Mira
Chapter ten
Moonlit Promises
When we return to the ship, the crew is scattered across the deck and cabins, some finishing supper, others already asleep, and the rest lost in the rhythm of their usual tasks.
Before we left, Kai made himself clear: no bloodshed, and no one dead by the time we returned.
Shockingly, they listened. Not a single brawl or scratch.
Most have already turned in for the night, resting for whatever storms tomorrow might bring.
The ones still awake pass around bottles of rum, their laughter rolling across the deck like low thunder.
They swap stories like old friends, their walls lowered for once.
Some of them even seem to get along better than I expected, a rare and welcome change.
With the road ahead long and uncertain, that thin thread of camaraderie might be the only thing that keeps us from unraveling.
I head straight for the captain’s quarters.
Kai cleared space for some of my things, not that I had much.
Life at sea teaches you to travel light.
A few shirts, worn-in pants, a couple of corsets, a skirt or two.
Nothing fancy. I own more weapons than I do clothing.
What will take up space are my parents’ belongings, the ones I salvaged from The Siren.
Their journals, especially, need to be hidden somewhere safe.
I want to be the first to read them. Deep in my bones, I know the answers are there.
Pirates always have secrets. My parents had more than most.
After unpacking what little I brought, I let myself take in the room for the second time.
The large bed sits beneath tall windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, framing the sea in glass.
The sheets catch my eye. He’s changed them since I was last here.
The black comforter remains, like a shadow draped over sheets that gleam like midnight waves under moonlight.
You’d never expect a pirate’s bed to be this neat, but captains always live a bit more lavishly than the rest of the crew. He even added extra pillows. The bed is massive, more than enough space between us, if we wanted it. Secretly, I don’t, even with how livid he made me earlier.
The rest of the room is cluttered in a way that feels intentional, like chaos with a system only he understands.
Maps are pinned to the walls with knives.
A carved pirate ship figure sits on a shelf, and small treasures lay scattered throughout the space.
His clothes hang here and there, not many, but enough.
I sit at the edge of the bed, letting the silk brush against my fingertips, and stare out at the sea through the tall windows.
Just looking at her calms me, like she’s whispering that I’m home.
There’s always been a pull, an unspoken tether between me and the water, one that runs deeper than blood or bone. When I’m near the ocean, I feel understood and protected.
I hear the door creak open and turn to see a very exposed Kai Eldoris.
He’s soaking wet. Shirtless. Only a towel slung low around his hips.
Water trickles down the sharp V lines of his torso, every muscle sculpted and sun-warmed.
Tattoos cover him, ink swirling up his arms, across his chest, and all the way to his neck.
His stomach is dominated by the image of the monstrous Kraken, its tentacles entwined with swords.
Every inch of him tells a story through ink—none of them featuring sirens.
Just a single mermaid, inked along the curve of his arm.
I’ve heard whispers about how he became the Pirate Lord, how he’s survived battles with sea beasts most wouldn’t live to speak of. Especially the Kraken.
His shoulder-length dark brown hair drips from his bath, glistening in the low light. The scent of sea salt and tobacco curls in the air, subtle, unmistakable, and far too distracting. He glances at me, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Enjoying the view, Mira?”
I snap out of it and turn quickly back toward the windows. “Don’t get too cocky, Kai,” I say, keeping my voice flat despite the flush creeping up my neck. Still, I can’t help stealing one more glance. He says nothing, just turns away and pulls a shirt over his head. I hate how disappointed I feel.
“So,” he says after a beat, tone casual, “what do you think of where you’ll be living for the foreseeable future?”
I turn fully toward him, still seated on the bed. “It’s… cozy. The windows are my favorite part.”
Kai steps closer, his eyes drifting toward the horizon. “Best part of the room,” he murmurs. “The sunrises here are worth waking up early for.”
I fall quiet. For a moment, it almost feels easy, talking to him like this, like we’re something close to normal.
But then his eyes find mine. Hazel and steady, too knowing.
The kind of look that pulls the air right out of your lungs.
My pulse stumbles. He doesn’t look away, and I hate that I don’t either.
Whatever this is between us, it’s coiled tight, waiting.
And now, living under the same roof, I’ll have to face it, whether I’m ready or not.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” he says, his voice threaded with a sincerity I’m not expecting. I keep my stare. His eyes have softened.
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply, more defensively than I mean to. “I shouldn’t have any feelings about you bedding others.”
“It does matter, Mira.” His voice is steady.
“I wanted to give you space with Neressa, but I see now, I should’ve been sitting right next to you.
” I hold his gaze, narrowing my eyes, trying to get a read on him.
A man like Kai has surely mastered every expression, every calculated tilt of the mouth, every well-timed flicker of softness in his stare.
Pirate tricks. But this doesn’t feel rehearsed.
“You should have been,” I say quietly.
He steps closer. Reaches out. A strand of hair has fallen loose, and he tucks it carefully behind my ear. The touch is light, almost hesitant. Worry surges through me at how easily I allow it, how gentle it feels. “And for that,” he murmurs, voice low, “I’m sorry.”
His hazel eyes burn with flickers of green, gold, and brown, catching in the lantern glow. As furious as I am, his stare is its own kind of temptation, familiar, magnetic, impossible to ignore.
