29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“ W e had barely even started!”
I keep my eyes fixed ahead, walking toward the bow with a determination that stiffens the muscles in my face into a frown. Of course, he catches up after a beat. His footsteps follow me, close enough that my pace falters before he reaches me.
A hand slides around my waist to my abdomen, stopping me mid-step and pulling me directly into his warm, solid chest. It knocks the breath out of me, caught completely off guard by how easily he does it, how confidently he touches me.
His fingers spread wide over my stomach, his thumb pressing into the soft skin there, steadying and possessive.
Whatever I mean to say dies in my throat.
“We could do something else instead,” he whispers, his breath warm against the side of my neck. “It might be worth taking a swim, considering you’re likely formed from the same magic that makes these waters so hard to resist.”
I swallow and close my eyes, just for a moment, just long enough to feel the heat of him seep into me before it’s gone.
I take in the salt of his skin, the steady weight of his hold, the way he anchors me more securely than any chain ever could.
I place my hands over his, not pushing him away yet. Just feeling him. Just this once.
“Sable,” I say, my voice thin when I finally find it. I push him back to turn around, and this time, he lets me. “Is your shadow near? Because if it’s not, please just tell me.”
He studies me, brows furrowing slightly, and it feels as though he’s looking straight through the barrier I’ve built, as if it were nothing more than clear water.
“My shadow’s with me,” he says quietly. “It feels like the light’s been following me around. I’ve never felt more like myself.”
“Oh.”
My gaze drops to the bodice of my light pink gown, my cheeks likely matching the color of the fabric now. If this is what Sable is like when he’s whole, then I am in trouble. Big time.
“Aye,” he says, the smile audible in his voice. “Oh.”
We stand there in silence on the empty deck, the ship utterly still beneath us.
I wonder if not talking about what happened this morning will make everything worse, like pressing a bandage over a wound that’s already infected and pretending it won’t fester underneath.
Perhaps ripping the bandage off is the better option.
I lift my head and meet his eyes, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve so as not to let my nerves show in the shaking of my hands. “Why did you kiss me this morning if you don’t see any hope?”
He steps closer, his silhouette a harsh contrast against the blazing sun.
“You know exactly why I kissed you,” he says and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, a gesture so gentle that it sends a shiver rippling through me.
“No, I do not. Please, feel free to enlighten me.”
He takes another step forward, closing the distance between us.
“Because, darling,” he says softly, “I’m selfish. And resisting you is like telling the moon to stop pulling the tide.”
I close my eyes and breathe through it, through the things I can’t say out loud.
That he confuses me. That he shattered everything I thought I knew about pirates, about fear, about safety.
That he hurt me by keeping the truth from me.
That I can fear someone and still care for them, even when I wish I didn’t. But I cannot say any of these things.
Sable lets out a sigh and places both hands on the sides of my head, then makes me look at him.
“You singing back Lark’s shadow,” he says in a low voice, “That has given me hope. You are my hope, Eryse.”
I swallow, trying my best to keep it together. “So you are willing to fight?”
“I am always willing to fight for my crew,” he continues in a serious voice.
“And for yourself?” I press, searching his face for the truth he refuses to say out loud. “Tell me that you’re willing to fight.”
For a moment, he only looks at me. Then exhales and drags both hands over his face before pressing his palms into his eyes. The silence is deafening.
“Yes,” he adds, his eyes holding mine. “I am willing to fight, love. But there are things you don’t know about me, about my shadow—”
“Then tell me,” I cut in, the sharpness in my voice surprising even me. “Because if you won’t tell me what it is you continue to keep from me, I can’t help you.”
By the way his throat moves as he swallows, I know that he doesn’t want to give me an answer.
Not yet. Taking a deep breath, I try to get a grip on my emotions again.
The words are there. I can see it in the way his chest rises a little deeper, like he almost speaks, then stops himself.
It seems like this isn’t easy for him. I could push and force him to say it, but I don’t.
Not when it would make it harder for him.
