Chapter 8 #3
Nothing nefarious; she had no intention of screwing over her current allies.
Calya had loyalty, but it followed a hierarchy.
Seeing what the Sentinels were up to in the Landing, if such information was to be had, wasn’t meant to make things difficult for them.
But she had to be certain their business didn’t interfere with Helm Naval.
Careful not to jostle Lowe, who lay beside her, Calya sat up. The tiny porthole in his cabin was covered in salt spray, but what little she could see through the smudged glass told her it was still night. Late, given the darkness and the quiet.
Noticing the waterskin next to the bed, Calya grabbed it. A content sigh hummed at the back of her throat with her first swallow. Water had never tasted so good.
Belatedly realizing the noise she made, Calya glanced at Lowe. He didn’t react, his chest rising and falling with a steadiness that seemed too natural to be faked.
“Ranger,” she whispered. No response. “Lowe.”
He slept on.
Carefully, Calya slipped away from the bed. She peered down at him, trying to spot any change, to see if he became too still. Nothing. Good enough for her, so she hastened on. The ship felt more stable now, but she knew anything could come along at an instant to rouse him and ruin her plans.
She took another sip from the skin before replacing it on the ground.
And dismissing the thought of what the gesture said of him, and what it evoked in her.
Shied away from introspection, because as long as those feelings remained unexamined, she could pretend their existence was nothing more than flights of fancy.
Once they were admitted, they were real, and real things generally had to be dealt with, which was… unwanted, at this time.
Lowe’s pile of clothes was nearest to the bed.
Calya dug through it, unsurprised when she found nothing of note.
They’d been stuck on the ship for four days, so why bother toting anything interesting about?
She pulled his cloak around her shoulders to ward off the chill air, ignoring how the Kiss tried to nudge her mind back toward the six feet of ranger who could keep her warm.
She prowled through the cabin. Given it could be covered in just a handful of strides, it didn’t take long.
Lowe’s cabin was smaller and less furnished than her own.
No drawers or cabinets to rifle through.
Scant shelving was tucked into the odd angles created by the door leading to a shared washroom.
Lowe hadn’t unpacked at all, and Calya found his sole bag wedged next to the frame at the foot of the bed, half buried by a cast-off blanket.
Inside, she found a few spare clothes, an extra knife, and some kind of tool wrap made of oiled leather.
After a quick debate, she left it and its potentially noisy buckles alone.
Whatever his mission in the Landing was, perhaps the details were carried in his head rather than a bag.
As Calya replaced the blanket, something small slipped from where it had been caught in a fold. She grabbed it before it could fall to the floor, and the object bent under the force of her touch.
It was a steno pad similar to the one she carried, only this was even smaller, no larger than her palm.
After another quick glance Lowe’s way, Calya flipped the pad open and began skimming the pages.
Deciphering them was a chore. The lamp had burned down to embers, and Lowe seemed to think handwriting consisted of short, cramped lines, and the less shape to a letter the better.
Calya had started to think the notes were written in code until she spied familiar wording.
AG + SU res – site share?
AG sus invlvmt. HNE prob cover.
CH- Ambitious, reckless. Do not trust—
Calya knew the Sentinels were looking into suspicious messages from a Sylveren research group stationed at the Landing.
It was a small comfort to know that Helm Naval wasn’t suspected of nefarious dealings, presuming she’d interpreted his scrawl correctly.
Less a comfort to know that they might be being used by Brint.
The words about Calya herself were… true. She’d have said the same. Yet, to know they came from Lowe’s hand left a bitterness in her mouth.
Tucking the pad back into the blanket, she returned to the bed, hesitating at its edge. Lowe lay on his back, one hand resting atop his ribs. Even in sleep, his features held on to the remnants of a scowl.
Ambitious, reckless. Do not trust.
He was right not to. She knew it, and still, Calya wished, just a little, that she could prove to him…
not that he was wrong, but that she was more than those words.
A small part of her saw this gruff ranger whose path kept crossing her life and wanted to take it as a sign.
Wanted to let him in. Wanted him to see through her thorns.
Disgust with herself rose up. Calya nearly voiced it before remembering to stay quiet.
Gods all break, clearly the aphrodisiac was wreaking havoc on her hormones for her to be entertaining such sentimental drivel.
Lowe was nice to look at, and equally nice to ride.
He might be a joyless grump, but he wasn’t a stingy partner.
Quite the opposite. Definitely a better choice for the storm than Orren.
Calya tugged down the blanket draped over his bottom half, exposing his groin.
Yep. Very nice, in looks and feel.
The Kiss reminded her that there were other senses yet to be assessed. Plenty of nighttime left, and actually, no longer a need for silence.
Calya slid back onto the bed. She drew her finger along the length of his shaft, smirking to herself when Lowe stirred.
Easing down next to him, she took his cock into her mouth. Slowly sucked her way down until her nose just started to tickle the trail of hairs leading to his groin. She hummed as his cock began to harden, forcing her lips farther apart.
Lowe jerked awake, groping along the sheets. One hand caught in her hair, but she brushed him away, giving him another lazy suck.
“Calya, what are…” Lowe mumbled, groggy with sleep.
Nice to know he hadn’t been faking it, the secret of her nocturnal adventures safe.
She released his cock with a wet pop. “Do you remember my ground rules?” she asked, tongue tracing the head of his cock. “I asked for two orgasms.”
Calya met his gaze as her lips reached out to kiss away the bead of arousal forming at his slit.
“You gave me three.”