Chapter 18 Lyx
EIGHTEEN
Lyx
Slow. Deep. Languid.
Heat branches through Lyx’s body. She doesn’t know why the words get to her.
For a moment, she lets herself imagine it.
Cav’s hips rolling against hers, their bodies pressed together, gasps hot against each other’s mouths — but it’s too simple.
Too mild. Too tame. It’s nothing compared to what she wants to do to him.
The thought splashes her face like ice cold water, her teeth digging into her cheek to taste the blood.
No matter what Cav says, he doesn’t understand the words he says.
Not like she can. She is a creature born of extremity.
She has seen how slowly the ocean devours a shipwreck, keeping it suspended in time.
She has swum deeper than any land dweller can, until their lungs would collapse and their hearts would burst. Even then, she’s never reached the bottom of the sea.
Cav cannot imagine her hunger. It would be too much for him.
Resolutely, she turns back to the board.
She knew better than to entertain these thoughts.
The darts dig into her palm, a reminder forcing her to focus.
There is a purpose to this game, and it has nothing to do with Cav.
Winning will give her the information she’s after. Everything else is secondary.
The darts land exactly where she needs them, leaving her one spot behind Cav. His frivolity is gone. It’s like he’s still stuck on the words from before, images whirring behind the glassy look in his eyes.
Slow. Deep. Languid.
He moves toward the board and reaches for the highest dart. When his arm overextends, he winces but says nothing, rotating his shoulder as he settles into place beside her.
She doesn’t look at him when she speaks. “If it’s too much, you can forfeit now.”
“Keeping an eye on me?”
“It’s painfully obvious.”
He adjusts his footing and lifts his wounded arm, lips pressed into a thin line. Still, he throws. “It never healed right.” The dart lands low on the tree, missing the board entirely. He shakes his head and lifts his arm again. “And I’ve been putting it through the wringer lately.”
The dart lands lopsided on the board, tilting the same way her mind does. She remembers the crow’s nest. His tongue molded to her clit, her grinding against his face, her knee momentarily pressing into his shoulder.
“Don’t get me wrong, it was well worth the strain.
” His tongue slides over his lips like he can still taste her.
“I forget that I can’t do things as freely as I used to.
” For the final dart, he shifts to his stronger hand.
When he throws, the dart swings wide, but it lands with a certain thwack exactly where he wanted it.
“I guess I don’t really want to remember. ”
“Is that why —” She stops herself. There’s no reason to ask him questions. She shouldn’t remember these insignificant details, but they’re trapped in her mind like seaweed tangled in a net. “Is that why you’re not on a convoy anymore?”
While she takes her turn, Cav flicks a seed across the table. “After the grotto, things were different. The shipwreck took a toll on my body.” He rolls another seed beneath his finger. “I tried other work, but no one would keep me onboard for long. I couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t pull my weight.”
His usually-sunny face has become muddled, a dark cloud drifting across his expression. Lyx has the sudden urge to blow it away. He doesn’t look at her, staring past the trees surrounding them. It’s easier to watch him like this, when he isn’t looking at her like he sees something she’s hiding.
The game goes on. It takes a bit before he turns to her again. “I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that. All those sentimental emotions.”
She shakes her head.
“It is a bit strange you don’t feel them, though,” Cav wonders aloud, running a hand along one of his horns. “Because what’s more chaotic than emotion?”
She’s not sure where her dart lands. Her mind is too jarred by the question. It’s staggering in its simplicity. Why wouldn’t sirens feel the chaos of sentimentality? It’s a thought that’s never occurred to her, but now that it’s here, her body feels hot and wrong.
She shakes the thoughts from her head. She doesn’t need to question it. She knows it’s true. It always has been. Every siren knows that. “We don’t need to feel them. We need to feed on them.”
The answer washes over her like a sudden tide, pulling her where she wants to go. She clings to it like it might carry her past Cav’s inquisitive eyes, but he knows he’s onto something, pushing off the table to step closer.
“What about your ex? You felt something for him. Enough that you were…together.”
Lyx shrugs. “Passion.”
