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I’ve had the entire voyage to play this moment out in my mind. My feet take me through my dreams, making them real with each thump against the deck.

Banishing the withdrawal nightmares had given my mind space to make my own. And now I run through them just as I planned.

I skirt right toward a divot in the ship, one I have heard boots use only very occasionally.

I’m no expert on ships, but I’ve deduced that must mean this is an uncommonly used route to a lower deck, possibly one that contains escape boats.

Or another dungeon for black-market goods, I grimly wonder.

There’s no going back now, though.

Shouting breaks out behind us, making me curse under my breath.

“They’re out!” Sofia cries. I appreciate the heads-up because I’m not looking back.

I never look back.

My eyes are ahead, on the door at the end of the stairs that I pray will lead to hope.

Unfortunately, when I bust through the door, I find that it leads instead to a man who I can only call death incarnate, and he’s staring me right in the face.

He encompasses a beautiful, terrifying kind of death that comes swiftly, unforeseen, and is unstoppable. His predator eyes lock onto me, pinning me in place with the intense blue that swirls in his irises. The air around him seems to bow in as flickers of blue wink in and out of existence.

He’s a magic wielder.

And by the way my lungs freeze, I know he contains more magic than any man or monster I’ve ever met. I have always been sensitive to magic.

Perhaps it was because of the tonics my mother ingested when she was pregnant with me.

Or maybe I’m just a freak, but I can hardly breathe as I take in the gorgeous male who looks like he could end me with a mere thought.

I should be terrified, but a thrill runs up my spine as his gaze skirts over me with intrigue.

Shaking it off, I force myself to blink. No matter how pretty his face is, I’m not for sale to anyone, and that includes this asshole who happens to be in my way.

His magic is overpowering, though, and makes me waver on my feet.

“Whoa,” he says as he easily catches my wrist. His fingers on the hand that grabs me are completely black, boasting dark magic that has pooled through the extremity. Black veins peek through his shirt at his shoulder, revealing an infection of dark magic that he doesn’t seem to have any interest in hiding.

He steadies me as he leans in, making the effect worse as black spots sprinkle my vision. “What are you doing here?” he asks as if we know each other.

Maybe he talks that way to every girl he captures.

My mouth bobs open and closed, unable to make a sound.

Fuck, why can’t I speak? It’s like I’ve never seen a smoking-hot guy before.

And why does he have to smell so delicious? Like bergamot and cardamom.

His eyes narrow as he evaluates me, as if he changed his mind about something.

Sofia screams as she’s ripped from my grip, and I whip my head to see her being dragged out of the room by a very pissed-off captain, who has a nice gash across the side of his face. His eye is swollen shut, and if I played my cards right, it’ll never open again.

“Stop—” I begin to shout, but the male holding my arm interrupts me.

“You’ve been holding out on us, Graves,” he says in an accent that doesn’t match the captain’s.

I wince on a cry, and the dagger I had been holding clatters to the polished wood boards below.