Kai
Chapter nine
Cinnamon & Steel
Silver is stunning, no doubt. I know that better than most—I’ve had her in my bed and know firsthand every curve of her body.
But for some reason I can’t pay her any attention, not when Mira stands in the room.
Mira is a weapon, a rival I should cut down and be done with.
Instead, I let the pull of her sink its claws in, hating myself for it.
She’s my enemy, yet every part of me strains toward her all the same.
“Silver,” I say evenly, keeping my tone neutral. She giggles, flashing perfect white teeth, ice-blue eyes sparkling like frost under flame. Her long blonde hair swings with every calculated move.
“I love when you say my name,” she purrs. “Couldn’t stay away?” Another laugh, dripping with smug satisfaction. “Don’t be embarrassed, most can’t.” She isn’t wrong. Men line up for a chance with her.
“I’m afraid, I’m here on business, not pleasure,” I say, lowering my voice as I lean closer.
“Don’t waste your time on me. Go find your next target, aye?
” She smiles, then suddenly doubles back and presses her lips to mine.
Uninvited. Fast. I shove her off without hesitation.
And that’s when I see her. Mira. Her eyes are locked on us, her face twisted in something between fury and betrayal.
Fuck.
I grab Silver by both wrists, my grip firm but controlled.
My voice drops, low and lethal. “Whatever game you’re playing, stop.
I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours.
” I lean in just enough for her to feel the warning in my breath.
“Now, like I said, move on. While you still can.” The look in her eyes shifts instantly.
The confidence drains out of her, replaced by dread.
Like she’s just heard a siren’s call echo from the deep and knows, without question, it means death.
She swallows hard, throat bobbing. Still, she manages to gather the shards of her pride.
“I’ll be here when you change your mind,” she says with a menacing little smile, brittle and forced.
It only pisses me off more. I let go of her wrists, surprised she could still speak.
She vanishes into the crowd of drunken pirates, slipping between bodies like smoke.
And I’m left standing here, with Mira’s glare burning a hole in my back and a knot forming in my chest. Getting her to trust me has been hard enough. I have a deal I’ve made and I intend on keeping it. But now I’ve gone and made it worse.
I know Mira is safe with Neressa. I can read it in their body language.
The two of them move like sisters, close and connected.
So, I step outside for a smoke. I light my pipe and lean against the wall, letting the shadows swallow me.
The moonlight stretches across the ocean’s surface, each wave catching the light and scattering it in soft, shimmering ripples.
The sea looks alive, whispering secrets into the night.
If those whispers could speak, the stories they’d tell would be worth more than gold.
I lean against the wall, tucked in the shadows, trying to understand what Mira sees in this place. The night air is quiet, but I don’t miss the sudden shift, the cold kiss of steel pressed to my throat in one swift, silent move. I don’t need to look to know who it is.
“Neressa… you really are as sly as they say,” I mutter, my voice low.
She steps forward, the moonlight peeling across her features like a blade leaving its sheath.
That foggy gaze swirls with something wild and unreadable, like a storm churning just beneath the surface.
Her presence is sharp and dangerous. She smells of cinnamon.
From what I’ve heard, she’s like an orca, predatory and cunning, known for toying with her prey before delivering the final blow.
She presses the blade closer, slicing just enough to draw a thin line of blood.
“Mmm, as sly as a fox, I’ve been told,” she says.
Warm blood trails down my neck, but I stay still.
I could break her hold, pin her in seconds.
But I don’t. I want to know what she’s after.
Her eyes, swirling like sea fog before a storm, watch me without blinking.
“If you harm her, I will gut you first, then I will kill you. I like to play with my prey before I end them. Do I make myself clear?” The blade doesn’t waver. I lean into it, deepening the cut.
“Is that a promise?” I ask, smirking, not out of arrogance, but defiance. She narrows her eyes, trying to read if I’m bluffing. “If I hurt her,” I add, “I’ll end myself. But if you’d prefer to be the one to do it, you’re welcome to try.”
She lowers the blade and steps down from the old wooden chest she’d somehow climbed without making a single creak.
Every movement she makes is catlike, silent, fluid, calculated.
