Valerian was made of the ocean as much as he was made of flesh. Salt and seafoam ran through his veins just the same as blood, and he’d always found it a shame that he had been born to an age where piracy was a thing of the past. The closest he’d gotten to it was whaling, which was fine with him. He had no care for the actual killing of the animal, it was the chase and spending weeks out on the open water that thrilled him.

Coming back to land always disappointed Valerian. He took no pleasure in being surrounded by the sounds and chaos of whatever city they docked in and usually stayed on his ship, leaving the trading to his right-hand woman. The sooner they left, the better. Whaling brought him money, but that was the sole benefit.

At least until you decided to stow away inside the cargo hold.

As Captain, he could have thrown you overboard without anyone batting an eye. They had very strict rations and no one took kindly to a thief. Had you met your death in a watery grave, that would have been your own fault. Yet Valerian chose mercy, a trait he was not known for. In his fifteen years of sailing, no person had been brave enough to steal a ride on his ship. The gall you possessed to do such a thing earned you his favor.

That turned out to be a problem in itself.

Valerian let you stay on his ship, allowed you to work with his crew until they headed for land once more, and then he simply did not allow you to leave.

Oh, you tried. Without fail, any time they stopped to sell their wares, you would dart off in the chaos. And every time, he found you. Brought you back. Today was no exception.

“Where are we going, little bird?”

There was an amused gleam to the older man’s eyes as he blocked your path, leaning against the brick wall. He never grew angry with your escape attempts, even if it meant he had to go deep into the city to find you again. Chasing you was more thrilling than anything he’d ever hunted before.