28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
S able has sent the whole crew below deck for our so-called training.
He stands a few feet away from me, arms folded neatly behind his back, shoulders squared, stance secure in a way that feels calculated rather than relaxed, as if he’s already bracing himself for whatever I might do.
His black, slightly curly hair sits untouched by the lack of wind, not a single strand out of place.
Bone charms and necklaces hang loose around his neck, catching the sun whenever he shifts, and I do not even try to ignore the tattoos that disappear beneath his linen shirt, because pretending they are not there would be a lie.
Seducing this man might be more difficult than I thought.
“So,” he says, spreading his arms wide, the gesture open and infuriating. “You can begin.”
A humorless laugh bubbles out of my throat. “That’s not how it works. My inner siren is fueled by strong emotions. Fear. Anger. Hate and…”
I trail off, my brows drawing together as the missing word settles heavier than the rest.
“And?” he asks, one brow lifting as his arms fall by his sides. He is watching me far too closely.
I cross my arms over my chest and glance away.
“Lust.”
Sable chokes on his breath, styling it out by clearing his throat.
“And I’m not feeling any of those emotions right now,” I add, tapping my middle finger against my arm in a restless rhythm that gives me something to focus on.
He takes a slow, intentional step toward me.
“Are you sure about that? Because the glare you always shoot at me would set the average man on fire. Or cause him to drop dead right on the spot.”
“I don’t hate you,” I say, meeting his gaze again. “If that’s what you’re getting at.”
“That may be true,” he leans his head closer to mine to whisper, the temptation of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you hate how much you want me.”
I gasp, my fingers tightening around my arms until the pressure borders on pain. Heat spreads through me, anger first and foremost, rushing straight to my cheeks before I can stop it.
“I beg your pardon?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“You heard me,” he says, inching closer again, the half-smile on his face sharpening into a devilish grin. “A siren wanting a pirate, imagine that. I bet you couldn’t compel me even if you wanted to.”
“I know what you’re trying to do.”
“The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching…”
The boards creak beneath his boots as he straightens his back and lifts his head, looking down at me, waiting for a response.
A vibration sparks to life deep in my center.
Small at first, then stronger with every word he speaks, like a flame being fed piece after piece of dry wood until it cannot be contained.
“Stop it.”
“And let’s not forget about my shadow,” he continues quietly, his voice slipping into something almost thoughtful. “How could you not realize it was me? I already told you that your instincts aren’t very sharp.”
Clamping my eyes shut tight, I draw in a slow breath and let it out through my nose, forcing the air past the humming that has begun to slink and coil behind my ribs.
How dare he mention the shadow now. He knows exactly how betrayed I feel, how deeply it cut to realize I had formed a bond with an altered version of him without knowing the truth.
When I open my eyes again, the world seems sharper, as though everything has been brought back into focus, after so long in the dark.
I feel the presence of the water beneath the ship as if it were part of me, its stillness pressing upward, its salt calling out to something ancient inside my chest. Sable stands close enough that I can feel the heat of him, the quiet danger of his proximity to me further fueling my hum.
My inner siren responds before I can stop her, drawn to exactly what she knows she should avoid.
“And now,” he breathes, storm-grey eyes locked onto mine without fear or hesitation. “Sing for me, little fish.”
The nickname snaps something in me clean in two.
I reach inward and gather the strings of my power one by one, curling my fists around them before pulling all at once.
The tension folds my body at the center, forcing me to lean forward as my breath shudders and the song lodges painfully in my throat, refusing to come free.
“Steady.” His hand finds the small of my back, the other on my waist, holding me upright. His touch sends a pulse through me, sensation and power colliding until it feels like lightning skittering beneath my skin. “Don’t let it consume you. Control it.”
With Lark, it had been different. I had wanted to soothe, not command. Sable resists instinctively, as if he has built a wall of iron around himself, and I feel it in the air before I even give the song shape.
“Okay,” I whisper.
His hand only leaves once I’m steady on my own again.
I reach inward more carefully this time, coaxing out the humming power in my core instead of dragging it forward. One thread. Then another. I let them flow through me slowly, testing the balance, waiting until I’m sure they won’t overwhelm me before taking just a little more.
“You have to sing,” Sable whispers, a deep frown line settling between his eyes. “Give it a purpose. Make me do something. Whatever you want.”
The whimper that escapes me barely deserves to be called a note. I shake my head as the panic in me rises, and instead of letting go, I draw in more power than I should, my chest tightening as fear tangles with my power.
Sable takes my hand in his. “I trust you. And jumping overboard wouldn’t kill me here.” His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, sending a shiver through me. “Sing.”
So I do.
The sound slips out of me without clear shape, more hum than song, vibrating behind my teeth before settling into my chest and pouring out in full. It flows directly from the place where my inner siren usually stirs.
Sable stills.
I keep my eyes on the deck at first, on the way sunlight spills across the boards in pale, shifting lines. My voice curls outward, wrapping around us both, leaving a faint echo in its wake, like a rope drawn tight but still slinking around us.
His grip on my hand loosens before slipping away completely. When I finally look at him, his jaw is clenched, his eyes dark and fixed on me with an intensity that makes my pulse stumble. His hands fall at his sides, fingers flexing as if he’s fighting the pull.
I draw in more power, letting the song push harder against his resistance. Before I can decide what I want it to do, his knees hit the deck with a thud. He kneels in front of me, head bowed slightly, breath uneven, as if he has run a great distance and only now stops to catch his breath.
At the sight of him, my heart slams against my ribs, and the song dies on my tongue.
“I didn’t mean…” I don’t continue, because there are no words that seem to fit.
He doesn’t move.
The moment stretches, the echo of my song still humming through my body. When he still doesn’t move, instinct takes over. I gather my gown and drop to my knees in front of him, lifting his face carefully until his eyes meet mine.
He’s smiling.
“Darling,” he breathes, “if you wanted me on my knees, you could have just told me.”
I gasp and release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my hands falling away from his face, numb and shaking.
“You scared me,” I say with a shaking voice and try to stand, but his hand closes around my wrist.
“I’m messing with you,” he says, eyes lingering. “That was good.”
We stare at each other, the silence stretching between us, heavy with everything we haven’t yet said.
It reminds me of this morning and the way he looked at me before he kissed me.
And even though I miss his lips against mine, I am not ready for that yet, not until I know what’s behind his lack of hope.
As the silence stretches, the world seems to soften at the edges, the lines of the deck and the sea blurring just slightly as it sways beneath my feet.
I blink, and I’m not sure how long we’ve been staring at one another.
Swallowing hard, I avert my gaze. “The training is over,” I say and tear my wrist free.
“Eryse, I—”
I rise too quickly, catching on the hem of my gown before I steady myself, then turn and walk away, leaving him behind.