Chapter 17 #6
Cypher shook his head. "One sea, many rivers. The First Dark is singular—the origin point for all existence. That's what makes it so powerful. And so dangerous."
A distant wail echoed through the ship, making me tense. The denizens were still out there, hunting.
"Will we make it to the Engine?"
Cypher was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "But I've come too far to give up now. We've all come too far."
I thought about the others—Kora, Click, the entire crew. Were they lost too? Were they facing these same horrors alone?
I jolted awake, and for a moment, I couldn't remember where I was.
I must have fallen asleep despite my determination to stay awake.
The crystal Cypher had placed on the desk still glowed softly, casting the room in a blue glow.
I started to sit up, then froze when I realized I wasn't alone on the narrow bed.
Cypher lay beside me, one arm draped heavily across my stomach. His breathing was deep and even, his face relaxed in sleep. The perpetual tension that lined his features had smoothed out, making him look younger.
I should have pushed his arm away. Should have moved as far from him as the small room would allow. But something kept me still, studying his face in the blue light.
His shirt was off—when had that happened?
—and I found my eyes drawn to his exposed skin.
I could see them clearly now, the network of raised silver scars that crisscrossed his torso.
I'd caught glimpses before, that day I'd walked into his quarters unannounced, but never this close. Never with this much clarity.
Some were thin lines that had to have been made by blades. Others were wider, jagged, as if his skin had been torn rather than cut. Ten years in the Dredge. Ten years as a prisoner, an experiment. A child growing into a man in darkness and pain.
I felt a shift in his breathing and looked up to find his copper eyes open, watching me. He hadn't moved, hadn't pulled his arm away, but I could feel the tension and stillness returning to his body.
"They used air batons," he said softly, voice rough with sleep. "When we got restless. When we showed any sign of resistance."
I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.
"Air magic leaves distinctive scars. It doesn't cut like a blade. It tears the skin from the inside. Makes the pain last longer."
"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words feeling wholly inadequate.
"Don't be. You didn't do it."
His eyes drifted to where his arm still lay across my stomach. Slowly, he withdrew it, creating space between us on the narrow bed.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep," I said.
"Neither did I." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "So much for taking shifts."
The wailing of the denizens had stopped, I realized. The ship was silent around us, the only sound was our quiet breathing. "Are they gone?"
Cypher sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. "For now."
He reached for his shirt, which he'd apparently draped over the headboard of the bed. As he pulled it on, I caught a final glimpse of those silver scars.
"Do they all look like that?" I asked. "The other Nytherians from the Dredge?"
He paused, halfway through pulling it down. "The ones who survived, yes."
"Do any of them still have magic like yours?"
"A few who had strong magic, yes. Most lost their abilities completely. The dampeners and the drugs... they weren't meant to be used long-term. They damaged something fundamental in us."
I sat up, suddenly unable to remain lying beside him. The narrow bed forced us into an intimacy that confused my already chaotic emotions.
"Do you regret it?" Cypher asked suddenly.
"Regret what?"
"Any of it. Kissing me. Whatever was starting between us before I—" He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
I swallowed thickly. "That's cruel, even for you."
"I'm not trying to be cruel. I just need to know."
"Why? So you can manipulate me more effectively next time?" The words lashed out before I could stop them. "How am I supposed to answer that when I have no idea when you might betray me again? When the next lie is coming?"
“Scavenger—”
"No." I stood up, needing distance. "You don't get to ask me that. You don't get to act like what we started was real when you were calculating every touch, every kiss, every moment to keep me under your thumb."
"That's not how it was."
"I've never felt anything like what I felt for you!" I spat, and he paused, his whole body tensing. "And I fucking hate you for breaking my heart before I could even have the chance to give it to you properly."
Cypher stared at me, his eyes blazing in the blue crystal light. It felt too raw, too vulnerable to be telling him any of this. It wasn't fair.
"My feelings for you were never part of the lie," he said finally. "I tried to ignore them. Tried not to watch you when you weren't looking. I couldn't afford to let feelings get in the way of my mission. My people needed me to stay focused."
"More lies," I spat, but there was no conviction in it.
"No." He moved toward me, once again reminding me of how large he was, enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "That's the only truth I've ever been certain of."
Before I could respond, his hands were on my face, fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me to him.
His mouth crashed against mine, hard. I should have pushed him away.
Should have slapped him. Should have done anything but what I did.
Instead, I kissed him back, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
Our teeth clashed, the kiss more violence than tenderness.
Something came over me then. I tore at his shirt, needing to feel skin, to mark him somehow. He responded in kind, his hands rough as they pushed beneath my top, fingers digging into my waist.
"This means nothing," I gasped against his mouth as he lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist. "I can't trust you."
"Tell me to stop," he growled, pressing me against the wall. "Tell me to walk away now and I will."
I answered by ripping his shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor. His skin burned beneath my palms, the scars rough against my fingertips. He groaned as I scraped my nails down his chest.
"Juno," he breathed, the word half warning, half begging me not to tell him to keep going.
I silenced him with another brutal kiss, sending him backward until he hit the edge of the bed, still holding me up. He sat heavily, and I followed, settling onto his lap, grinding against the hard length of him.
"Fuck," he growled against my lips, his hands flying to my hips, guiding my movements.
This was power. This was control. In my mind, I was taking it back, showing him that I was the one with all the cards. That I could make him desperate, could make him want, could make him beg.
His fingers fumbled with the fastenings of my pants, and I raised up just enough to let him push them down. I kicked them away impatiently, then reached for his belt, unfastening it with trembling hands.
"Are you sure?" he asked, sounding strained as I freed him from his pants, my hand wrapping around his cock. He was thick and warm, the swollen head already glistening as he strained in my grip.
"Don't ask me that," I hissed, stroking him once, twice. "Don't pretend this is something it's not."
His answering laugh was bitter, but it turned into a groan as I positioned myself over him.
I sank down slowly, taking him inside me inch by inch, watching his face contort with pleasure and restraint.
When I was fully seated, his hands tightened on my hips, but he didn't move, letting me set the pace, letting me keep this control.
I began to move, rising and falling in a rhythm that was punishing for us both. Too fast, too hard, but neither of us cared. This wasn't about pleasure, it was about proving something.
"Juno," he groaned, one hand sliding up my back to tangle in my hair. He pulled, forcing my head back, exposing my throat. His mouth latched onto my pulse, teeth scraping sensitive skin.