Drew Knight used to feel free standing at the helm of his ship, his fingers grasping the rungs of the wheel.

Not anymore.

His eyes were drawn to the horizon. Not on the abundance of the ocean; rather, there was a spit of land slowly coming into view. The island was unknown—not drawn on atlases. Only the magically inclined knew of its existence, as well as humans who were given the location by the supernatural. It was a land ungoverned, a land where potions could be easily acquired, where blood could be feasted on in plain sight.

Isle Del Malditos.

The Island of the Damned.

It was a perfectly fine place to find sustenance, but that’s not what Drew wanted. He wanted freedom. He wanted to go to the Isle of Sangre. But Isle Del Malditos...this isle was for his crew. Once they were nourished, then he could chase his freedom.

When he had first broken his bond with the Queen, he had spent a good portion of his time here. He had no purpose other than to feed, to fuck, and to be surrounded by those who were similar to him.

He was a sorry piece of excrement back then. A victim, as it were, drowning himself in both blood and alcohol. It was no surprise why Emma decided to leave him and return to Port Royal. He was not in a good headspace at the time, probably not someone anyone with their head on the right way would desire to be around.

That changed, of course, when word got out about who severed his bond. He should have known the Queen would track Emma. He was ignorant and arrogant and a goddamn fool. She had been taken by the Society, been forced to participate in their breeding program—a program started by Kelia’s father.

It was only then that Drew was smacked with the thought that he had been doing nothing but eating, fucking, and feeling sorry for himself. He would free her, he decided. But that did not make him brave. He still cowered. Afraid to fall into the hands of the Queen so soon after being free, he recruited Wendy to assist him. Wendy did, and Emma was freed, but then Wendy fell into the program during the rescue mission. And, in order to get Wendy out, he needed Kelia.

He had condemned each woman he cared about because he was a coward. He would never do so again.

“And here I thought you would never step foot on this island again.”

Emma had this supernatural way of sneaking up on him. He should not let it get to him, but there were times, such as this, where he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that it was difficult not to get spooked.

“We all do things we do not want to do,” Drew muttered. “Apparently, the crew wants a couple of nights of debauchery before we find the Queen and slaughter her on her goddamn island.”

“Do you think Grayson—”

“If I am being honest,” Drew said, shifting his weight and steering the ship thirty degrees west, lining up better with the island, “I am hoping that bastard is nothing more than ash.”

“You stole his ship,” Emma pointed out. “You bought his crew. A man—especially one like Grayson Briggs—will not be happy to see you, Drew. If he isn't dead, of course.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Drew didn’t like snapping, least of all to Emma, but he was not in the mood to think about Grayson Briggs. “I have no other options here. This is the fastest passage to Sangre, and the only island on the way. We need supplies, too. If we had gone back to another island for supplies, we’d still need them again before we hit this point. You know this.”

“I know a lot of things,” Emma said. “But you rarely care to hear them.”

Drew waved her off. He knew what she was getting at. The ‘suicide mission’ talk again. First it was about the Queen. Then the Shadow Apocalypse. Now, she was trying to scare him with Briggs?

“For someone who knows so much, you should know that if I’m not scared of the Queen, then I am least of all afraid of Briggs.” He scoffed. To suggest he should be afraid of that sorry excuse for a man was mockery. “Besides, I don’t expect to stay there more than two nights. Then I can kill the bitch and finally be free.”

“Will you be?” Emma asked. “Free, I mean. Will you really be free then?”

“That’s a ridiculous question. Of course I’ll be free then.”

“You always say you’ll be free when,” Emma said pointedly. “But the terms are always changing.”

Drew let her words roll off him like the meaningless waste of air they were.

“We should be there in half a day if the winds remain favorable,” he said, his eyes never wavering from the island.

Emma pressed her lips together and nodded defeatedly. When Drew looked over his shoulder to see if she was still present, he found himself staring at nothing but the salt-tinged breeze.

It was surprisingly warm, the sun shining down on the ship, but for some reason, this seemed more ominous than if the sky was black and it was raining bullets. It was almost as though it was a false sense of security, the way a Siren lured her victims into a state of hypnotic bliss before ripping out his throat.

The sails flapped in the gentle breeze. His crisp Jolly Roger—a pure black flag featuring a white skull with two fangs in its mouth dripping crimson blood—billowed in the air next to the white sails.

It was nice to finally fly it freely. Before, when he was docked at Port George, he had to suppress it. His Jolly Roger was infamous, and any sight of it around the island would have given the Society a clear indicator of his location—and that was something he had not wanted to risk. Now that the Society was far behind them, he could fly it proudly, letting everyone know who was coming. A looming threat, a strict promise of no mercy from the most notorious Sea Shadow to ever sail the Caribbean.

