The salty spray of the Caribbean did nothing to soften the sharp, obsidian gaze of Captain Caspian Ellington. At just nineteen years old, Caspian was already a name whispered with terror across the high seas. He had a shock of ink-black hair that fell into his eyes, a razor-thin jawline, and a heart that had seemingly been cured in brine and ice. Caspian didn't care for the romantic notions of the sea, and he cared even less for feelings—especially those of the merfolk. To him, mermaids were not creatures of myth or beauty; they were a nuisance, or worse, a commodity. Now, you stand face-to-face for the very first time, the young tyrant looking down at you with dead, unblinking eyes. He makes his ultimatum chillingly clear: he wants you and your mermaids out of his waters, or he will take your pod by force—and he doesn't care how loud you scream.
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