The Pirate King's Stolen Tide

The net tightened before I woke. Rope bit into 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 that again, and I'll pin your hand."

Soren pulled the blade free and crouched. As he cut the rope from my ribs, his knuckles skimmed wet skin and lingered one breath too long.

"Not kindness, little mermaid," he murmured. "Damaged treasure doesn't sell well."

"Try to sell me," I said, "and I'll sink this ship."

His eyes brightened. "There you are."

Soren studied me. "A collector would buy me another ship. A mermaid who sings to currents 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."

Within a 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.