CHAPTER 87: [87] WHAT FEAR TASTES LIKE

The dessert plates were cleared away, but the dinner continued. Valerio insisted they stay for one more glass of wine—a special vintage from his private collection. Pierre sensed it wasn’t really a request. Everything about this man was a command wrapped in the veneer of hospitality.

"Have I told you about the Meridian Oak?" Valerio asked, swirling amber liquid in his glass. "No? It’s quite a story."

Pierre watched Valerio’s hands as he spoke. They were perfectly manicured, not a callus or scar to be seen despite his claims of being a craftsman. These were the hands of someone who directed others to do the actual work.

"The Meridian Oak was supposed to be the centerpiece of the Marquis of Coral Bay’s new ship," Valerio continued. "A massive thing, nearly two hundred years old. Perfect for the main mast of a flagship vessel."

Servants moved silently around them, refilling glasses, adjusting the lighting as night fell outside. Pierre caught Raven’s eye across the table. She gave him a subtle nod, letting him know she was paying close attention to every detail of Valerio’s story.

"But when my men began to work with it, we discovered a flaw." Valerio’s voice dropped, as if sharing a tragedy. "Deep inside, where no one could see, the wood had begun to rot. A small imperfection, but one that would eventually spread, weakening the entire structure."

Alyssa shifted in her seat, her eyes darting between Valerio and Pierre. She’d abandoned any pretense of enjoying the evening, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"The Marquis insisted we use it anyway. Cover up the flaw, he said. No one would know." Valerio shook his head, genuine disgust crossing his features. "Can you imagine? Building something meant to withstand ocean storms on a foundation of hidden weakness?"

Pierre took a sip of his wine, letting the rich flavor coat his tongue. "What did you do?"

Valerio smiled, pleased by the question. "I broke it. Snapped the mighty Meridian Oak right in half." He made a sharp gesture with his hands. "The Marquis was furious, of course. Threatened to have me executed. But I showed him what I found inside—the rot, the weakness."

"And then?" Pierre asked, though he already knew where this story was heading.

"I reset it. Cut away the disease, reinforced the core with steel bands, and sealed it with my special resin. When I finished, that mast was stronger than it had ever been in nature." Pride gleamed in Valerio’s eyes. "The Marquis’s flagship has weathered three major hurricanes since then. The mast never even creaked."

The metaphor hung heavy in the air. Pierre felt Hardy’s darkness stir inside him, responding to the implied threat beneath Valerio’s polished words.

Valerio turned to Pierre, his eyes analytical. "Take you, for instance, Captain. So much fire, so much spirit. But wounded. Weakened." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Weakness must be carved away to make something truly strong. Don’t you agree?"

The darkness surged within Pierre, a tidal wave of rage and power that he’d been suppressing since his fight with Hardy. His hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles turning white.

How dare this man? This... collector of broken things? This sculptor of people’s lives?

The voice in his head—Hardy’s voice, but twisted by Pierre’s own hatred—whispered seductively: Take him. Drain him dry. Show him what true strength is.

Pierre fought against it, but the exhaustion of days spent resisting, combined with Valerio’s direct provocation, proved too much. For a split second, he lost control.

Heat rushed through Pierre’s body, turning his veins to fire. The world sharpened, colors intensifying until everything seemed to vibrate with unnatural clarity. His vision tinged red at the edges, like blood seeping into water.

The temperature in the dining room plummeted. The candle flames bent sideways, as if pushed by an invisible wind. The wine in Valerio’s glass rippled, tiny concentric circles spreading outward though no one had touched the table.

Valerio’s charming smile vanished. He jerked backward in his chair, eyes widening as he stared at Pierre. For that single moment, Pierre’s sky-blue eyes burned crimson, reflecting flames that existed nowhere except inside him.

"Pierre?" Alyssa’s voice sounded far away, concern cutting through her usual haughtiness.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come. Pierre wrestled the power back under control, forcing Hardy’s essence back into its cage deep within him. His eyes returned to their normal color, but the damage was done.

Valerio had seen it.

