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It shouldn’t matter whether I like him or respect him so long as he has the means to keep Gerunde so far from me that I can’t in my wildest nightmares imagine a scenario in which he can touch me. To take control of my fears will be enough for the exchange I intend to make.
Why not stand before him now and test whether I’ll be brave enough to make the proposal tomorrow morning?
CHAPTER SIX
FRANKIE
After throwing on a sweater and tying my greasy hair into a no-nonsense bun, I slip into the corridor of the Revenge and wander around.
I encounter warriors in the hallway, walking their rounds. They eye me with undisguised curiosity but say nothing. Some of them bow their head in deference or avoid looking at me altogether. No one asks who I am or what purpose I have for waltzing the halls in the middle of the night. They’ve clearly been forewarned of my arrival on the ship.
There’s a single guard posted outside the door to the king’s quarters. I make to sweep by him, expecting the same stiff treatment. But this one’s not shy.
“He’s asleep, you know,” he says. “You’re welcome here, but… it’s odd timing, don’t you think?”
“Do you mind if I sneak in?” I ask, lacing my gloved fingers.
He shrugs. “Kinky way of a first impression if you ask me.”
I frown. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I want to get a look at him, on my own terms… Is that strange?”
“I have strict orders to let you do as you wish on this ship. If that involves strange nighttime activities, it’s none of my business.” He throws me an indulgent smirk. “You wanna keep it a secret, then?”
“Would you?”
He nods, and then bows his to me when a fist to his heart. “Of course, my lady. Viro Avanikka, at your service.”
“Nice to meet you, Viro. Just call me Frankie, alright?”
I slip inside, half-expecting to be in a bedroom. But it’s a waiting room with a conversation pit at the center. I skirt the seating area and head to the door directly across from the entrance. There’s a dog sleeping there. At least, it looks like a dog at first glance. When I get closer, it becomes apparent how massive the creature is. It opens its eyes at my presence, so I freeze, worried it might be an attack dog.
It jumps to attention and bounds at me. The beast is a nightmarish wolf, shaggier and leaner, like a demonic greyhound. I let out a startled squeak and flinch, but all it does is bump its head into my hip and start circling me excitedly.
“Hello there,” I whisper, reaching out tentatively.
It licks my glove without hesitation and its tail wags happily. It… likes me? I pat its head gently, and it seems content with that attention.
I turn toward the door it had been snoozing in front of.
“Stay here,” I coo at the creature, who seems to pout at the idea of being left alone in here while I visit the king. It huffs as I push its snout out of the crack in the doorway.
The room I enter is dark and silent aside from the slows breaths of a sleeping man. I creep across the floor on soft footsteps. My heart pounds, and my body tenses as the reality of my nighttime detour sinks in. I’m not sure why I’ve been possessed to spy on him like some phantom, but I can’t stop myself.
There, at the edge of the bed, lies the King of Deviants, the alien who wants to marry me. He sleeps on his back with one hand tucked up behind the pillow. His trademark blue curls spill out behind his head like a vibrant halo.
His handsomeness is inarguable. I’d seen him in pictures when I searched his name online. There’s a wealth of information about this man with a million monikers—Exiled Prince, Mercenary King, King of Deviants, Pirate King. They all summon an intimidating aura, perhaps a gruff appearance.
But here in the privacy of his room with his face peacefully shuttered, he looks more boyish and softer than the impression I had in my mind. Those blue lashes are so fluffy when viewed up close, and his nose comes to a delicate point. The blanket falls unevenly across his abdomen, leaving his unclothed chest on display. His gray skin has an iridescent sheen in the flickering blue light cast by the streaks of objects in space passing by the windows. Altogether, he looks like a luminous painting of an angel, not the commander of an army and inheritor of a planet.
A paper on his bedside table catches my eye. Could it be?
My letter… I lean over the carefully smoothed out piece of paper that was once folded neatly.
His body jerks suddenly; he must’ve sensed my presence.
Though he seems half-lost in dreams still, his reflexes are quick. A dagger appears from underneath his pillow as he poises himself to use it on me. He doesn’t touch me, but he’s close enough that I feel the heat coming off him and see a vein pulse in his neck.
I suck in a sharp breath as the tip of his blade lingers at my throat.