She and Mira are nearly the same height, both small in stature but dangerous in ways most don’t realize until it’s too late.
Neressa reattaches her cutlass to her belt with a practiced motion, and I watch as the storm-dark shade in her eyes fades to a calmer gray, like clouds thinning after a squall.
Still, her gaze stays sharp. “She’s special.
Very special… not just because she’s like a sister to me.
” Her words settle like iron in the air.
So, she knows. She knows everything about what Mira is meant to become. And she’s kept it from her.
Does Neressa have some ulterior motive in keeping this from Mira? Sometimes blood isn’t thicker than water when gold, wishes, and power are in play.
“I know,” I reply, my voice low. Cold.
“I will tear this world apart for her, piece by piece. And you’ll do the same. I hope.” Neressa crosses her arms, her gaze sweeping over me like a predator sizing up a threat. “If her life’s ever in danger, yours ends first. Is that clear?” She holds my stare, unflinching.
“Understood,” I say, humoring her, though deep down, I know I mean it. Let her believe she’s in charge.
Hell, maybe she is. With the stories I’ve heard, I wouldn’t doubt it.
Captain Bleu didn’t just train her to survive, he forged her into a weapon, a living breathing weapon, then found others to sharpen the blade.
Most of them didn’t live long enough to tell the tale.
Some of the mentors she had were close friends of mine.
But now I see why. It was all for Mira. Even though Mira’s more than capable of handling herself, what’s coming for her is beyond any one person.
She’ll need every ounce of strength, every shadow-walker and sword-wielder on her side.
She might even need an army. If Captain Bleu left one legacy worth remembering, it’s this: The women in his life don’t need saving.
But gods help the fools who think they do.
“Great. You can start now.” She pivots toward the front doors of the pub without another glance. A spike of worry stabs through me.
“Where is she?” I ask, voice low, edged with anger.
Neressa turns, meeting my glare without so much as a blink.
“She goes down to the underground to grab some gold. They know better than to touch her, she’ll kill them if they try.
” Her tone holds something dangerously close to pride.
“She’s just as clever as I am, just a little rusty.
That’s why they also know I’ll finish off whoever she doesn’t.
And I’m not nearly as nice.” Her words don’t settle the fire in my chest. Letting her go down there alone? Into a place she’d call unsafe?
My jaw clenches. “Show me where the underground is.”
I follow Neressa down a twisting descent of creaking stairs, the lanterns on the walls casting jagged shadows that dance like ghosts.
With each step, the air grows heavier, damp with secrets and smoke.
At the bottom, we stop at a splintered door, its surface worn and scarred from the memory of a thousand fists. Neressa knocks once, sharp and sure.
A grimy window slides open. Bloodshot eyes peer through. One glance at her. One blink at me, and then the door unlatches with a groan. Inside, the world shifts.
The underground buzzes with danger, a hidden den for gamblers, smugglers, and desperate kings in tattered coats.
Gold clinks like wind chimes. Laughter slithers through the air, low and mean.
Pirates, merchant lords, royals even, and criminals hunch over tables, gripping their coin and their pride with equal desperation.
The moment I step through the doorway, silence ripples like a dropped stone.
Eyes turn. They know me. No one speaks my name, but the weight of it presses into the room like a drawn blade.
I don’t need to announce myself. I am the storm they whisper about in taverns. And every soul in the room feels it.
I scan the room, my gaze sharp, cutting through the haze of smoke and shadows.
Then I see her. Mira sits at a table near the back, her posture relaxed, one hand casually dealing cards while the other cradles a dwindling pile of gold.
Calm. Unbothered. Like this is just another game to her, and maybe it is.
But I know better. She’s always playing for something.
A tightness coils in my chest. “Did I give you a scare?” Neressa’s voice slithers in beside me, all mockery and mischief.
I turn toward her, jaw tight. She looks up at me with a grin sharp enough to cut, eyes full of wicked delight.
“Oops,” she says, tone dripping with sarcasm, a small giggle slipping from her.
Then she strolls toward Mira without a care.
