Page 5

I glare at the male who is painfully pinching my wrist. He smirks as if amused by my defiance.

He knew I had a dagger. He wasn’t trying to help me. He was making sure I didn’t stab him with it.

Asshole.

“I was just bringing them down, Lord Arwan. They’re a feisty bunch, aren’t they?” the captain asks. The smug tone of his voice makes my stomach sour because I just accidentally helped him make a sale.

Not only am I an Elite City Lady, trained in entertainment arts, but now I just proved that I will put up a fight, even if I apparently don’t know my way out of a paper bag, or sea-sogged ship, as it were.

Fuck.

I’m not for sale, I repeat inside my head as I glare at him.

Sofia squeaks as Graves’s henchman manhandles her.

“Let her go!” I scream, but no one seems to have even heard me.

I’m a woman. Invisible.

Silent.

As usual.

I hear my sister every time Sofia makes a sound. I know it’s not her, but it doesn’t matter. Rage fills me anyway.

I’m about to do something that will probably result in my wrist getting broken, but my captor calmly surprises me with a deep, silky tone to his voice.

“Twenty silvers for both of them,” he says as he softly rolls his thumb over my wrist. That must be a lot, because the captain’s lips curl with delight.

I’m not for sale.

I’m not for sale.

I’m not for sale!

I snap my eyes to peer up at the male who just placed the bid, because he’s unfortunately still towering over me. And now, he looks quite smug, as if he just found a new toy.

His eyes aren’t human, but they aren’t soulless like the captain’s. His eyes are orbs of frosted blue glass with a piercing look that pins me to the spot. His dark hair frames the sharp features of his face, making him far too beautiful for his own good.

It doesn’t matter how pretty he is, because he just tried to buy me.

I strain against him, but he holds me aloft as if I am merely a feather he’s decided to twirl, or break.

“Fifty,” comes a gruff counter from the back of the room.

My captor loosens his grip for the first time. Challenge flashes in his eyes, and his jaw flexes.

I strain around Lord Arwan to see who placed the next bid.

I can only describe the rival as a massive Viking.

Blond braids. A face crafted by the Gods. And amber eyes with flecks of gold that practically glow as he looks at me with an expression of raw hunger. His impressive muscles ripple under his parted shirt, revealing old scars that resemble claw marks, as well as a runic-looking emblem hanging around his neck.

Holy shit. He’s a pure wolf shifter.

I’ve never seen one before, but I knew I’d encounter them here.

Monster Isle is full of the most unstable types of monsters, with pureblood wolf shifters at the top of the fucking list.