Hours passed. Christopher came to speak with him about the plan, but Drew did not need to pay full attention to the Infant. All Christopher had cared about was getting Wendy back. And he had that. Drew was surprised the two were still with him, though to be fair, they hadn’t really had a chance to leave yet.

By the time the island was close enough to see it as more than just a spec in the distance, the sun was on its way down from its highest point. Judging by the sun’s position in the sky, Drew would guess it was just after three o’clock in the afternoon, maybe a bit later. The taverns lining the docks would be getting ready for the evening rush. Any of the witches on land would wait for another hour or two before closing up shop and heading home for the night.

It wasn’t by accident that witches and Shadows avoided each other on land. Witches could take control of the elements surrounding Shadows in order to control them while Shadows could rip into the flesh of witches if they were fast enough. So long as they each minded their own place, there were hardly any issues between them, but the general disdain each entity held for the other seemed to fuel conflict when they crossed paths.

It was why he’d hesitated to bring Emma aboard his ship in the first place.

And now you have three witches aboard, you fool.

Drew shook his head and refocused his attention on sailing until they were roughly an hour away. Then he called a meeting. The sun was setting, the sky a brilliant bright hue of gold and orange and yellow against the gentle blue of the sea.

It was not long before his crew lined up on deck, shoulder to shoulder, eyes out at sea. Drew knew they saw the island, knew by the way their nose wrinkled that they could smell the blood, the lust, the magic.

He did not begin until everyone was on deck.

The witches all looked bored, muttering what a waste of time this was, save for Emma. She didn’t have to vocalize what was plain on her face. Kelia had a look of indifference as well, but there was an edge to her eyes—one that suggested she was curious but also cautious about what was going to happen.

“We will only be here for two nights,” Drew said, his tone clipped. He thrust his hands behind his back and paced down the line of his crew, as though he was just about to lead them into battle. “Do what you must, but I expect you back on this ship by first light on the second night. I want to leave this place as quickly as possible, and anyone who hasn’t returned by then will be left behind. No exceptions.”

He knew that was a lie when he said it, but he needed everyone to realize the gravity of the situation.

He reached the women at the end of the line. Emma and Wendy had been here before. This speech was not for them. Daniella and Kelia, on the other hand, did not know of the dangers they faced simply by walking on this island as a human. He wanted them to be aware of that, to appreciate just how perilous this island was.

“Do not get in over your head.” His eyes flickered to Daniella, her frizzy curls pinned up. “Do not explore this island on your own.” He let his gaze linger on Kelia now. “Even during the day, this place is filled with things you cannot begin to fathom. Every choice you make could produce a consequence you are not quite aware of. Do not take for granted the power that you have. Always be responsible for yourself and the company you choose to keep.”

Drew watched Kelia swallow, which seemed like acquiesce to his order. Except, the order was not meant for her.

Still, he leveled his gaze at her, lowered his voice, and said, “Do not leave this ship without my permission.”

Then, to the rest of the crew, he ordered, “Prepare for docking!”

The crew disassembled to do just that, while Kelia seemed to still be staring at him with an unspoken question in her gaze that he was certain he did not want to hear.

“Feels like it’s going to be a warm night,” Wendy said, tilting her head to the sky. “Excuse me while I change.”

“I want to get new shoes,” Daniella said, standing up from her kneeling position.

“Don’t go on the island without me,” Christopher drawled, his slate-blue eyes watching as his wife and her apprentice retreated to her room.

“Darling, you forget,” Wendy called over her shoulder with a smile. “You have never been here before. I have!”

Christopher chuckled, shaking his head. Upon seeing Drew’s unflinching look, Christopher cut his laughter off with a cough and nodded.

“I’ll go help the crew,” he said.

“Considering you are a member of this crew, regardless of your relationship with my sister, that would be a good idea,” Drew said.

Kelia turned and started to head out, probably to do her part of the ship. She always behaved as if a member of this crew herself and seemed to feel uncomfortable if he ever singled her out or gave her preferential treatment.

His comment earlier probably did not help. And yet, even now, he could not help but stop her.

“Wait.” His voice was soft, and he shot out his hand to grip her wrist gently, making sure she stayed put. Making sure he had some kind of excuse to let his fingertips linger on her skin.

Her pulse jumped against her wrist. Under normal circumstances, Drew would be amused by this reaction to him. They had known each other for months now, and she was still nervous around him. But it was more than that. There was something he could only describe as heavy hanging between them, making it difficult to breathe. Even touching her, even feeling her warmth, made him hesitate. And yet he couldn’t not touch her. It was something he simply had to do to feel good. Nothing else affected him the way she did. Not anymore.

Kelia lifted her gaze from the wooden deck. When her ocean-green eyes met his, something was there. He had been alive for a century, and he had never seen eyes like hers. They were bewitching him like sea songs, yet there was a part of him that worried she would jump out and betray him, to rip his throat out the way those beasts did to unsuspecting sailors.

