Chapter 48 - Alaric
Alaric
Skeldrhall, Ymirskald
Nerina looked different here. Brighter. Freer. For once there was no shadow in her eyes, no heaviness bending her shoulders. She glowed in the firelight as she laughed with Eira, cheeks pink from drink, hair tumbling loose while she danced.
Gods, I wanted this for her.
I wanted her to be happy.
I couldn’t give it to her. This warmth. This belonging. A hall full of people who embraced her without question—who lifted her into their arms and called her flame. Who made her feel like she was part of something bigger than herself.
All I could offer was salt and blood and a ship that never stopped running from curses. A life that always smelled like storms and death. A deck that creaked with old sins.
I almost left.
Then—
I saw his hand at the small of her back.
His mouth curved in that stupid grin, murmuring whatever line or jest had her laughing—laughing in a way I hadn’t heard in weeks.
I couldn’t make myself look away—not with my blood running too fast. The reaction hit before thought.
Feral. Immediate. Ugly. I couldn’t let that go. Couldn’t walk away.
I shoved through the crowd before I could stop myself.
The music pounded, boots stomping, voices rising, but the hall seemed to part for me anyway, faces blurring past. Everything became scent and pulse—mead, sweat, smoke, and the bright, maddening thread of her.
I could hear her heartbeat through the drums.
Jealousy wasn’t even the worst of it. It was the certainty that if I didn’t move now, I would lose her.
All I could see was her in his arms and him looking down at her like she was something he’d already claimed.
Not while I still drew breath.
I reached them just as his hand brushed her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Nerina froze. Veyrion’s wolfish grin didn’t falter. He simply looked at me, his hand lingering before he let it fall.
Her eyes found mine. The look on her face—Like she’d been caught. It drove the knife deeper. She knew what it looked like. Veyrion’s hand at her back. Her laughter spilled into his chest. The two of them dressed in red and white like some cruel joke.
“Of course,” he said smoothly, though reluctance edged his tone.
He caught her hand one last time—deliberately—and placed it into mine with mock ceremony. “To be continued.”
He winked at her before melting back into the crowd.
I pulled her against me, grip tightening at her waist. My jaw ached with the effort not to snarl. I loosened a fraction on instinct—then tightened again.
I bent my head toward her ear, words rough, burning. “Enjoying yourself?”
Her silence stoked something raw in me.
“Say something, Nerina. Anything. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t like the way he looks at you.”
Her eyes flared. Her jaw set. “And if I do? If I did like it—what then, Alaric?” Her voice was steel wrapped in fire. “Would you chain me back to your ship? Lock me away from every smile that isn’t yours?”
Defiance shot straight through my veins. I spun her, hard enough that her skirt flared wide. When I drew her back, I didn’t let her stumble—I yanked her into me, chest to chest. The way she stiffened sent a jolt of shame through my ribs. I’d crossed a line. I knew it. I didn’t stop. Couldn't stop.
Control was there—present—but strained, like a rope starting to fray. “I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” The words sounded righteous. My grip said something else.
“Safe?” She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s what you call it? Because it felt a lot more like being kept in the dark.”
Her words struck true—deeper than she knew. My hand pressed firmer at the small of her back. Thinking I could keep her tethered if I held hard enough. “I am trying to protect you.”
This was how it started. This was how men built cages—by calling them protection.
Her gaze snapped to mine, blazing. “You don’t get to decide what I need protecting from.”
The drums thundered. The hall spun. But all I could see was her—glaring up at me like she’d rather set me aflame than stay in my arms. I hauled her into another turn, forcing her into step, my voice a growl at her ear.
“And what about him, Nerina? Do you really think he’ll protect you?
That wolf will devour you the moment you stop burning bright enough to keep his interest.”
Her breath hitched—not with fear. With fury. “Better a wolf who bares his nature,” she hissed, “than one who pretends he’s harmless.”
My grip faltered for a heartbeat—just long enough for her to see she’d struck true. My hands trembled at my sides. I hid it by pulling her back into step, rougher this time, fingers digging into her hip.
Her lips parted, but the fury in her eyes didn’t fade.
If anything, it blazed brighter. Then her crescent mark flared—silver-white and furious—light spilling across her brow like a wound torn open.
The fire leapt in answer. The nearest dancers recoiled.
Gods, it terrified me—because I knew if I pushed any harder, I’d lose her. But if I let go, I already had.
