Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
I reach up and wipe a tear from his cheek; he leans into my touch.
‘We truly are a messed-up pair,’ I chuckle softly through the tears.
A light laugh escapes him, and he returns the favour, using his thumb to swipe the wetness from my face.
I lean my cheek into his palm, bringing my hand up to hold his, the warmth of him leaking into me.
‘There’s really nothing we could do to make matters worse.’
‘Nothing at all? Not even if I scalded you in the arm? Or if you made me believe I fell down a ladder and broke a bone?’
He waves it off. ‘Been there, done that.’
He holds my head again, bringing our foreheads together. We stare into the depths of each other, the complexities of our turmoil, our existence.
Longing, wanting, needing. Everything that has held us at a distance from one another is now pushing us together, tempting us to consider and forget and be grateful for it all.
Because all of that was then, and all of this is now. We can hate each other, we can want each other. We can remember everything that came before, and we can move on knowing, changed by it.
For once, we can let ourselves live, despite it all.
‘After all, you can’t break what’s already broken,’ he whispers, a ghost of a smile there on his lips.
I smile at him too, the saltiness of my tears a mere reminder of the vulnerability of the moment.
‘We can certainly try.’
‘Challenge accepted.’
And we fall into the depths of each other.
All harsh lips and tangled tongues. Hungry mouths searching for something to satiate the overpowering need for something – anything – that will bring us closer, that will distract us from the pain, the fear, the worry.
Fuelled by little hatred, and something new and scorching and desperate, we have no reason to deny ourselves the taste of escapism, of an exploration of what might have been.
His hands find my waist, pulling me into his body, holding me tight as passion leads the way.
The kiss is as intoxicating as the strongest ale, my hands in his hair, fingers tangled up in his curls as our heads move in one fluid and coordinated motion.
Like we’ve done this before. Like we can predict the other’s move and act accordingly in advance, reaching an understanding of each other that we didn’t know we could.
An understanding that we do not understand, and that we will go on regardless.
We only part for reluctant gasps of air, cursing under our breaths of the inconvenience of it. Because every moment we aren’t kissing, is a moment wasted. And we have wasted enough.
He grabs my thighs, hoisting me up to his waist, which I wrap my legs around obediently. Clinging to him with everything I have, his hands on my buttocks, exploring the curves of my waist, my hips and everything possible.
We start to move backwards, and I come up for air, looking to him.
‘Where are we going?’ I whisper into his ear.
‘My cabin.’
‘You have a cabin?’
‘Surely, you didn’t think I wouldn’t have a cabin on my own ship.’
‘I’m more annoyed that I wasn’t offered one too. You have the Princess of Reyhen sleeping on a bed of straw in the orlop.’
He rolls his eyes playfully, carrying me up the creaking wooden stairs. ‘So entitled, Princess.’
‘So deserving,' I correct, bringing my lips to his ear and nipping gently at his lobe. I still haven’t sobered from the ale.
Upon reaching his cabin, he carries me over the threshold and kicks the door closed behind us.
The room is quaint, with a tiny desk in the corner, under which the two trunks of luggage we brought with us are tucked away.
There is little else apart from strewn papers, stray books and the bed.
The very small, wooden bed which he sets me in front of. I look up at him with confusion.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Turn around,’ he demands, eyes dark and ravenous. Gods help me. ‘Just do it.’ His voice is low and gravely, subtly commanding.
I nod, and obey, my back now to him, my breathing frantic with apprehension. His hands do not touch me at all, instead, I feel the laces of my dress loosen from my body, until I am able to step out of it, down to the boring white chemise.
Instinct makes me take my hand up to my chest, to cover myself, looking back at him, unsure of what comes next.
He is undressing himself, to some extent, shedding himself of his coat, his boots, any outer layers of clothing until he stands there, devouring the sight of me in nothing but his underwear, the taut, bare muscles of his torso flexing as he throws it all aside.
‘Sit,’ he says. And I sit, my eyes trailing him as he crouches down on the floor before me, head level to my chest, eyes fixed intently on mine. I reach out a hand to him, running my fingers through the tangles of his hair.
‘Eliaz—’ is all that becomes audible of my question of what he’s doing. He answers by undoing the laces of my boots and gently pulling my feet free.
‘Lie down.’ Heartbeats barely countable now, I pull back the rough cotton sheets, and lie down as asked, dark hair loose all around the pillow, observing him as he does the same, his body heat immediately seeping into the cold of the bed. Of me.
He props himself on his side, all the bed really allows for, and strokes my cheek with the back of his palm, taking in every inch of my face, as though there’s a chance he might miss something. Like he wants to know and remember it all. Every pore, every crease, every freckle.
‘So captivating.’ Then he kisses me again, unhurried and savouring this time, his hand snaking over my waist, my body arching towards him. The magnetic pull of him. His lips are slow and considerate, gentle in their caress of mine, and we melt together.
For a moment, I forget the crashing of the seas, the crumbling of kingdoms, the pain of what came before. It is only this cabin that exists, holding us together, suspended in the blissful nothing that surrounds it.
Then he pulls away. Not for air, not to move or crash together once again.
Instead, he lays his head on the pillow, eyes weary and full, dim and contented. My brows furrow as I adjust myself to look at him comfortably, pushing down my disappointment and the embarrassment of having expected something more.
‘Everything okay?’
He blinks slowly, hand still there on my waist, thumb stroking me there. ‘Not at all. But that’s what’s brought us here, isn’t it?’
‘You know what I mean, Eliaz. I just thought you wanted… more from me.’
He shuffles closer, pulling me in so that my head rests against his chest, the thump of his heart pulsing there in my ears. I breathe in the smell of smoke, and honey and the sea. He holds me tighter.
‘This is all I want. All I need from you.’ He rests his chin on my head. ‘Above all else, this is what we need from each other most tonight.’
‘If you say so,’ I yawn, drowsy from the warmth of him. His body shakes lightly with a laugh.
‘So entitled, Princess.’
I close my eyes, smiling to myself.
And we are so deserving of this, King.