Luc's voice cut through the fog of his thoughts. Anatole stilled, realizing he had been pacing without noticing.
"She found the rings," he said. "Already. Less than a day aboard and she's already picking locks and searching through my things."
"The others never thought to snoop around." Luc leaned against the rail, his scarred face thoughtful. "They were too busy trying to please you."
Anatole thought of Jeanne kneeling beside the open trunk, Marguerite's ring in her hand, demanding answers with her chin raised and her eyes blazing. She had been afraid. He could smell it on her, that sharp acrid note cutting through the sweetness of her scent. But she had faced him anyway.
And underneath the fear, underneath the grief for her dead brother, there had been arousal. Hot and sweet and unwilling. Her body had wanted him even as her mind screamed no.
His cock stirred at the memory. He ignored it. Anatole looked out at the sea, at the gray horizon that held no answers. His wolf stirred again, pushing against the cage of his ribs.She will be ours. She is strong enough. She will break the curse and then we will knot her until she screams our name.
JEANNE
THE COOK'S NAME WASGris, and he was the only person on the ship who didn’t lower their gaze and back away from her when she walked passed.
"Eat," he said, placing a bowl of fish stew in front of her. The galley was cramped and hot, smelling of brine and smoke. It was the first place on the ship where Jeanne had been able to breathe without drowning in the captain's scent. "You're too thin. Captain Anatole won't be pleased if you waste away."
Anatole. His name rang like a bell through her, and she controlled a shiver.
"He can go to hell." Jeanne picked up the spoon. She was hungry. She hadn't eaten since before Marc died. Her throat tightened. She forced herself to swallow a bite of stew.
Gris sighed, settling onto a stool across from her. He was old for a wolf, his hair gone silver and his movements slower than the others. But his eyes were kind, and when he looked at her, she saw a tired sort of sadness.
"I've sailed with him for twenty years. Before the sea witch cursed him, he was a good man. Hard, but fair. The kind of captain seawolves wanted to follow."
"And now?"
"Now he's drowning." Gris's voice dropped. "Every bride he takes, he thinks will be the one to break the curse. And every time one of them dies, he loses another piece of himself. The man I knew is still in there somewhere. But there's less of him every year."
Jeanne stirred her stew, watching the chunks of fish swirl in the broth. "Did you care for the other omegas?” She knew she was breaking one of the captain’s rules, but she didn’t care. She needed to know more about what was going to happen to her so she could try and protect herself.
"I cared for all of them." Gris's hands folded on the table. "Marguerite was sweet, gentle. She loved the captain so muchit was painful to watch. Her mother hated that. Hated that she gave herself to a mere pirate captain. So she cursed him. Cursed them both.”
“She cursed her own daughter?”
Gris shrugged. “I don’t think she meant to.”
Or maybe she did. Jeanne’s own father sold her. Maybe the sea witch was going to sell her daughter too because omegas were a valued commodity.
“Celeste was fierce, a warrior,” Gris went on, his eyes far away. “Iseabeau was clever. Vivienne was kind. Lucienne was brave. Adele was..." He stopped, swallowing hard. "Adele was pregnant when she opened the door. Three months along. The curse took them both."
Jeanne's spoon stilled. "Pregnant."
"The captain didn't know. She hadn't told him yet. She was going to surprise him." Gris's voice cracked. "She thought a baby might give him hope. Instead, she entered the room."
“The forbidden room?”
Jeanne felt it then. A pull, in her chest. Like there was a thread tied to her ribs, tugging her toward the lowest deck. Maybe this was why she wasn’t supposed to ask questions. Had she awoken something? It was like the ship was breathing, and she could hear it.
Gris’ features darkened. “It’s where the heart of the curse resides.”
The stew sat heavy in Jeanne's stomach. Six brides. Six deaths. One of them carrying a child that would never be born. And the cursed captain, Anatole, watched it happen over and over, powerless to stop it. She didn't want to feel sympathy for him. She had to think of him as the enemy. As the obstacle between her and survival.
"Why do they open the door?" she asked. "If they know it will kill them, why do they go?"
"They can't help it." Gris's eyes met hers, and there was a warning in them now. "The room calls to omegas. It sings to them in their dreams. The closer they get to heat, the stronger the pull becomes. They all swore they wouldn't go. They all went anyway."
"Anatole says I might be different because I'm human."