“If it weren’t for Veyrion,” she hissed, “I never would’ve known. About the sanctuary. About the blood on your hands. You would have kept it from me forever.”
I spun her again, more force than finesse, dragging her back into step. My jaw ached from how tightly I clenched it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? Tell me, Alaric—why did you save me that night? Why bring a mermaid aboard a pirate ship if there was no place for her?”
Fire and ice in her eyes. Demanding. Unrelenting.
Saints—I wanted to lie. Wanted to tell her it was because she mattered. Because she’d always mattered. “I was desperate.”
A confession I could never take back. The potion’s edge was already thinning, turning heat into pressure, and it stripped the lie right off my tongue.
My throat burned. “Because when I saw your light—your mark—it matched the quartz I found,” My voice caught. “I thought you could free me from this curse.”
She went rigid in my arms like I’d struck her.
The hall blurred—laughter and music pressing close—but I only saw her.
The way her eyes widened, full of disbelief.
The way her lips parted without sound. The way her breath hitched.
Saints. The look she gave me—like I’d broken something fragile in her that I could never mend.
I hated myself in that moment. Hated that I’d said it. Hated that it was true. I had dragged her from the sea not out of love, not out of some noble instinct—out of desperation. And somewhere along the way… It had become so much more.
“Nerina.” My voice cracked, low and raw, pitched only for her. “I was selfish. I was drowning in a curse I couldn’t break, and I thought you were my way out. But then—”.
She shook her head, but I saw the conflict there. Saints—she wanted to hate me. She should despise me.
“Nerina—” I opened my mouth—desperate to tell her everything.
“Is there anything about you that wasn’t a lie?” She snapped before she tore herself from my arms.
Whispers followed her retreat like smoke—sharp, curious, cruel.
The space she left was colder than the sea.
The borrowed heat in my veins faltered—and hunger rushed in to fill the gap.
I stood there, stunned, every drumbeat pounding through my chest like a hammer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eira break from a knot of dancers.
Her grin was gone. Brow furrowed, she shoved her way after Nerina, skirts swishing, braid snapping behind her like a banner of war. I felt it—eyes on me.
Veyrion hadn’t gone far. Of course he hadn’t.
He leaned against a carved pillar like a predator waiting for the hunt to begin, watching the whole damn thing with infuriating calm.
His expression was unreadable—but the glint in his eyes told me he’d enjoyed every second.
He pushed off the pillar and crossed the space between us, too steady, his presence carrying the weight of the hall.
He stopped just short of me, red cloak brushing the floor, a faint grin lingering at his mouth.
“I think it’s time you leave,” he said—not raising his voice, because he didn’t need to.
I couldn’t tell if he meant the hall… Or Nerina.
I straightened, grip tightening on my cloak, forcing myself not to bare fangs in the middle of his hall. “You don’t get to tell me when to leave her,” I growled.
“You think I didn’t see her face when she looked at you?” His eyes gleamed—steel in the firelight. “Like she’d just realized what you were. Another chain. Another thief of her power.” His voice dipped, dangerous. “Do you truly want to argue who she trusts less right now?”
I took a step forward, crowd noise roaring in my ears. “I’ve bled for her. Protected her when no one else would. You?” I spat. “You’re only circling because you smell weakness.”
Veyrion didn’t flinch. He leaned in, voice a low rumble. “She is anything but weak. You don’t understand her nearly as well as you think.”
“And you do?” I hissed.
His smile returned, slow and cutting. “I don’t have to cage her to keep her here.” His eyes flicked—briefly—toward the doorway she’d disappeared through. “You should ask yourself why.”
The words snapped something in me. A snarl tore loose—low and guttural—echoing through the hall.
My fangs bared, glinting in the firelight before I could stop it.
Gasps rippled. Laughter faltered. I felt eyes on us—warriors, elders, children—watching as something feral surfaced beneath my skin.
I wanted blood. Wanted to tear that grin from his face and make him choke on his certainty.
Veyrion didn’t flinch. He only smiled wider, head tilting like he’d been waiting for this.
I almost lunged. The crowd’s eyes held me in place—whispers already spreading. And I knew: if I moved, if I struck him now, I’d lose her for good.
Veyrion stepped back just enough to leave me burning where I stood. There was no surprise in his eyes. Only confirmation.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long damn mile.
The drums thundered. Voices rose again. The space between us was silent.
And though I didn’t back down, I knew one thing with cold certainty—Veyrion and I were already at war.