anyway, sensing me the way storms sense ships.
“Didn’t know you were awake, princess.”
An insult. Always.
“I’m not your princess.”
He turned slowly, smirk forming—a blade disguised as a smile. “Yet here you are… always orbiting.”
“I only came to breathe real air, not that rum–infested dungeon below.”
Alaric pushed off the railing and walked toward me, each step unhurried, predatory. “Careful. If you insult their rum, they’ll throw you to sharks.”
“If you insult me one more time, I might throw you to sharks,” I snapped.
“Oh?” He laughed once under his breath. “You’re welcome to try.”
He closed the remaining distance, stopping barely a foot away. Too close. Heat radiated off him like fire after storm. My pulse thundered, but my chin rose—pride refusing to bow.
“You think you know everything,” I hissed. “You think you’re untouchable, but you’re just a broken man who lost his throne and hides behind cruelty.”
His jaw clenched. A flash of something darkened his eyes—hurt or rage, I couldn’t tell. “And you think you’re innocent?” he shot back. “You’ve killed. You spilled blood. You enjoyed it.”
“I defended myself,” I fired back. “And I won’t apologize for surviving.”
“You liked the power.” His voice lowered, dangerous. “I saw it in your eyes.”
My breath hitched. Because he was right. And it terrified me.
Anger rose as shield. “At least I’m trying to be more than some pirate monster—”
He stepped forward abruptly.
I stepped back.
Again.
Until my back hit the mast.
Trapped.
His hands caged the wood near my head, not touching me but close enough that heat pressed like a brand. His voice was low thunder.
“And what are you trying to be, Beth? A noble lamb in wolf’s ocean? Or a wolf pretending to bleat?”
“I’m nothing like you.”
He leaned closer. “You will be.”
My breath shook. His face inches from mine, storm-dark eyes fixed on my mouth. My heart slammed against ribs—fear, fury, something electric threading between us. His breath brushed my cheek. So close I could taste rum and salt. His gaze dipped to my lips.
And I hated him for how much my body noticed.
“You think you scare me?” I whispered, voice trembling with everything I refused to confess.
He smiled—slow, wicked. “I think I interest you.”
My palm shot up, shoving his chest. Hard. “You interest nothing but my fist.”
He grabbed my wrist mid-motion, pinning it to the mast. Not cruelly. Easily. Like holding a flame between fingers.
We were breathing in the same air. Sharing it. Consuming it.
“Try hitting me again,” he murmured. “See what happens.”
“Let. Go.”
“No.”
My other hand rose to strike him—he caught that one too. Our bodies close, foreheads nearly touching. Eyes locked. Every nerve screaming.
The world shrank to his breath. His heartbeat. The heat of his skin.
His eyes flicked to my mouth again.
I hated it.
I wanted it.
Slowly, as if against reason, he leaned in. My lips parted without thought. Our breaths collided, mixing, trembling. My heart might have exploded if he closed the remaining inch.
One inch.
Half an inch—
“Captain!” Kaine’s voice split the night like an axe.
We ripped away from each other as if burned. Alaric stepped back fast, face hardened into careless smugness. I looked away, cheeks scorching, pulse mad and unruly.
Kaine stood on the stairs, arms crossed, expression too knowing. “We’ve got a problem below.”
Alaric didn’t look at me again. “Later,” he muttered, voice unreadable.
But I wasn’t sure whether it was promise or threat.
I stood frozen after they left—chest heaving, lips tingling with kiss that never happened. A moment suspended in air like lightning about to strike, then stolen before I understood it.
And I hated that I wanted to know what it would’ve felt like.
I hated that he almost kissed me.
I hated that I almost kissed him back.