Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five*
Killian
He kissed me, he… fuck. It was to make a point, but he kissed me.
I almost missed one of the crew members walking down this hallway.
There is too much going on, too much unsaid for my crew to see me pressing the human they are just now starting to accept against the wall, kissing him like he was my only source of oxygen.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I pull back, and then he shivers. He fucking shivers at the loss of contact, and I am not even an inch away from saying “fuck it” and just kissing him without paying any mind to who sees us together.
“Listen,” I whisper, and his pupils shrink back, revealing more of the golden amber surrounding them.
He nods, the rigidness in his posture softening as he follows me to the ballast water.
Where after sharing a kiss like that without talking about it, we will now both strip down to our underwear.
This is either the dumbest or the smartest idea ever.
That and the plan inspired by Seviin. But I am unable to think about that now.
Not with imagining James in just his underwear.
“I meant well…”
His words take me by surprise, and for a second, I don’t understand how kissing me could not be meant well.
Somehow the kiss has erased the conversation that prompted me to cage him against the wall, like the savage he deemed me to be when we first met, from my mind.
Until it slowly dawns on me that he meant well when he told me he was sure my parents love me enough to welcome me back home.
Especially after rescuing their daughter.
How can he know what a scarcity love is in Veridian Vale?
How reputation and status are more important.
“I know, I overreacted. Maybe you haven’t noticed yet, but I have a bit of a temper,” I say with a self-decrepitating chuckle.
“Well, better to have a temper than to be a manipulative piece of shit turning your exes into brownies,” he says.
A clear attempt to cheer me up, and man does it work.
He just compared me to Peter, and he painted me in a far better light.
He sees my flaw, as something you would prefer to that of the goat he thought to be his fated mate.
Ten minutes later we’re in the ballast tank.
There is a wooden platform surrounding the body of water, a place with the levers to adjust the water levels.
It’s not much, but it is enough to place our clothes.
And the ladder going down into the water, normally used to clean out the tank when it’s empty, ensures James doesn’t have to jump in.
After our kiss minutes ago, I am avoiding looking at him like the plague.
Not because I don’t want to see him in just his underwear again, but because I genuinely want to teach him how to swim.
It started out as an olive branch, a way to spend some time with him without arguing, time to show him he could trust me.
It was only when he told me he always wanted to learn how to swim but had never been able to that this became so important to me.
I am still hoping that with him I will find a way to get to Peter, get Celeste back to her fae form and rescue her and James’ brothers.
All with the bittersweet goal of letting him return home.
No matter how much I have been feeling like I don’t want him to go home lately, I know there is nothing for him here.
Let alone Veridian Vale, if my parents do let me get back home.
Now the idea that I might be able to gift him the joy of swimming, imagining him thinking about me every time he goes swimming, is too good of a feeling to mess this up just because he is hot.
“Want me to go in first so I can catch you as you go down the ladder?” I ask, still staring at the water in the tank, now undressed to only my underwear.
“Sure, if it’s not too much of an effort.” Shit, I can feel the distance between us, not just the physical distance because I am no longer pressed up against him. But the cold distance in his voice, as he suddenly talks to me like we are suddenly strangers again. Fucking hell, why is this so hard.
“Of course not, darling, I want to teach you how to swim, I offered it myself,” I say, realizing just how hollow this truth sounds.
He doesn’t comment on it; he doesn’t tell me why there is such a distance between us suddenly.
All he does is nod, now staring at the water too, like he is waiting for me to get in. So I do.
The water is cool, but not as cold as the ocean.
There is too much heat generated on this ship for the water to truly feel cold, yet my skin tingles after I dive in.
“The water feels a little cold, but I promise you it will get better the longer you are in the water,” I warn him, not wanting him to startle when he gets into the water.
I position myself under the ladder, ready to catch him if he falls or hopefully instruct him as soon as he gets in.