She leans in close, whispering something in Mira’s ear that makes both of them laugh. That sound, her laugh, has a way of melting fury into something far more dangerous. Something tender. And I hate it. Because it’s too easy to lose control when it comes to her.
Mira stands, her eyes locking onto mine from across the room. She walks toward me like the storm she is, graceful, steady, inevitable.
Every man in that bar gives me space, stepping back without needing to be told. They know better. And if any one of them even looks at her the wrong way, I’ll happily remind them why the legends about me are all true.
“Neressa playing tricks on you?” Mira asks, her voice soft, threaded with amusement. There’s a warmth in her tone that wraps around me like something familiar, something I don’t realize I’ve missed until I hear it again. I meet her gaze. Those dark emerald eyes pull me. Beautiful.
“Seems like it,” I mutter, my voice low, edged with steel. “If I hear you’re in even a grain of sand’s worth of danger, I’ll be there.”
A teasing smile ghosts across her lips, eyes flickering with mischief. Then, without a word, she brushes past me, the faintest touch of her shoulder sending a spark straight through me as she heads toward the door. Her scent trails after her, vanilla and sea salt.
I turn to Neressa. Her eyes meet mine, hard as cut glass. No words. Just a silent promise: Hurt her, and I’ll end you. I give a single nod. Nothing more. A gesture of respect… and acknowledgment that I heard her loud and clear.
We step outside the pub. The night air snaps against my skin, cold and sharp, but it is nothing compared to the storm rolling off Mira as she charges ahead of me.
She doesn’t speak. Her silence has weight, heavier than a cannonball.
I know exactly what she’s angry about. The kiss. That damn kiss she saw.
“Mira,” I call, cutting in front of her path.
She doesn’t stop. Just keeps walking like I don’t exist. I grab her arm, not hard, but enough to make her turn.
She resists, but I hold firm. “Listen to me.” Her gaze stays on the ground, locked and distant.
Frustration claws up my throat. “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.”
Mira lets out a sharp breath, a sigh laced with fury. Her eyes roll, slow and intentional, before they finally meet mine, dark, burning, disbelieving.
“You comfort me all night,” she says, her voice low and shaking, “about leaving my ship, my beautiful, magical ship, behind. And then you go and shove your tongue down some whore’s filthy mouth?
” Her voice cracks on the last word, more rage than heartbreak.
Her shoulders tremble slightly, the only crack in her steel armor.
Then, with a slow shake of her head, she exhales, like she’s trying to shake the image from her mind.
She tugs at her arm again, trying to break free. I don’t let her.
Her eyes drop to my chest, her voice flat but heavy.
“You’re not mine. I don’t have the right to be upset, I don’t even understand why these feelings are so strong.
Maybe I’m just upset about leaving her.” The Siren.
She’s more heartbroken than I know, and me doing what she thinks I did doesn’t help.
I tighten my grip, not to trap her, but to anchor her.
To keep her from running when we both knew this needs to be said.
I felt the tension in her muscles, the quiet tremor riding just beneath her skin.
She can pretend all she wants, but this got to her.
“My tongue wasn’t down her throat,” I say, voice low, dragging out each word. “You can trust me. I’m sorry about you having to leave The Siren. I can see how much she means to you. But trust me when I say, I’m not looking at any other woman except the fiery one standing in front of me.”
Even in the moonlight, I see the blush that climbs her neck, warming her cheeks despite the anger still simmering between us.
And gods, it does something to me. But I don’t let it show.
“I don’t like my integrity being questioned,” I add, letting the edge slip back into my voice.
“She came to me. Not the other way around.”
I take a step closer, my eyes locking on hers.
“I stood in the shadows all night, watching every move you made. Making sure no one laid a hand on you, I will continue to do that.” Her gaze lifts, emerald eyes catching the moonlight like sea glass glinting at the bottom of the sea. I can’t look away.
“We’ll see,” she murmurs, the words soft but threaded with steel.
We walk back to the ship in silence. The kind that wraps around your ribs and squeezes.
Only the crash of waves against the rocks and the distant roar of drunken laughter breaks the quiet.
But even that feels far away. Between us, the silence says more than we’re ready to.
And it weighs more than either of us is willing to admit.