She couldn’t remember anything past that. His words had been too cruel and biting for her to commit them to memory. The violence too horrific.
And for no reason other than Nibo had been different from what her father deemed “acceptable.” He wasn’t what her father had wanted for her.
So, he’d shown up the next day with a man his age and demanded she marry him to take the taint away from their family name. As if her father hadn’t done them more harm by his own actions of damning them to a life of bitter, cruel poverty for his own selfish ego that craved respectability from others. Not for anything he’d achieved or done with his life. But for what he’d deprived her and her mother of having.
After all, it was her fault that others whispered and gossiped about them behind their backs and while they were in church. God forbid her father accept the blame for anything, ever. He’d always pushed that off on her mother or her. It was why Valynda hated him. Why she’d never wanted to be around her father. He liked to paint himself as a noble bastard or hapless martyr to all. Some self-sacrificing family man to be admired by the entire world and held up as an example of what everyone should strive to be. Yet that was only a sham. A lie he professed for admiration he didn’t deserve.
There was nothing benevolent in her father’s heart. Everything he did was for show, so that others would speak kindly about him, because he couldn’t stand to be criticized. It was for his own self-glorification and he didn’t care how it affected her mother or her. How it damaged their futures. So long as he got what he wanted in the here and now, that was all that mattered. Their only reason to exist was to serve him and his needs and ego. So long as she was a bragging right, he loved her. When she disappointed him, she was nothing to him. Just an object to be cast aside, mocked and ridiculed.
Herbert Moore was a disgusting dog she’d learned to hate early in life, and she resented her mother, Lizzie, for never standing up to him. But then her mother had always been a weak, selfish woman, more concerned with her own needs than anyone else’s.
So here Valynda was. Trapped between worlds.
Soulless and in the body of a doll.
Pain choked her. “I have no place in this world.” Truth was, she never had. Even when she’d been human, she’d felt that way. Unwanted. Unloved.
Unnecessary. She was so done with this cold world.
Heartbroken and disgusted, Valynda clutched her fist and drew it back, changing her mind about bothering the captain. There was no need. She didn’t want to hear his answer, lest it be something that would only hurt her more.
As everything did.
She couldn’t take another kick in her teeth. Even if they were only made of straw.
But before she could leave, the door opened.
Captain Bane drew up short as he saw her. “Miss Moore? To what do I owe the honor?”
Leave it to the Devyl Bane to be so kind and formal. Then again, he was ever a creature of contradictions. He shared that trait with Nibo.
“I … um …” Why couldn’t she ever think of something plausible to say? Really, it was frustrating.
“Aye?”
No reasonable lie manifested. Just once, couldn’t she think of something?
What do you expect? Even your brains are straw …
And before she could stop herself, the truth came tumbling out of her mouth. “Why did you pick me for the crew?”
The captain leaned against the door frame and arched one incredibly handsome brow. “Interesting way to start the conversation.” He rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip.
A distracting gesture, no doubt. But sadly, as handsome as he was, he wasn’t the one who made her swoon. “I’m not stupid, Captain. I’m not like your wife. I can’t fashion a ship from me body. Nor am I like Sallie, who has his soul stored in a bottle that he can unleash to become a superhuman with incredible strength. I’m not Will or Bart, who are great sorcerers. Or Lady Belle. So why did you choose a woman with so little to offer?”
He scowled at her words. “You’re too hard on yourself, my lady.”
“And you’re avoiding my question.”
He let out a fierce, resigned sigh. “Very well, Miss Moore. The truth is, I didn’t pick you.”
Her heart sank over the fact that Belle hadn’t been lying. Not that she’d believed that. Not really. Just that the confirmation burned more than she wanted to admit. It was hard to hear a harsh truth, but she’d much rather hear that than a lie.
In that moment, standing outside his cabin, Valynda felt so unwanted. Again. It seemed ever her lot in life. She was forced on everyone, like some hapless, wandering beggar. “I see.”
“Don’t be getting that tone, Miss Moore.” He cleared his deep voice, then stepped back and glared up. “Thorn, you evil bastard, tuck it in and get here, now. I summon you forth from your infernal lair.”
A bright flash appeared just behind her left shoulder. Tall and handsome as the devil himself, Thorn was always a bit of a dandy in fashion and yet he was unmistakably masculine. Dangerously so, point of fact. She wasn’t quite sure how he managed to pull it off, and yet there was an aura about him that let everyone know he’d be more than happy to gut anyone or anything who annoyed him, and that he’d do it without wrinkling or mussing his elegantly pressed lace cuffs.
