JAMES
We left Foxhollow in the early morning hours two days later to much fanfare and tears—on May’s part at least—okay and maybe I let a few fall discretely too. Finding out my sister is alive and having to leave her again so soon, made it difficult for me for once, to sail away from port.
Night has fallen and I can’t bring myself to go below deck yet.
I lean over the rail of the forecastle, watching the dark water sparkle in the full moon.
The ocean at night makes me feel like I’m sailing in some alternate universe—where there’s no distinction between sea and sky.
Just an inky black landscape reflecting stars above and below.
I pull out a stick of tobacco, a guilty pleasure I don’t partake in often, but tonight is giving me a nostalgic feel and my mind is reeling with everything that’s happened the past few days.
Caspian and I had once again been pulled in different directions the last two days—even though we’d fucked again that night after the alley behind the Fox & Raven .
I’d had to oversee the repairs of the ship and he’d been off doing—whatever it was he did.
I still want to ask him about Foxhollow.
I’d just taken my first inhale when I feel his presence, like a physical force drawing me to him. Before I even turn around, he takes over my senses. I take a deep breath, not ready to admit it’s partially to wrap myself in his essence than to inhale the smoke.
“Committing treason,” I say as I exhale. “Now I know why you were flying the Black.”
I hear a huff of a laugh behind me and the whisper of fabric as he leans against the rail with me. The heat of him makes me conscious of where we’re closest.
“Yes, well, now you know why I called this situation delicate,” he says dryly.
“How long have you been leading a rebellion?”
“Okay, it’s not really a rebellion,” he insists.
“You’re shuttling refugees to a better life and funding it with your family’s coffers—it might not be violent, but I’d call that pretty damn close to a rebellion.”
Caspian sighs. “I suppose you’re right.” When I look at him questioningly, he shrugs, his shoulder brushing mine. “It just seemed like the right thing to do. It may have gotten a little out of hand.”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye in amusement.
“A little out of hand…” I echo.
I hand him the stick, the glowing ember at the end reflecting in his eyes as he meets my gaze. His lopsided smirk tugs at his lips. His hand touching mine is electric and our eyes lock.
“You’re a good man, Caspian,” I say, looking away.
Something I’ll never be, that’s for sure.
He scoffs, then inhales and blows out the smoke slowly. He turns, so he’s leaning backwards against the rail, his brow furrows as the amusement bleeds away.
“Good men don’t carry scars like mine,” he says quietly. He takes another hit and hands the smoke back to me, directing his exhale away from my face before he speaks. “Good men don’t have shadows that try to drag them into the dark.”
I take a hit and exhale out to sea, watching the swirls get yanked away by the wind and disappear.
“You pull people out of the shadows because you know the way. Maybe you’re supposed to have a foot in both—a bridge between two worlds.”
He looks out over the ship but I know he’s not seeing it. The silence stretches but it’s a comfortable one.
“Think you can keep my secret, Captain?” He says.
There’s humor in his tone but I can sense the underlying concern. I drag smoke into my lungs and flick the butt into the sea, watching the ember fade out before it even hits the surface.
“I think it’s safe to say this changes things,” I look at him with a glimmer of humor in my eyes and he lets out a quiet laugh.
“I was wondering when that would happen,” he muses. “Was it Foxhollow or the sex?”
I can’t help the quiet breath of a laugh that escapes. “Probably both.”
The snap of canvas and creak of rigging is a comfortable sound. I can tell he’s studying my profile. I glance over briefly and see him turn away with a private smile on his lips.
“What?”
He shakes his head, his smile widening. “I was breaking things off with Carter when you attacked me that night.”
I scoff. “Sure didn’t look like it,” I grumble.
Caspian shrugs. “We always knew it wasn’t quite right.”
When he sees my questioning look, he faces me, leaning his arm against the rail. He bites his lip like he’s debating how he wants to voice his thoughts. I see the moment he decides fuck it because his eyes darken into that sinful rebellion.
“He was everything I should want—he never pushed or challenged me—he was predictable. There weren’t any sharp edges to give me the taste of danger on my tongue and send my blood rushing, you know?”
I nod, understanding what he’s saying, because I’ve been feeling like that recently with people, like Celeste.
“But you,” Caspian is looking at me now with an intensity that heats my veins.
“You kiss me like you’re daring someone to stop you.
You taste like the sea, and danger, and my complete and utter ruin.
You look at me like you’re trying to burrow your way into my soul.
” He moves closer. “If I slip on your sharp edges—” He shrugs and his hand slides around my waist. “Some things I don’t mind bleeding for. ”
“You and that poetic tongue of yours.” I shake my head.
“It does a lot more than spill pretty words,” he says. “But you know that now.”
We come together effortlessly, his words ringing in my ears and vibrating in my bones.
My hand slips behind his neck, holding him close while our lips meet, moving over each other like a dance we already know the steps to.
I’m lost, completely gone in the heady provocation of his presence.
Consumed by his wild, untamed nature, so like my own that it calls to me.
He created a safe harbor for all those people—maybe he’s creating one for me too.