“Is that all?”
“What else is there?” She can’t help but laugh. “All ‘relationships’ are exchanges. You give something to get something. It’s an agreement — not unlike the one we have.”
Cav’s gaze drifts over her face. His look is so soft that Lyx digs her nails into her palms to keep from reaching out. She doesn’t need whatever that look is. It’s too fragile. Too breakable. “What is passion to you?” he finally asks.
She scoffs. Isn’t it obvious? “It’s…desire and disgust.” That’s how she feels about Tidus. That’s how she feels about every pirate who came before him. “Screaming. Fighting. Fucking.” Memories play on a loop behind her eyes and stoke her anger. “It’s want. It’s hate. It’s both.”
It’s exactly what she’s always felt, exactly what she needs to survive, but Cav’s expression hasn’t changed. “What if it was something else?”
A strange feeling flounders in her gut, like a fish out of water. Passion is chaos. She, of all people, should understand that, but Cav’s question flashes like a lure tempting her closer.
“What if passion wasn’t a storm?” he murmurs. “What if it was the eye inside of it?”
Electricity crackles down her spine. What he says doesn’t make any sense. Passion is unruly, uncontrollable, wild, yet the feeling he describes sounds just as strong. Just as fervent. Just as intense.
Like the way he looks at her, heart glowing through his chest. “The North Star guiding you. The moon pulling the tides. The thing you chase through everything else.”
Her entire body is aflame, burning under Cav’s attention. Is this what it’s like to be set on fire?
She can’t think like this. The questions Cav asks are…confusing. Unnecessary. She can’t explain them away in this moment, but she knows he’s wrong. He can’t be right. Her mouth is dry. “I need another drink.”
Cav pushes off of the table. “I can –”
“Play your turn.” She steps back toward the bar, keeping her eyes on Cav until he returns to the dartboard. Only then does she veer away, slipping past the other patrons toward the entrance.
Foliage slaps her arms as she pushes toward the beach. She doesn’t follow the path, bursting through the greenery to a spot where she can’t see anyone. With one hand, she braces against a tree trunk and tries to steady her breathing.
What’s happening to her? Her scales lift on end. Her mind is dizzy. There’s no reason she should feel like this. It was a simple conversation, yet Cav’s words thrum through her.
The thing you chase through everything else.
A hand clamps around her wrist. “Why the fuck are you off the Indulgence?” Tidus hisses.
She tries to pull away, but it grinds the bones in her arm together. Instinctively, she searches over his shoulder for — what? Someone to save her? That’s foolish. The plants obscure everything, and Tidus makes sure of that when he pulls her deeper into the flora.
It grows darker around them, leaves dragging over her skin like a tide moving past her. She fights down the anxious fluttering in her stomach. “I’m working on your errand,” she whispers. “Remember? The one you insisted on.”
Tidus doesn’t stop tugging until her skin is raw, until they’re far away from anyone else.
“Certainly looked like you’re working on something.
” Despite his anger, his voice turns saccharine with mockery.
“Cozying up to your little hero?” When Lyx shifts away, he ropes an arm around her waist to force her close, his breath hot and stale with ale.
“Are you forgetting what you’re here for? ”
“You sent me here,” she snaps. “You told me to do whatever I had to —”
She cuts off in a gasp when he bends her wrist backward.
Her knees threaten to buckle, mind pinging with pain as she breathes through her nose.
Use your fucking head. There is no reasoning with Tidus.
She knows that; she’s always known that.
He enjoys tormenting her. No matter what she does, she’ll be wrong until he’s satisfied, and he won’t be satisfied until he has what he wants.
She clamps her hand around her wrist to steady it. “I’m trying…” The shell in Tidus’s chest flickers with distress. Focus, she reminds herself. Focus on that. “I’m trying to get what you want. But it’s not like they’ll just tell me; they don’t trust me.”
Tidus’s grip scrapes against her. “And whose fault is that?”
She can’t move. Can’t escape. Chaos funnels into her throat, thick as smoke clogging her lungs. When he leans closer, her arm trembles from the effort to keep it in place. “They’ve seen your ship!”
