Zander nodded and offered a grateful smile.

The truth was, he’d never stopped thinking about that kiss in the jungle. He felt helpless against the feelings that rose up in him every time he remembered the smell of her breath, the feeling of her calloused fingers against his cheeks. When she was near him, Zander felt the air rush from his body, as if it meant to meet her, to twist through her hair the way his fingers could not. Her presence was light and heavy at the same time, like a fine mist that caressed his skin even as it drenched him outright.

It confused him, the effect she had on him. It made him feel crazy. They barely knew each other, yet Zander spent an unsustainable amount of energy each day consciously trying not to fall mindlessly at her feet in worship, and thereupon be thrown overboard. He was crazy… wasn’t he?

For he dared not trust his eyes, which thought they had caught hers glancing his way each night as the crew shared a meal. He dared not trust his ears, which registered the slightest tension in her voice when he approached. He dared not trust his heart, for he did not know what lay within hers.

He was pulled from his reverie by the sound of a door being flung open. Just beneath the upper deck where he and Theo sat were three rooms. The largest of the three, whose door faced outward toward the main deck, was the captain’s quarters. Flanking that door were two smaller rooms, each facing inward toward each other. One was Theo and Yarrow’s shared quarters. The other housed George along with the crew’s physician, Douglas, who had severe gout and struggled going up and down stairs. The room also served as an occasional surgery.

A moment later Ace emerged on the upper deck like a small hurricane, the tail of her long blue coat whipping behind her in the breeze as she made a beeline for the railing of the upper deck. Yarrow followed just behind her, their hands clasped behind their back, their gait steady and sure, a myriad of weapons hidden beneath their long, untucked linen shirt. Theirs was a sharp contrast to the demeanor of Ace, whose movements seemed to mirror the very movements of the waves that lapped against the hull.

Ace was looking out at something on the horizon. She offered her outstretched hand to Yarrow, who placed a telescope in her palm. Ace was visibly excited as she beheld whatever was out on the water.

“Those sails good and ready, Chicken Leg?” she asked, the telescope still held up to her eye.

Zander’s stomach did a flip at the nickname she’d given him.

“Good enough,” he responded.

Ace pulled the telescope from her face triumphantly and looked in his direction, a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

“Good,” she said. “Because we’ve got a vessel to catch.”

Once, he was a scoundrel.

Frivolity was his namesake, debauchery his legacy, and a life lived fast, hard, and reckless was his only goal. He sped toward death as fast as his feet would take him, moving from place to place, the very picture of a man on the hunt. He chased the next dollar, he chased the next scheme, he chased the next warm bed—at least that’s how it appeared to anyone else.

The truth is, not even he knew what it was he chased. But a desperation ran beneath his skin, a fire that grew too hot if he stayed in one place too long. He moved, flitting from one place to the next, always searching.

Though he knew it not, he was searching for her. And he found her, one fateful day, in a cage.

He was feeling rather smug that day. He’d navigated himself out of a particularly hairy situation involving a drug cartel and a series of underground tunnels. He was meant to be disoriented, having been led into their secret base blindfolded. It was a smart move, preventing him from exposing their lair or allowing them more easily to dispose of his dead body.

It was also a move he anticipated.

He often kept a few moonberry seeds in his pocket as a precaution against getting lost. He didn’t stay in the same village long enough to memorize the roads, and more than once he’d stumbled out of a tavern and forgotten entirely where he was staying. The juice of the seeds, after being exposed to the elements for a few hours, would begin to faintly glow. Its luminescence was subtle enough that someone in a rush may fail to notice it, but it was obvious to anyone looking for it.

In anticipation of this particular visit, he’d placed the seeds discreetly in as many places on (and in) his body as he could think of. As he walked, he squeezed them gently, leaving a path on the cave floor. At the time, the bits of clear liquid would have been invisible to the men leading him on. But after a few hours, they would signal his way out.

So, after a daring escape and the covert theft of a small fortune, he made his way silently through the tunnels toward his freedom. His pace quickened with every step, his feet itching to run but his mind cautioning him against being reckless.

He stopped when he heard a small, angry yell to his left.

Startled, he stopped and looked in the direction of the sound, but saw nothing. After more careful observation, he noticed a small opening in the cave wall, obscured by shadow. The opening turned sharply into a path, which led to a tiny room containing a single cage sitting on the floor. And in the cage was a fairy.

