Page 9 of In Violent Waves

Ice slid through her veins—were they lambs to slaughter?

“I’ve got her,” a rich, masculine voice answered from behind her.

Lyra’s palms dampened with sweat, and she wiped the disgusting reaction on her gown before turning around to set eyes on her savior.

A quick sweep revealed polished black boots, charcoal breeches over muscular thighs, and an evergreen tunic hidden behind a black cape that still showcased a broad chest and shoulders. Lyra’s eyes kept rising, and she had to tip her head back to get a look at his face.

His eyes were the color of a clear blue sky. Or what she imagined it would look like.

She had dreamed that it was what unending freedom would look like. Coupled with a jaw that could cut stone, and short, messy, dark hair. Her heart fluttered against her ribs, and something warm pooled low in her belly.

He was beautiful, unnaturally so.

This was the human whose heart she would consume.

He stared back at her with an unperturbed expression. Not at all distracted by her beauty or that of Marina or Seraphina, as the other men had been.

A peculiar sort of stillness settled around him as if the very world paled in comparison.

Lyra batted her eyelashes at him and plastered on her most alluring smile.

“Why, thank you, kind sir. How shall I repay you?”

Even her voice was not her own, taking on the same hollow-like quality that the most vapid of mermaids in their court possessed.

The kind stranger dipped his chin before reaching into his pockets. A sword pommel strapped to his waist gleamed in the firelight before it was hidden again by the falling of his cloak. Perfect—a weapon she could use. Maybe they weren’t powerless here after all.

“No need. Consider it a welcoming present for newcomers.”

His words were kind, but there was an edge to his tone as he leaned past Lyra to place the silvers on the bar top. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed, but then he stood tall, studying the women.

“That’s very kind of you …” Lyra trailed off, hinting at the desire of his name.

When he didn’t reply, she looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes, sucking her bottom lip behind her teeth. He was a giant of a man, really. Lyra barely reached the column of his neck. She felt small and helpless standing beside him.

And that feeling had her raising her chin. She would never feel helpless because of a mortal male.

“My name is Wilder.”

Something about his name or how he said it had Lyra’s lips tugging up into the most unusual smirk.

“Wilder,” she breathed, testing out the way his name felt in her mouth.

She found she liked it very much, which was most unpleasant since no one would be speaking it aloud after tonight.

But before she could give him hers, he slipped back into the crowd and away from her. Seraphina giggled and whispered in her ear.

“Oh, the things I would do to him before sacrificing his heart to Ennosidas.”

Before Lyra could stop herself, she snarled, “Mine.”

A loud bang had them whirling back around as the barman slammed three copper cups of red wine down.

“Here you go, ladies.”

He trudged down the bar to help the next person vying for his attention.

Lyra studied the sloshing red wine in the glass before glancing over her shoulder to lock eyes with Wilder as he slipped out the front door.