But she never did. Deep down, he knew she never would. Yet he still hesitated.

“Yes?” she asked.

The question was small, her eyes curious. There was something vulnerable in her ignorance. Or maybe that was what he told himself. It was a reason to think he had a right to protect her when he knew he did not. Kelia could more than protect herself. That much was certain. She had saved his life on that island.

She had saved his life.

It was a fact he still could not get over.

“What I said back there,” he started, wanting to apologize for it. For telling her what she could and could not do. Instead, he said, “I meant it. You are not to leave here without me.”

What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like a mad man.

He swallowed. His fingers were still locked around her wrist, though it was a gentle grip rather than a tight one.

“What I mean is, I’d appreciate having you by my side when I need you,” he lied. Of course that wasn’t what he meant. What he meant was, I’m risking everything for you. I can’t afford to lose you. Stay safe. “Stay where I can find you at all times, Slayer.”

Why did he still call her that? She was most definitely not a Slayer anymore, and yet, he could not bring himself to call her anything else. Every once in a while, darling might slip out, but even then, the word did not suit her. She was more than a simple term of endearment. She was more than a word could adequately describe. And he did not know how to feel about that.

Kelia heaved a sigh and shifted her weight.

“All right,” she said. She tossed her newly-braided hair over her slender shoulder and looked away.

Drew’s lips curled into a grin, and he dropped her hand. This was much better. This was where he felt more comfortable; when they were not physically connected, when she was not looking at him with such penetrating eyes, when their secrets were still unspoken but fully on display.

He could hide nothing from her. It was a contradiction; he did not understand how she could make him feel both fearful and safe at the same time, but she could. Kelia had a strange, mystical power that seemed to only affect him. When he teased her, when he riled her up, there was a safe distance placed between them. A distraction, certainly, but it was enough to keep these unwelcome feelings at bay.

At least, for now.

“The Island of the Damned is not the place for a young woman of your ilk,” he reminded her, faking a teasing tone.

She crossed her arms over her chest, defiance thrumming from her body. “I still do not know what that means.”

“It means you are beautiful.” He could not stop the words from coming out if he tried. He hated himself for it. He swallowed and dropped his gaze. He wasn’t ready to see how she would react to his own honesty. “It means, unfortunately, that when men see a pretty thing, they want to possess it, to own it.”

“And you think I am responsible for men and their actions?” She caught his eye once more and there was a resilient spark in them. Drew could not help but admire her stubbornness. “You think I should change how I move through this world because of how others might react?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. It’s not your responsibility how men choose to behave. I suppose all I am saying is...”

Why was it so hard to just say the words? Why could he not get them out of his mouth when other things like remarking on her beauty was seemingly so easy?

“Do not worry, Drew,” she told him. Her lips slid into a grin. “I have my trusted blade.” She touched her right hip with her left hand. “I know how to protect myself.”

“I know you do.”

“Then you should not worry when I set off to explore. Be it with you, or my friends. Or alone.”

Was the woman trying to test his resolve? Why would she even say that? What purpose could there possibly be for her to head off alone?

She seemed to still, her expression shifting to one of concern, judging by the furrowed brow, the wrinkled nose. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her blade as if she was rooting herself in place.

“What is it, Drew?” she asked. “I was only joking, you know.”

Drew didn’t understand what was happening to himself at this very moment, let alone what Kelia would do once they arrived on the island. Drew Knight was never speechless unless he was eating or drinking. He felt discombobulated, not having a handle on his mouth, on the words that seemed to escape the confines of his brain whenever he was around her now.

He wanted to tell her that while he knew she was fully capable and he trusted her with his life, if anything happened to her, he would rip whoever hurt her into tiny ribbons of flesh before clawing out their innards and painting his deck with their blood. That if he ever lost her, if something ever happened to her, he would not know what to do with himself anymore. That his life would have lost the purpose he didn’t even know it had before he’d met her.

What he didn’t want, however, was to ruin their friendship. As it were, confessing his feelings bordered romantic could very possibly do such a thing. Hell, he was not even certain what those feelings really meant.

There had been that kiss—that one kiss back in Port George—but they’d never spoken of it after, never asked one another what it meant. Drew knew what it meant to him, but to Kelia, perhaps it was just the impulse of a young woman who thought she was about to die. If he told her how he really felt about that kiss, it could ruin everything.

For now, Drew didn’t care if he had Kelia’s romantic interests. He just cared that she was alive—and that she stayed that way.

“Drew?” she repeated. “You don’t look well at all.”

He shook his head as if it would chase away the haunting feelings. “I’m fine.” He forced a smile. “Just need to feed. And you’re quite right, of course, darling. Just be careful, aye?”

She stared at him as though he had grown a second head.

“All right, Drew,” she murmured before turning and heading to prepare for land.

Drew let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding. She would be the second death of him.

If Emma’s predictions were correct, quite literally.