She spun, heart lurching into her throat. The captain stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with cold eyes. Shehadn't heard the door open. She hadn't heard him approach. He moved like smoke, like shadow.
"I didn't ask." She didn't put the box down. "I looked. There's a difference."
"A distinction without meaning." He crossed the room in three strides, and suddenly he was looming over her, his scent flooding her senses. Her thighs clenched. Lust flared, quick and powerful. She hated her body. She hated it.
"That ring is yours." He pulled out the seventh ring. “Put it on.”
She didn’t. She held up the first ring, letting it catch the light. "Marguerite. What was she like?”
“I told you...”
“I know what you told me, but damn it, I deserve some answers. Why am I here?”
“You’re here because you’re an omega.”
“So were they. Why did they die? Did they not love you? Is that why?”
His hands curled into fists at his sides. "They died because of the curse. The curse that’s behind that forbidden door.”
She placed the ring back in its velvet hollow with exaggerated care. "If I don’t love you will that save me?”
“No.”
“So I have to fall in love with you in order to survive?”
He sighed heavily. “That didn’t save the others.”
“Then why do you think my fate will be different from these other six brides?”
"You’re human." He reached out, and for a terrible, wonderful moment she thought he was going to touch her face again. Instead, he took the box from her, his fingers brushing hers in the process. Heat shot through her, and she grit her teeth to fight against the sweet pleasure. “You may be able to break thecurse.” He tossed her the lovely gold ring, adorned with small rubies.
With shaking hands, she put it on her finger and tried not to admire it. It fit her perfectly. Was that magic or fate? "And if I can't?"
He put some distance between them. When he spoke again, exhaustion carved lines into his face.
"Then I will engrave your ring and add it to the box. And find another omega."
He left without another word.
ANATOLE
ANATOLE STOOD AT THEhelm, staring out at the endless gray of the Crimson Sea, and tried to force his mind away from the woman in his quarters. It wasn't working. Every time he breathed, he caught traces of her scent on the wind. Honeysuckle, vanilla and sea salt, threaded through the ship like a living thing, wrapping around his lungs and refusing to let go.
Mate,his wolf insisted, pacing behind his ribs.Ours. Go back to her. Claim her. Put our teeth in her throat and make her ours forever.
Don’t get attached,Anatole told his wolf.She will probably die, like all the others.
She is different. She is strong. She will not die.
You said that about Marguerite.
His wolf went silent. It always went silent when he mentioned Marguerite.
He had spent the last twelve years ignoring his wolf's demands. Twelve years of ruts spent alone, chained in the hold, his body tearing itself apart with need. It was better thanwatching omega after omega die in that cursed room, their love not strong enough to break Morvenna's spell.
His wolf had never called any of them mate. Not Celeste with her warrior's heart. Not Isabeau with her clever mind. Not Adele with her gentle hands and the child she'd been carrying without his knowledge.
"You're going to wear a hole in the deck."