Meaning I now have a perfect view of that full, curvy body coming down the ladder, slightly bent over, his back arched, and ass pushed out slightly.
Not even the cool water lapping at my skin can make me feel less flushed.
“Okay, just hold on to the ladder. Can I touch you?” James shakes his head at my question, more amused than dismissive.
“No, Captain, I am okay with you kidnapping me, strangling me, kissing me. Touching me during swimming lessons is where I draw the line,” he says chuckling.
“You’re a fucking brat,” I retort, not at all as annoyed as I wanted it to sound.
I position myself next to him so I can support him as needed.
“Come on, push yourself up till you’re flat in the water holding the ladder, so nothing will happen.
” One of my hands is hovering near his waist, ready to push him up, stabilize him, or just sneak a touch in.
He does as I say, and it’s thrilling because he shows he trusts me.
He is biting his bottom lip in concentration, and I am struggling not to pull his lip out from under his teeth and kiss him again, here in the ballast tank, as the cool water caresses our bodies.
“Perfect, now bring your heels to your ass, keep the soles up just like so,” I tell him, moving his legs to show him what I mean.
“I think I am ready to try it without you holding me,” James tells me after about an hour of practicing the breaststroke.
He is a quick learner, or he has a natural skill for swimming because he is picking it up easily.
Reluctantly, I let go of him, floating back a little, giving him the space to swim on his own like he asked for.
“Oh, this is harder than I thought,” he almost squeaks out for a hot second before bobbing under the water.
My stomach turns to lead as I swim over to him, but just as I am about to pull him up, he bobs up.
“Shit, did you think I was drowning,” he asks, and he seems genuinely confused.
“You told me how to push myself up when I went underwater.
I just wanted to give my arms a break. I have been trying this for an hour, and as you can see I am not used to exercising this much, let alone swimming. “
Angry not just at him but at myself for panicking like this, when I indeed was the one who taught him how to push himself back up to the water’s surface and how to make sure he would stay afloat.
And then there is the jab about his size again.
At first, I thought he was trying to act sad, hoping to get pity, to appear weaker than he really is.
“Yes, I thought you were drowning. You can’t just give your arms a rest mid-swim you idiot. And for the love of all things holy, can you stop with the fat jokes. You look fucking amazing, and you know you do.” I know I am shouting, but I am utterly done.
Done with pretending he is nothing more than a prisoner to me.
Done with ignoring the feelings that have been growing for him.
Done with being strong. Done pretending I still have hope to get Celeste out of here in her old form.
Him pretending, or worse, maybe actually believing he is less because of how he looks, is the last drop.
“Get a grip. There is no need to scream at me. I appreciate the swimming lessons more than you know. But don’t pretend we suddenly care about each other.” His words strike me deeper than any blade has ever done.
“Swimming lesson is over. You won’t drown. That is all I wanted to accomplish, and we did. Get out, get dry and go do whatever the fuck it is you do back in your hut.”
I want to swim to the ladder and get out of the water, but I can’t, not without making sure he is out of it first. If his arms are really that tired and he falls back into the water, he might not be able to remember what I taught him about pushing himself back up.
“Killian…” He swims towards me, but he falters, doesn’t speak.
My name rolled off his lips, soft, hurt, apologizing, but he isn’t saying anything. He is just staring at me.
“Get out of the water, James.” It is a command and a plea all wrapped in one, a command to get himself to safety and a plea to see I need to be alone.
That I can’t be in the same room as him, with the body he seems to hate so much, the body that I want to celebrate every single inch of, and thank the elements there are a lot of inches to explore on that body.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Thank you for teaching me how to swim…
I just wanted to be underwater once without fearing for my life.
I understand I can’t stop mid-swim. I am not that stupid, Killian.
” He is trying—he is really apologizing—but I can’t accept it.
Hell, I cannot even acknowledge his words because right now I feel too raw to let him in.
“Just get out of the water, James. Just do as you’re told for once. ”