Enticed By The Corsair (Corsairs, #3)

by Ruby Dixon

“Promise me,” Tarekh says in a low voice. When I glance over, he continues. “Promise me that if she’s dead, you’ll put an end to me, too. I won’t live knowing that I failed her.” I stare at him. We’ve been through a lot, he and I, and Tarekh’s always been light-hearted and easy-going. This isn’t him. But I’ve never been mated. I don’t understand what it’s like. This sits wrong with me. But I also know what it’s like to want to die. So I nod.

Time blurs when I’m in one of my rages.

So the crew is still alive?” “Not for much longer.” I’m about to go back to the bridge and take care of things, because those bastards are not breathing more oxygen if I can help it.

Her eyes aren’t hidden by shadows. They’re gone, nothing but dark, angry scars remaining in their place.

Something deep inside me instinctually recognizes her as mine. I’ve heard other mesakkah talk about it. How when they meet their female, they just know in their gut that she’s the one. That the connection is lightning fast and soul-wrenchingly deep. Always thought that was garbage until now.

My heart skips a beat at that smile. For that, I’d do anything. For her, I’d move asteroids and fly through black holes, unafraid. I’m hers in that moment. Completely and utterly hers.

Kef, I love that smile. I'd do anything for it.

“Oh, I'm not fixed. I'm as broken as ever. But you get better at hiding it. And you get better at being broken.”

Is he lonely? I didn't realize I was until I saw Iris. “Someday it'll happen for you, too, my friend.” He just snorts.

“Mesakkah cap our horns when we come of age. It's a sign of adulthood. Of civilization. I don't know why we do it, just that if you don't cap them, you're looked at like some sort of wild man who just emerged from the jungle on a very backwards moon.”

No wonder there's no fight left in her. They broke her and she hasn't had time to mend. I'll always be here for her, I decide. Always.

How can I love her and want to shake her at the same time? But I do. She's so calm. I want her to be a thunderstorm. A flurry of anger. I'd rather that she was chaos and rage and tears, because those I could understand. This unnatural placidity? I don't understand that at all.

“It's not to prove a point,” Alvos says. “It's because I love you and you're mine.”

Nothing anyone else did to you changes how lovely I find you. You're perfect to me.”

I'd rather have fiery, slapping and spitting-with-anger Iris than the Iris who has no emotions.