Filed To Story: The Saltwater Curse Book PDF Free
“I knew I could get on and off the vessel without issue. Blending in is my specialty, even as a cub. Yannig’s, his words. He could convince anyone to do almost anything. It made him arrogant. Words wouldn’t keep him from detection. A human spotted him a moment before he jumped back into the water.” Ordus fidgets with a belt, not meeting my eye. “Our mother was furious. She forbade us from leaving the palace for a month and sent us to clean with the servants for a year. But the Council, they blamed me for it, said I corrupted Yannig’s mind and made him do it.” I suck in a sharp breath. “So, I was punished.”
His fingers hover above the scar on his ribs.
Oh, God.
Flashes of Tommy’s discipline assault me. Other than my wrist, he never left scars on my skin. My broken bones are another story altogether. “Punished?” I croak.
What did they do to Ordus that left a jagged, six-inch scar? On a fucking kid.
Ordus’ jaw is tight, body primed for a fight. Even the tentacle usually always touching me has recoiled away from me.
“A Council member—Lantoli—always disliked me. They all did, but he was the most vocal. He was biding his time, waiting for an excuse to—” He stops himself, skin pulsing and paling until he’s the same shade as the sand. “Lantoli convinced krakens I almost single-handedly caused the eradication of my species, that I was feeding humans information about our kind.”
He clenches his hands into fists. “Lantoli led a group of krakens to grab me as I was coming back from a hunt. They chained me to a large fishhook with the intention of dragging me to this island. Yannig found me before they could make it. My mother killed Lantoli and his conspirators, but the damage was done. They almost—” His voice breaks. “They almost succeeded.”
Ordus stares at the dagger in my grasp. It falls out of my hands like it’s poison. Why would they do that? What the fuck was wrong with them? “You were a child.”
He gives his head a single, stiff shake. “It does not matter. I was impure.”
What?
Impure
? That’s a load of bullshit. There’s nothing okay about harming a kid, monster or otherwise. “I don’t understand why they could hate a child so much.” Why is Ordus excusing their behavior? He sounds like Kristy, taking Tommy’s abuse by some misguided allusion it’s out of love or I might have somehow deserved it. “You did nothing wrong.”
“I did.” A growl breaks his voice, and my fear receptors stand on end. “I did many things wrong.”
“Like what? What could a thirteen-year-old have done?”
I was twenty-three when I met Tommy. What did I do to deserve it? “Did you give humans information? Were you trying to get your brother killed? How could you possibly be?—“
“Because I am a monster!” he snarls. Piles of treasure fly across the cave and crash around us. The vein in his temple pulses, his anger developing its own heartbeat. I stagger back to get away from him. The spike of fear ebbs away as soon as my sights land on the heavy rise and fall of his chest. His sharp teeth are on display, muscles rippling like he’s a hair away from striking. This is the first time he’s looked truly monstrous.
I’m not sure what shocks me more: the sudden outburst, or that the one constant feeling I’ve had for the past four years isn’t there. I’m not afraid. Not of him, at least.
That mustn’t be what he sees on my face, because he recoils, horrified of himself.
I step forward, close enough that his stray tentacle can wrap around me again. He moves back like he’s frightened he’ll hurt me.
“Ordus,” I say quietly. “I’ve met monsters. You are not one.”
“Look at me,” Ordus roars, pointing at his chest. “I am an abomination!”
I’ve lived under the same roof as one, shared meals with him and his even more abhorrent family. I know better than most what a monster looks like. After all, I fell into its trap.
“As it is in nature, the prettiest ones are the most poisonous. You are one of the most attractive men I have ever met, but you are far from poisonous.”
I hated that he wasn’t, confused at myself that I’ve stopped fighting him, that I look forward to nightfall so he can hold me, that he had me under him moments ago, and my blood heated with need.
“I want you to talk to me, Ordus.”
Ordus’ face contorts into a venomous scowl as he glares at me like I’m the reason for the reopened wound. “I took you from your home, almost killed you, cursed you to suffer on this island with me. Do not lie to me, Cindi,” he hisses. “I know what I am.”
Broken.
I don’t know why, but his words get to me. And the look of utter self-disgust? It lands on the wrong side of my brain, and it’s like everything explodes at the same time it comes into crystal clarity.
“Get over yourself,” I bite. I regret it the moment I say it, but I don’t back down. He can’t keep shutting me out if he expects me to stay.
Ordus rears back. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re a fucking asshole for what you’ve done and how you’ve gone about it—how you’re keeping me. Isolated. Alone. I need something other than a spoiled dog for company—one I can’t even speak to, by the way.” My voice keeps raising in volume until it suddenly drops, and it’s like trying to pry screwdrivers out of my flesh. “Despite all of that, everything you’ve done, I don’t hate you. I’m not lying awake at night wishing you were dead. I’ve spent every fucking day wanting you to just talk to me.”
I thought my husband was the most handsome man to ever walk this Earth, and I found out the hard way that he was the ugliest.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Any flaws you have are over what you’ve done, not because of your appearance. So get over yourself, Ordus.”
He shakes his head. I know he’s not listening to me, not hearing what I say. “My hands, Cindi. I have claws. My hair, my fingers, my arms, my head. It’s all wrong.”
“Why? If your nails were nicer, maybe people would like you more? If your arms were a little smaller, maybe people would take you more seriously?”
Ordus paces the small path, curling and uncurling his fists. “You do not understand.”
“No, I don’t. I’m fully aware I have no idea what it was like growing up in the sea, what type of cultural and social aspects are involved, but our minds are still the same. They’ve convinced you to hate your own reflection, and you have. What are you doing to change that?”
What am
I doing to fix all the things Tommy fucked up?
It wasn’t all Tommy’s fault. Something had to be misaligned in my brain that I let myself walk into that and did nothing to get myself out.
Maybe I was desperate for the love Dad had with Mom.
Maybe I was so used to Dad picking up after me, I didn’t know responsibility unless it slapped me in the face, and I figured someone else would clean whatever mess I got into.
Maybe it took me four years to figure out how to do things for myself.
Because that’s exactly what happened. Tommy swooped in with the job, the money, the house, the nice cars. He took me to the fancy restaurants and dressed me in the expensive clothes. I didn’t have to lift a goddamn finger, because Tommy did all the thinking for me. When to eat, when to sleep, who to talk to, when to fucking breathe.
It wasn’t even a slow progression. It practically happened overnight.
I stayed with Tommy because I…I thought I didn’t have a choice. Dad died, I lost all my friends, and I thought I was stuck. Grief turned me stagnant.
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