I have to trust that he will tell me eventually, and hope that it won’t be too late.
“I’ll go swim,” I say instead, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
His shoulders drop, the relief in him immediate.
“You’re right. Maybe it’ll trigger my shift.”
I turn on my heel and leave him like that, walking toward the ladder fixed to the hull.
I make quick work of my gown, draping it over a clean barrel, and start down the ladder in nothing but my undergarments.
I’m halfway down when a dark crown of hair appears over the railing, the jewelry at his neck clinking against the wood.
“You’re not going alone, woman.”
“In case you need reminding,” I call back, continuing my descent, “I’m a siren. I swim better than you ever will.”
He curses above me, and a grin tugs at my mouth. Stubborn pirate. A moment later, his presence looms over me, and the ladder creaks beneath our combined weight.
The closer I get, the more beautiful the water becomes. It gleams softly, almost like silk, pale and shifting, so smooth it barely looks like water at all. Thin lines of white foam gather near the hull where the sea kisses the ship, waves so small you’d miss them if you couldn’t get this close.
Just before my feet touch the surface, I hesitate. If what Sable showed me in the cabin is right, if this sea really did shape me, maybe it has the power to give me my tail. But hope has teeth, and it bites hardest when you place all your faith in it. In my hesitation, I look up.
Sable meets my gaze, his eyes creased by a gentle smile. “Go,” he says. “I’ll carry you back up. Even with a tail.”
I laugh, and that brief lightness he gives me is enough. I let myself sink into the warm, shallow water. He follows with far less grace, splashing down beside me.
I brace myself for disappointment. I remind myself that I don’t need a tail to be a siren. That this doesn’t define me. A miracle of two worlds, my mother used to say, though I never understood why she would call me a miracle.
Still, my chest tightens when I look down and see my very human legs floating beneath the surface. I hold back tears, defeated by the reality I’m faced with. A quiet whimper escapes my mouth. I’m so tired of pitying myself. Of being let down by the sea time and time again.
“Risa.”
“Please, don’t—”
“No. Look.”
I frown, heart sinking. And then I see them.
Scales. Dozens of them, scattered along my hips, my thighs, my feet. They shimmer in soft, iridescent hues, almost disappearing against the blues and pinks and violets of the water.
“Where did they come from?” I whisper, soft tears spilling down my cheeks as I turn my legs slowly, unable to look away in case they disappear.
“I don’t know,” Sable says quietly beside me, his gaze fixed on my legs. “But they’re magnificent.”
“Careful, captain.” A smile tugs at my mouth as another tear slides down my cheek. “That almost sounds like you don’t despise everything I am.”
He slips an arm beneath my knees and lifts my legs gently from the water. “I don’t despise any part of you,” he says.
My heart flutters when I understand what he’s done.
He didn’t touch me just for the sake of it, but to lift my legs enough for me to see the scales for myself.
Still, I don’t pull away when his fingers trace along them, slow and careful, as if he’s touching something fragile rather than something that was created to withstand the currents.
Without speaking a word, he swims us to a nearby sandbank, a small piece of land in an otherwise endless sea that I haven’t noticed before.
We both lie down in the soft, white sand and let the warmth of the sun seep into our bodies.
I keep my eyes closed, and for a moment, I am scared it will all be wiped away when I open them again.
The silence ripples between us, but not in an uncomfortable way. Instead, it feels like we have both wordlessly decided that right now, right here, it is just the two of us. No curse. No shadows. Not a pirate and a siren, but just him and me.
A drip on my forehead makes me open my eyes.
Sable’s wet, dark hair hangs loose above me, casting a shadow over his grey eyes. There is a glow in them, an intensity that makes me hold my breath.
“The moon and the tide,” he murmurs softly and places a hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath my eye.
We stare at one another, both knowing how fragile the moment is and that we might not get the chance to feel like this again.
He leans in, slow enough that I could stop him.
But I don’t. His mouth meets mine with a certainty that steals the air from my lungs, and I rise into the kiss without thinking, answering him just as fiercely.