“I promise I’ll always be right there for you,” he says. His words send goosebumps rising down my arms.
“I’ll hold you to it,” I murmur, letting the ghost of a smile tug at my lips. “I have a question.”
His eyes flick up, curiosity sparking like flame. “Yes, treasure?” He moves closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, not too near, not too far. Just close enough that if he wanted to reach out, he could. And gods, I know he’s aware of that.
“Your tattoos,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “they’re symbols of what you’ve defeated, right?” I know this because humans who possess magic don’t choose their markings, they’re chosen for them. A blessing and a curse, really. The magic decides what stays etched into your skin forever.
“Yes.” His tone is steady, proud, carrying the weight of every victory.
“You’ve slaughtered a mermaid?” My hand drifts toward the inked figure of a mermaid curled along his arm, her tail coiling in soft, dark waves. My fingers hover, not daring to touch.
His eyes widen. “I would never hurt a mermaid,” he says, voice low but certain.
“This one, she saved my life.” The words hit harder than I expect.
I pull back, curling into myself before I can stop it.
If he means what I think he does, then they’re bound, connected by something deeper.
A bond not easily broken. Sometimes, not knowing is better.
“Not all tattoos appear on their own,” Kai continues, eyes shifting to the ink across his chest. “Some I chose. Some chose me.”
“Interesting.” My eyes break from his stare, drawn to the moonlit sea beyond the windows. Silver light ripples across the waves, catching like glass. “And what of a siren? Didn’t you get attacked by one when you were young? Where’s the tattoo for that?”
“I’ve never killed a siren,” he says. His voice is steady. “If I did, I wouldn’t want those dark creatures inked onto my skin.”
I turn back to face him, shifting until I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed. The boards creak beneath me. “I don’t know why, but I’ve never felt fear or anger toward sirens,” I say.
“How could you not hate them? They took your father from you.” His words aren’t meant to wound, but they land deep all the same.
“Yes, they did.” My voice softens. “They’ve never personally attacked me.
” His eyes search mine, quiet but unrelenting, as if he’s trying to peel back every layer I keep hidden.
I draw a slow breath, steadying myself before I continue.
“When I was younger, maybe five years old, I was sitting on a dock in Magda, my feet dangling just above the water while my parents made deals with the merchants. The water was crystal clear that day… until I saw a razor-sharp fin slice through the surface.”
I stop for a moment, realizing I’m saying too much. The air feels heavier for it. “Continue,” he says, his voice gentle. Heat crawls up my neck at the softness in his tone.
“I quickly pulled my legs onto the dock and watched the water. A siren rose. But what was odd was the water wasn’t black.
She reached up and touched my face with webbed fingers.
Her eyes—shaped like almonds and filled with stars, stared straight into my soul, like she was trying to read me.
She was terrifyingly beautiful. I knew, even at that young age, she wasn’t trying to hurt me. ”
“She didn’t hurt you? At all?”
“No.” My voice lowers to a whisper. “It felt like she just wanted to see if I was okay. Once she felt comfortable, she disappeared back into the ocean. Ever since then, during every battle, whenever sirens showed up, I’ve never been lured by them.”
“That’s because you’re a woman. Only men answer to their songs,” he says, so sure of himself it almost makes me laugh. I do anyway, a small, sharp sound.
“Do you really believe that myth?”
“It’s not a myth.” His face is perfectly innocent, which only makes it worse.
“It is,” I counter, tilting my head. “They can lure anyone they want. It doesn’t matter if you’re a woman or not.”
He shrugs, smug as ever. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it with my own eyes.”
I shove him lightly, grinning. “So, I know something about the sea that the great Pirate Lord doesn’t? Maybe I should be crowned lord, then.”
He lets out the smallest laugh, a low, rough sound I wish I could trap in a bottle just to hear again when the world goes quiet. I hate that I love it so much. “It’d take a hell of a lot more than knowing one little fact to earn that title, treasure,” he says, smirking.
I smile, meeting his gaze. For a heartbeat, it feels like we’ve met before, like some old part of me recognizes him. “Anyway,” I say softly, “I don’t feel fear around sirens. Maybe they’re just misunderstood creatures.”
“I’ve seen firsthand what they’re capable of,” he says. “I’m lucky to still be alive. They’re vile things, creatures that crave blood and souls. Men’s and women’s, I assume.”
I know he adds that last part to soften the blow. “Well,” I murmur, a hint of a smile curving my lips, “we can agree to disagree.” My eyelids grow heavy, but I can still feel his gaze on me, steady, unyielding, warm enough to make me forget what we’re talking about.
I turn away, slipping beneath the covers. The satin sheets are cool and comforting against my skin. I wear only my undergarments and the oversized, sun-bleached, long-sleeved shirt I always use during long days at sea. Tonight, it feels like armor of a different kind.
I choose the side of the bed closest to the window, drawn to the lull of the waves and the way the moonlight dances across the surface of the water.
Resting my head against the cool satin pillow, I let the ocean soothe me.
Kai doesn’t say another word, but I feel him near, still and watchful.
As the waves whisper against the hull, I let the ocean pull me under and pray he isn’t the storm that follows.