She’s not sure where the lie comes from, but it’s desperate enough to be believed. Tidus doesn’t loosen his hold, but he does pause.
“They think someone’s following the Indulgence,” she pants. The story weaves together in a flurry. “You need to keep your distance. Avoid the next few islands. Stay out of sight.”
He tightens his fingers. “You do not tell me what happens here.” But his gaze darts toward the far end of the island where his flag waves at the top of the mast. Finally, he shoves her away.
“Fine. Get back to your boytoy.” He grabs her chin and jerks her eyes to his.
“You have a week. You’d better bring me something, or our next conversation won’t be so pleasant. ”
He thrusts her away and stalks off between the trees. The twinge in her throat grows with every step he takes, but it pales in comparison to the sharp pain of her wrist. She winces as she inspects it, tugging down her sleeve to cover the angry mark.
As always, Tidus has fed her well. Her skin is glowing, but her body is bloated and gorged to the point of sickness. She starts to move, but the nausea forces her to brace one hand on her knees while she heaves.
Once she’s through, she wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve and ignores the sour stench. As much as she despises Tidus, this is a wake-up call. She’s been distracted. She’s taking time she doesn’t have to fall into silly caprices with Cav. That is not what she’s here for.
By the end of the week, she will have something for Tidus. She’ll have something to get her closer to her song.
Gritting her teeth, she makes her way back along the trail. Cav is exactly where she left him, balancing the tip of a dart on his finger. When he sees her, his face brightens. “Don’t tell me you were trying to hide from losing. I got you another —”
“Forget it.” She snatches up her darts and jerks her chin toward the board. “Is that where you landed?”
If it is, he’s made it completely around the circle. He’s won.
Something leaden settles in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how close to the end they were, but Cav slides toward her. “Technically, I finished, but let’s keep it interesting.” The sweet scent of his breath wafts around her. “If you can catch me on this turn, the win is yours.”
Lyx keeps her eyes ahead and digs her heels into the dirt.
It’s the only chance she has. She lines up her shot, exhaling slowly when she throws.
The dart lands exactly where it needs it to.
Impressed, Cav lifts a brow, but Lyx doesn’t look toward him.
She turns the second dart over in her hand before she sends it flying.
It lands perfectly.
Cav’s posture straightens. “Damn.”
The final dart is heavy between her fingers. Its red feathers tease her cheek as she lifts it toward her face. One shot, and she’ll get what she’s after. She’ll have answers. She’ll have what she needs.
But what would she have if she lost?
It’s a traitorous thought. Her head jerks like that will shake it away, but it’s still there. What is her fantasy? Nothing Cav can offer her is worth losing this game, but there is something she’s always wondered. Something she could only pretend at. Something she’ll never be able to experience.
It’s impossible. There is no scene Cav could weave to fool her, no way that he could fuck her to make her feel a scrap of whatever he believes in…but she does wonder what it would be like, being loved by someone.
It has always eluded her. For most of her life, she never thought more of it. It never crossed her mind. She didn’t want it, and she still doesn’t, but she is curious. What would he say? How would he look at her? Would it feel different than every other time she’s been touched?
It’s a pointless notion, so puerile that it brings a smile to her lips. He’s not capable of convincing her, and she’s not capable of understanding it. It’s trivial and inconsequential.
With a steadying breath, she throws the final dart. It sails to the board and lands directly next to Cav’s – but hers is just outside the double ring.
Her arm falls back to her side. It can’t be right. She crosses all the way to the tree before she’s forced to admit it. Her dart has landed a centimeter off. She’s outside the bounds of the board.
The throw doesn’t score. She loses.
Her chest tightens. She hadn’t meant to lose. It was a fleeting thought, an inane contemplation, not something she’d actually considered.
When she turns, Cav looks equally surprised, but he clamps his mouth shut when he sees her face. “Hey, it’s not so bad.” His expression is encouraging, like he can sense her devastation. “You still get something out of it, right?”
Without a word, she brushes past him, flexing her wrist until it aches.