The world narrows to the press of his lips, the heat of him, the way his body fits against mine.
I gasp against his mouth and reach for him, my fingers sliding into his hair.
It’s damp and coarse beneath my hands, exactly as I imagined it would be, and I curl my fingers tighter, tugging just enough to draw a low sound from his throat.
His strong hand finds my waist, and he pushes me deeper into the sand in response.
The cool metal of his jewelry brushes against my collarbone, along my scales, and the sensation sends a subtle heat through my body.
A hungry kiss soon turns into something more.
Desire burns as it rushes through my veins, feeding the coiling power behind my ribs.
For a brief moment, I am scared I will lose control.
My breath turns shallow, and Sable’s head snaps up in an instant, breaking the kiss, his brows drawn together as he searches my face for the answer.
“Are you okay?” he asks in a low voice.
I nod quickly. “Yes. I am okay. Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything,” he says, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
“I want to see your tattoos.”
His eyes widen a little in quiet surprise, but he doesn’t hesitate.
Sable sits up and pulls his wet linen shirt over his head before tossing it aside.
The sight of his bare chest knocks the breath out of my lungs.
Dark ink swirls from his arms, over his shoulders, across his broad, muscled chest, and down his stomach before finally disappearing under his breeches.
Sable follows my gaze, and when our eyes meet again, heat rushes into my cheeks.
“You like them?”
A smile tugs at my lips in response, and finally, I let my siren take over.
I push him back into the soft sand, the dark hair on his head a stark contrast against the white beneath him.
By the six seas, he is beautiful. I take a moment longer to appreciate him before straddling him and pressing my lips to his again.
My hands roam his chest in slow exploration, trying to commit the feel of his skin to memory.
Large, strong hands grip my hips as the air suddenly falls dead around us.
A scream erupts from inside the Noctis.
We both snap our heads toward the sound, a sharp gasp tearing from my throat.
Because she does not lie there alone. Right behind her, another ship has appeared, smaller, but unmistakably real.
Strange men board over a plank while someone else drags up the ladder clinging to the side of the ship, the very ladder Sable and I just descended.
What makes panic flood my veins is the sound of metal striking metal coming from the orlop, dulled by the thick wood separating us from it.
The blood drains from me as the realization hits me. Sable sent all the men below deck. They wouldn’t have seen the enemy coming. They didn’t have time to prepare. Some of them were likely sleeping. And now they are likely being slaughtered.
“No,” Sable says, his voice thin and broken as he scrambles to his feet, his gaze searching his ship for another way back, though we both know there is none. The hull is too high to climb.
Time stretches, endless and distorted. From the corner of my eye, I see Sable shouting, trying to negotiate, offering his treasures, promising more than I know he can give. They ignore him, and he only shouts louder in response.
His gaze finds mine. He grips my shoulders, shaking me, likely screaming at me, but it is as though we are underwater.
His mouth moves, but every sound is muffled, the world around us blurring at the edges.
I try to reach for my power, but it feels distant, slipping away no matter how desperately I grasp for it.
Dark figures approach the railing, dragging someone in front of them. His boots skid over the boards as he struggles, screaming, kicking, trying to wrench himself free. He is too small for the hands that hold him.
By the six seas.
It is Lark.
Tears sting my eyes and spill down my cheeks as I stand paralyzed in horror. I search for my power again but still cannot find even a single thread of it. What good is it to be a siren if my power fails me now? Why must I be so utterly useless?
One of them lifts a knife.
I whimper, throwing my hand over my mouth, holding my breath as I reach for my power again. Whatever I grasp for shatters the moment I touch it, slipping away like sand through my fingers.
The blade flashes. Bright, red blood spills from Lark’s throat as the knife cuts clean through. I watch in horror as the life drains from his widened eyes. His small body tips forward and falls over the railing, the wind tearing at him, but I do not hear him hit the water.
Instead, I hear myself scream. The sound tears out of me, uncontrolled and violent, as the world collapses into black.