She was pulling desperately at the tiny chain attached to her leg, wincing with every movement. She startled when he approached, dropping the chain and dragging herself across the floor of her cage to the far side. It was then he realized her chained leg was limp and bloodied, broken either by her captors or her desperate attempts to wrench herself free.

The faint glow of her skin in the darkness illuminated tiny, sharp features. They scowled at him beneath a mop of bright green hair that matched her eyes, and those eyes shot daggers at him despite her helplessness.

And suddenly the fire burning beneath his skin died, the itch in his feet diminished, and he felt rooted to the ground for the first time in his life. He wasn’t here for treasure or schemes, he realized. He was here for her.

He sank slowly to his knees and crawled toward the cage. He’d never seen a fairy in person, but he’d heard plenty of stories. He knew enough to know the iron shackle on her leg temporarily drained her of her powers. If the stories were to be believed, it also caused her a considerable amount of pain.

“I’m going to help you,” he whispered. Something deep inside him sighed happily as the ire left her eyes.

The minutes it took to pick the locks of her prison felt like hours. Sweat beaded his brow as he wondered how long it would take for someone to realize he—and the gold he carried—were gone. But when he snuck into the main corridor again, the tiny fairy cupped in one hand, it was still empty. Not willing to take any more chances, he ran.

It was moments before he heard yelling in the distance. It was impossible to determine how far away it was, so he picked up the pace.

Mercifully, the mouth of the cave emerged from the shadows minutes later, the faint rays of sunset streaming onto the floor and propelling him forward as he heard footsteps closing in behind them.

Just before he emerged into the open air, he felt a squeeze on one of his fingers and looked down.

“Put me down,” the fairy told him. “I wish to leave my prison on my own two feet.”

Hearing their pursuers approaching, he hesitated, but heeded her request. Immediately upon touching the ground, the tiny fairy transformed, her miniature stature growing until she was almost as tall as him. He grimaced as she took a step and nearly fell, her bad leg dragging behind her. Quickly, he wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and they limped desperately together toward freedom.

But it was too late, much too late. They had barely cleared the cave mouth when he turned and saw figures emerging from the shadows. He swallowed, unwilling to leave her behind, ready to finally die.

When she stopped and turned, he expected to see the same grim acceptance on her face. Instead, her countenance was filled with rage and determination as she removed her arm from his shoulder and raised it with the other above her head. Her green eyes began to glow, burning and swirling with power, and he heard a sickening crack from the mouth of the cave as tree roots pierced through the rock from high above them. Vines slithered from unseen places and wrapped themselves around the stones, squeezing, and the ground began to shake as every green thing surrounding them seemed to reach their limbs toward the underground lair.

The terrified screams of the cartel members—traffickers, he realized now with a twist in his gut—were quickly drowned by the shudder of the earth as the mouth of the cave collapsed on top of them.

The fairy took several deep, shuddering breaths, and fainted.

He rushed to her, and upon seeing the rise and fall of her chest, sighed in relief. He’d nearly forgotten the heavy bag of gold attached to his belt, and it jangled noisily as he sank onto the ground beside her.

His head had been filled with ideas of how he would spend his treasure when he escaped. But now, the images of fine clothes and rich food were quickly replaced by the image of a ship, and a small cabin in the woods, far enough away that no one would ever find him—or her.

He would take care of her, at least until she was healed. And afterward, if she wished to leave him… he shook his head. Inexplicably, the thought caused him pain. He would cross that bridge when it came.

Hooking his arm beneath her head and the other beneath her knees, he lifted her from the ground and began to walk.

3

“Hoist the sails!” Ace shouted. “Man the oars!”

The sloop became a flurry of activity as they prepared to sail. Zander did his best to push down the nervousness he felt as he and Theo hauled the pile of canvas toward the bow of the ship.

Yarrow’s sudden bellow behind him made Zander jump.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES,” they yelled. A handful of the strongest rowers disappeared below deck.

Ace appeared beside Zander a moment later, her hands nearly brushing his as she helped to hastily reattach the foresail. Zander knew it wasn’t only the impending raid that was causing his hands to shake. It was an unfortunate side effect of being within spitting distance of the beautiful pirate captain.

“You ready for this, Chicken Leg?” Ace asked him, her gaze still focused on the task before her. She said it quietly, and he got the impression she didn’t want to embarrass him by asking too loud.