Chapter 8 #2
Her pulse fluttered uneasily, but she pushed the feeling aside. Just nerves, she told herself. He was taking risks too—angering the prestigious Vaelmont family, inciting a scandal, jeopardizing his diplomatic position, abandoning everything just as she was.
It was only natural he felt on edge.
Wasn’t it?
On the dock, the crew moved with quiet precision, offering nods in passing. Castiel exchanged brief words with the captain—just enough to confirm their readiness—before ushering her toward the cabin below deck.
It was small but comfortable. A low dresser stood against one wall, a brass oil lamp casting a warm glow. A narrow bed rested beneath the cabin’s small porthole, a wool blanket folded neatly at the foot. The scent of polished wood and lingering sea air gave the space an odd comfort.
Castiel helped with her cloak and went to the table beside the bed, where a bottle of wine and two goblets awaited. He poured, the deep burgundy liquid glistening under the low light.
“Drink this,” he said, offering it to her. “To settle your nerves.”
Reiya took a sip, warmth unfurling through her. Another sip. The taste lingered—dark, velvety, but with a sweet aftertaste that almost made her stick out her tongue .
Behind her, Castiel’s hand grazed her arm. He leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear.
“I know this is less than you deserve,” he murmured, palms cupping her shoulders. “But we won’t be here long.”
“It’s perfect.” She set the goblet down with a soft clink. “It’s all I need.”
Castiel smiled against her cheek, slow, deliberate. He kissed just below her ear, lips lingering before he whispered, “You say that, but I know you deserve so much more.”
His hand slid to her waist, drawing her flush against him. His lips brushed her neck, featherlight, sending a flutter through her pulse. When his mouth claimed hers, she sank into the kiss, its softness and fervour both comforting and disorienting.
A pleasant haze settled over her, light and dreamlike, as if his touch could dissolve the weight of the night. She leaned in, chasing the comfort she’d always found in him, wanting to believe this closeness was enough.
Her hands curled into his shirt, grasping for something solid. But the harder she held on, the more he slipped through her fingers—like sand, impossible to keep. His kiss deepened, urgent, yet instead of steadying her, the intimacy only blurred the edges of her world.
The room felt too warm. The air too thin.
Her pulse quickened, louder than the soft rustle of his hands sliding lower to the curve of her hips. A chill traced her spine—unease slipping in where it didn’t belong, not with Castiel holding her like this.
Then, as if the air itself had fractured, a sharp knock split through the room, shattering the moment. Castiel exhaled a quiet, frustrated sigh. His expression smoothed in an instant, but the flicker of annoyance didn’t go unnoticed.
“One moment,” he called, his voice slipping effortlessly back into easy charm, as though the intensity had never touched him at all. Meanwhile, Reiya struggled to breathe, the pressure cinching her chest tight.
He cracked the door just enough to peer outside. A sailor shifted on his feet, offering a quick nod .
“We’re ready to set sail, my lord.”
Castiel inclined his head. “Thank you. I’ll be up shortly.”
With a bow, the sailor slipped away. Castiel eased the door shut, and suddenly the room felt smaller, the air thick with the tension that had momentarily eased.
His gaze settled on her, quiet, inspecting. The corners of his mouth curled into a slow, knowing smile.
“It seems we’ll have to finish this later,” he murmured, regret tinged with playfulness, as though the interruption was a mere inconvenience, not a stolen moment on the edge of something irreversible.
Reiya swallowed, skin still tingling where his hands had been, the warmth of his kiss threading through her. Unease stirred, but she dared not linger on it. She smiled back, as if that small, nervous curve of her lips could keep the fragile balance between them intact a little longer.
He took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, his lips lingering a moment too long.
“Try to rest. I’ll return once everything is underway.”
She nodded, and the door clicked softly behind him. Silence settled, broken only by the gentle creak of the ship beneath her feet.
Slowly, she turned toward the bed.
It seemed larger than it was a moment ago—an expanse of tangled promises and unspoken fears. She stared at it, its significance settling into her chest.
It wasn’t just a place to sleep. Two days alone together, and they might cross a line she could never uncross. They might become lovers before they ever reached Batteron.
The thought sat uneasily with her. Not fear, precisely—this was Castiel, and he’d always been gentle, playful, never demanding. But crossing this line meant no return to stolen glances and furtive touches beneath the moon.
Still staring at the bed, she chewed her lower lip. Perhaps it was best to ask him to wait—until the rites were performed in Batteron. Then, their first night as lovers wouldn’t feel like an extension of their escape but the beginning of their new life together.
Her gaze drifted to the bottle of wine and the goblets resting on the table—one still clean and untouched, the other stained red. A small smile tugged at her lips. He hadn’t had a drink yet. She’d pour him one to welcome him back and make this feel like a proper start.
Her fingers brushed the neck of the bottle just as the floor swayed beneath her. A wave of dizziness surged, then another, stronger this time, tilting the room and sending the soft clink of glass echoing from somewhere distant.
She shut her eyes, willing the sensation to pass. Colourful sparks exploded behind her eyelids. The ship’s hum grew faint, like it was drifting away. The bottle slipped from her grasp, wine sloshing over the wood as it rolled onto the floor.
Her legs buckled, the world tipped over. Before she could steady herself, the cold kiss of the floor met her palms.
Everything went dark.