Daughter of the Pirate King (Daughter of the Pirate King, #1)

by Tricia Levenseller

“Lass, you’ve the face of an angel but the tongue of a snake.”

He wears his confidence as if it is merely another article of clothing upon his person.

They have the same dark eyes, but Riden is more handsome.

“She’s got a fiery temperament that matches the red hair atop her head.

Stereotypical much??

I hesitate for only a brief moment before tossing the key at him.

She so switched the keys

It’s the key to my cell.

Yaaaaas girlie!!

Looking good certainly helps to make one feel good.

Sometimes survival isn’t about what you can do, but who you know.”

It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t smell so good. Pirates are supposed to stink. Why does he have to smell like salt and soap?

The night air is brisk, but Riden is still warm from being wrapped in bed. Warm and solid and good smelling.

“I’m trying to get my key back.” “Sounds like an excuse to touch me.” He smiles and leans forward so his mouth is at my ear. “I don’t see you stopping me.”

He carries with him a tray of food and a dangerous smile. At the sight, I feel my stomach growl. I’m fairly certain that’s a response to the food and not the smile.

Imagine that you traveled all over the world, looking for happiness, looking for thrills to pass the time. Imagine seeing everything there is to see and still not finding happiness.

“Yet you’re his friend. Why?” “Because everybody needs somebody.

Everyone has something dark in their past. I suppose it's our job to overcome it. And if we can’t overcome it, then all we can do is make the most of it.

I know how much you like it when I have my hands on you.”

Being underestimated always works to my advantage. But sometimes I find it offensive.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t like to handle this one yourself? I’m just ‘the girl.’”

I value brilliant minds, honest souls, and those with long endurance. I forge relationships based on trust and mutual respect, not fear and control.

I weave those into the song and command him to sleep and forget that he ever heard me sing.

She's part siren fs

I am mostly human. But when I allow myself to use the gifts my mother gave me, I become something else. And it kills me a little inside each time I have to fight it back off.

Yeppp she def is

And being half siren—well, that makes me deadly.

Called it

Submissiveness. I try not to cringe as the word enters my mind. Horrid word, that one.

“I am me because I choose to be me. I am what I want. Some people say you have to find yourself. Not I. I believe we create ourselves to be what we want. Any aspect of ourselves that we do not like can be altered if we make an effort.”