8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Charon
He let me touch him.
That's all I can think about as I direct the boat closer to the fresh waterfall, turning us port side until the bow passes just below the current.
He let me touch him, and he touched me. My palms still tingle from the feeling of his warm thighs beneath them. Does this mean he's no longer scared of me? Does he trust me?
My chest tightens painfully at the thought of how much I want that.
Water cascades onto the boat, soaking the floor before draining beneath the railing.
Letting go of the tiller, I head toward a group of barrels near the railing and start filling one up, keeping Hector in my periphery as he gazes at the sunset glittering off the river.
His curls blow gently in the wind, covering his brow, and he brushes them away with a somewhat wistful expression.
I wonder what he's thinking about. I wish I could tell him everything on my mind.
Nyx caws on my shoulder, causing him to snap his attention toward us, and he uses the railing for balance as he hops over. He needs something to help get around. I glance at the branches I've gathered near the cabin doors, hoping to rectify that for him tonight.
“Is this for drinking?” he asks, gesturing toward the barrel.
I nod before mimicking the act of eating with my hands. Drinking and eating.
His nose scrunches, accentuating the freckles dotting his cheeks as he studies the tinted water. “It’s clearer than the pond near Aster’s Hollow, I suppose, but you'll still have to sterilize it.”
I simply nod again, watching him closely.
Something about his expression enthralls me and I can't make heads or tails of it.
Maybe it's because he’s small, yet fierce, like an alley cat.
Or maybe it's because I'm surrounded by the Judge’s soldiers who mutilate themselves for fun. Either way, Hector is… pure. Whole.
Well. Minus the foot.
When the barrel begins to overflow, I reach for the next one, turning back in time to watch him try to push the full one out of the way. He grunts, almost falling over when he uses too much force, and I wrap my arm around his waist to hold him steady.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, slipping out of my grasp. His eyes scan six more. “You're filling all of these? ”
I dip my chin and point to Zone T in the distance, far enough away that its towers are barely visible above the tree line, hoping he understands.
Hector's eyes darken when he follows my finger. “You're doing this for them . The soldiers and the Judge.” There's an accusatory tone to his voice that rankles me. “How often?”
I hold up three fingers, for three times a month, but I'm not sure if he understands.
He glares down into the rapidly filling barrel for a quiet moment. “Why would you do that? He hurts people like me. Why are you helping him?”
All I can do is stare, because how can I begin to explain without words? Without something to write with? He mentioned that he can't read, so there'd be no point in that anyway. I have no way of making him see .
Unless…
Swallowing hard, I reach for his hand, too fast, making him flinch. But he doesn’t pull away as I lift it gently between us, pressing my lips to the center of his palm. As clearly as my ruined throat will allow, I whisper into his skin, words shaped more from breath than voice. "They'll kill me."
The sound scrapes painfully out like gravel. His fingers twitch against mine, and I repeat it, slower this time. “They'll... kill... me.”
Hector's brows draw together, something breaking in his eyes when he pulls his hand back.
“They kill all of us eventually.” His words hang bitter in the air as he drags a hand through his hair squares his shoulders.
“I just thought you were different. But you're still a monster, just like they say. ”
My heart cracks when I take a step closer, but he backs up, shaking his head.
“I wanted you to be different.”
And with that, he turns away, hopping down into the cabin without another word.
I let him go, not because I want to— fuck , I don’t—but because I don’t know how to stop him. The weight of what I can’t say festers behind my ribs as I stare at the spot where he stood, wishing he'd come back and talk to me. Look at me again like I'm not a monster.
He trusted me enough to lift him onto my shoulders, but did I just lose that trust? Did I ruin it?
I don’t have an answer. Not one I can live with, anyway, so I turn back to the task at hand. Once each barrel is full, I seal them tight for delivery, keeping one for myself.
Then I strip off my clothes and step under the falls, barely flinching when the cold hits my skin.
Bathing in the river is out of the question—too full of rotting bodies and waste from the prison.
It's why no one crosses it, unless I take them by boat, but the waterfall is cleaner.
Still tinted from the rain, but nowhere near the sludge that surrounds Zone T.
I wash the blood and sweat from my body beneath the rushing water, hunching my shoulders to ward off the shame. Frigid water burns my skin.
If only it could wash the filth from my soul, too.
Later, once the stars have begun to shine overhead, I creep down into the cabin with quiet, practiced steps. The less noise I make at night, the less chance a biter tries to test my patience by trying to climb on board.
My book waits where I stashed it, and I slip it free from my nightstand, hugging the soft leather to my chest. When I step back into the galley, intent on reading under the moonlight, movement down the hall catches my eye.
I turn to spot Hector curled on his bench, blanket half-kicked off in his sleep. One leg hangs limply over the edge, his curls a mess, plush lips parted as he breathes through his mouth.
My throat tightens at the sight. I shouldn’t watch him sleep…but I do.
He’s beautiful like this, completely unguarded and relaxed. A slight sound escapes him, almost like a sigh as he shifts, brows twitching like he’s caught in a dream.
Stepping forward before I can stop myself, I lay the blanket gently back over his hip. My fingers pause a beat too long on the fabric, craving to touch him, even if he’ll never know.
“You're still a monster, just like they say,” he'd said earlier. Maybe I am.
My knees hit the floor beside the bench, and I set the book down to let my fingers hover over him. They move lower…and lower, until they touch his ankle.
He twitches in his sleep, but doesn’t wake.
Trailing upward, I brush over the curve of his calf, careful of the bandage. He’s warm beneath my touch, his skin soft enough to bruise. My breath catches when he shifts again, this time toward me, the blanket falling away from his chest .
His shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of stomach and the dip of his waist. I swallow hard as my cock twitches to life.
With trembling hands, I push the fabric higher, baring more of him inch by inch.
My fingertips trace the lines of his jutting ribs and dusky nipples until my palm settles just over his heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Still beating. Still mine.
“Charon…” he sighs again, licking his lips.
My cock fills rapidly at the sound of my name on his tongue. Fuck, is he dreaming of me? Do I make him feel safe?
Does he want me as much as I want him?
Leaning in, I press my forehead to his sternum, letting myself breathe in his scent.
He twitches a bit, but otherwise, stays asleep.
I drag my lips across the bare skin just above his waistband, and when he moans softly, I answer with another kiss, this one to the hollow of his throat.
My body vibrates with restraint as I fight the primal need to sink my teeth into his flesh, mark him up so that the world knows he's mine.
Carefully, I drag my fingers down again, this time not stopping at his ribs. My palm slides over his stomach, thumb grazing the faint dip of his navel, pulse hammering as I inch downward until I find the hem of his pants—
And stop myself from going further.
Hector whimpers in his sleep, hips pressing into my touch. The apparent erection tenting his crotch makes my mouth water, but I lay one more kiss on his throat before pulling away.
As lonely as I've been, as desperately as I want him, I'm not the monster he thinks I am. I'll prove it .
He'll realize soon enough that he belongs to me, anyway, and when he does, I won't need to take. He'll give himself freely, willingly. Not because I forced him, but because he knows that I belong to him, too.
And when that happens, no one will take him away. Not even death.
Gods have mercy on anyone who tries.