The dining room fell silent. Even the servants had frozen in place, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Raven’s hand had moved to her waist, where Pierre knew she kept a small dagger hidden in her clothes.

Valerio stared at Pierre, his expression a complex mixture of fear, fascination, and—most disturbing of all—hunger.

"My apologies," Valerio said softly, his smile returning, though it no longer reached his eyes. "I see I have... misjudged the quality of the material."

Pierre’s breathing steadied. The room gradually warmed again, the candles returning to their normal, steady glow. He reached for his wine glass, forcing his hand not to tremble.

"No apology necessary," Pierre replied, his voice rough. "We all have our... imperfections."

"Indeed." Valerio’s gaze never left Pierre’s face. "Though some imperfections are more interesting than others."

Raven cleared her throat. "What a fascinating dinner. Thank you for your hospitality, Master Valerio, but I think our captain needs rest. His recovery is still ongoing."

"Of course, of course." Valerio rose to his feet, making a show of concern. "How thoughtless of me to keep you so late. Please, allow me to escort you back to your quarters."

As they walked through the sprawling mansion, Pierre felt Valerio watching him intently. The man kept a careful distance now, as if Pierre were a wild animal that might lash out unexpectedly.

When they reached the guest wing, Valerio bowed deeply. "Rest well, my friends. We’ll speak again soon. I have so many new ideas for our collaboration."

The door closed behind him, leaving Pierre, Raven, and Alyssa alone in the lavish sitting room that connected their individual chambers.

"What the hell was that?" Raven hissed the moment they were alone.

Pierre sank into a chair, suddenly exhausted. The burst of power had drained him more than he’d expected. "Hardy’s darkness. It’s getting harder to control."

"I’ve never seen you do... whatever that was." Alyssa moved closer, her green eyes examining him as if seeing him for the first time. "Your eyes changed color."

"It’s the power I took from him," Pierre explained. "When I drain someone’s essence, I get more than just their strength. I get pieces of them. Their darkness. Their desires."

"Well, you scared our host half to death," Raven said, perching on the arm of a nearby sofa. "He looked like he’d seen a ghost."

Alyssa knelt beside Pierre’s chair, her usual imperious manner softening with concern. "Is it dangerous? For you, I mean."

Pierre met her gaze. "Yes. The more I gain, the more it changes me. The more I become like the people I’ve drained."

"That explains why you didn’t drain Moreau," Raven said thoughtfully. "Even when she had us trapped in that cave."

Pierre nodded. "I don’t want to become like her. Or like Hardy."

"What did it feel like?" Alyssa asked, curiosity overcoming her usual restraint. "When your eyes changed."

Pierre considered the question. "Power. Pure power. Like I could tear this whole building down with my bare hands." He looked at his palms, remembering the heat that had surged through them. "It felt good. That’s what makes it so dangerous."

Raven moved to the window, peering through the curtains at the moonlit gardens below. "You realize what this means, right? Valerio’s not going to let us leave now. Not after seeing that."

"I know." Pierre ran a hand through his red hair. "I gave him exactly what he wanted—proof that I’m something worth collecting."

"No," Alyssa said firmly, standing up. "You gave him something else, too."

Pierre looked up at her. "What’s that?"

"Fear." A small, satisfied smile played at the corners of Alyssa’s mouth. "I know that look. My father inspired it in his officers all the time. Valerio is afraid of you now."

"Fear can make people dangerous," Raven warned.

"It can also make them careless." Alyssa began to pace, her mind clearly working through possibilities. "He wants to control you, Pierre. Break you and reset you, like that oak tree in his story. But now he knows you’re not just some wounded pirate captain. You’re something else."

"Which means he’ll change his approach." Raven turned from the window. "He’ll try to isolate you, study you, figure out what makes you tick."

"And while he’s focused on me," Pierre said slowly, "you two might have more freedom to move around."

"Exactly." Alyssa’s eyes gleamed with the spark of a plan forming. "He’ll be watching you so carefully that Raven and I become secondary concerns."

"We can use that," Raven agreed, warming to the idea. "While he’s trying to figure out how to break you, we can work from the shadows."