Chapter 14 Sunlight’s Touch #2
It feels like hours have passed. Just as my last stitch is woven into place, the circle door creaks open.
Though I try to resist, I can’t help but glance over at the sound to see Rhyland Crow duck inside.
A flare of relief comes at the sight of him, splattered in inky black blood, but whole.
Mostly unharmed. I kick myself for feeling that way, when his death would solve so many of my problems.
“Captain,” Mattias nods. “What can I do for you?”
“Davvey has breakfast ready, best get it while it’s warm.” His message is clear enough. He wants Mattias to go so he can interrogate me.
The old surgeon gives me a small, apologetic smile and wipes his hands before he slips away, door clicking shut behind him. Alone, I feel more exposed than ever—not just because I’m not wearing a shirt, but there's a vulnerability that goes deeper beneath his gaze—all the way down to the bone.
“Do you know how many times I’ve crossed the Shadowed Sea to Elaris?”
"How could I?" I nearly growl out, so biting and hostile considering what I know about him now.
I wait for his ghosting smirk but it doesn't come and a strange disappointment settles deep in my stomach.
I want to smother it before it can spark like an ember.
Before it can become something more. My fingers dig against the rough blanket as I fold into myself despite how painful the movement is.
Like the lash of the Sisters whipping stick, times three.
When he moves along the shadowy wall, those strange light reflections splash over his hard features. "Too many times to count. Too many to remember. And in all of those trips never, ever, have the kepra attacked."
"Maybe I'm bad luck,” I muse. “Maybe you should send Rowan and I off on the next ship we cross that's headed back to Helgate."
“So you can find my crown piece? Form your liberation army to free all of the slaves you know damn well Harlow didn’t release?”
My stare sharpens. “How can you know that? He was terrified of your threats. I’ve never seen him look so afraid, not even on the night his ship went down.”
“Stupid men are never afraid for long, and a greedy, stupid one even less so.”
Before I can utter some witty retort, his face changes. An alarming ripple of pain spreads over it. A sharp pallor that has him hissing out a breath and stumbling sideways into the long counter next to him.
My throat contracts around a short cry of surprise and I jump to my feet despite the flare of pain it sends up my leg.
“Pirate?” I rush to him, holding tight to the blanket covering my front. “What's wrong?”
The corner of his lips twitch, just the slightest, as he shifts to sit down on the scrubbed floor.
His head falls back against the wooden slates of the ship wall and he releases a long, even breath.
“Nothing, Nymph. I'm fine. You should go. Get some breakfast before my crew eats it all. You need your strength.” His eyes flutter back open, narrowing on me. “But please put a shirt on first.”
Warmth rushes to my cheeks when he closes his eyes again, strong shoulders curving with exhaustion.
“Fine.” With a conniving huff, I toss my blanket over him and hold back a half smile when his body stiffens at the realization that it means I'm bare now.
The feel of tepid air against my skin is almost liberating, considering how long I've been wrapped up and hidden away to hide what lies beneath.
I don't completely understand the swell of disappointment that rises through me when he doesn't open his eyes.
Instead of trying to deconstruct the emotion, I turn and don one of the fresh button-downs laid out for me.
I feel his gaze on my back as I start to fasten the buttons, and then the way the air shifts behind me when he rises to step near.
“Wait.”
My hands freeze at the command. Something low and heady gathers deep in my abdomen and my skin flushes at the tone of his voice.
I swallow again, dryly. “For what?”
“I'd like to inspect Mattias's work.”
Oh. I only hesitate a moment before letting the rough shirt fabric part and slip down off my right shoulder to expose the fresh stitches.
A sharp shiver goes through me when his hand brushes the skin around it, warm and gentle.
The heat is a faint reminder of what came off of him up on the deck.
The blast that instantly killed two massive kepra.
That saved my life. Some of the pain ebbs, replaced by… other feelings.
A small, embarrassing noise escapes me when his touch shifts down along my back and I make quick work of covering it with a cough.
“This will scar.” He withdraws his hand before tugging the shirt back into place. I tighten it around myself and turn to look up at him. He stares back, eyes as dark and puzzling as the moment I first glimpsed them through the waterfall.
“I’m used to scars, I have plenty.” There's that hard, challenging edge to my voice. I was worried I'd lost it somewhere over the last few days.
He frowns, a slight furrow between his brows.
And then a shadow expands over his features.
Something that makes him look much more like the fearsome Rhyland Crow.
Land razer. Merciless pirate captain. A man who has sent hundreds to their graves.
Whose presence alone can make grown men piss themselves from fear.
My heart slams harder in my chest, throbbing in time with my ankle as I take an involuntary step back. He meets my stride, hand lifting to ghost over my collar bone, trail along my neck before it comes to rest beneath my jaw.
“On my ship you follow my orders.”
“I don't want to be on your ship.”
The deep gravel to his voice should be terrifying.
“Your want is worthless, Nymph. You're here and nothing changes that.
While you're here, you will listen to me.
And when I tell you to go below deck, you go below deck.
You don't scream at baying monsters. You don't try to play the hero. You run. Understood?”
Stark heat rushes through me, amplified at the places his fingers squeeze along the dip of my throat. I know he can feel the rush and skip of my pulse and hate him for it. “I wasn't playing anything. I was saving your life.”
His black brow rises. He catches a wispy strand of my hair between his fingers, studies it for a moment before whispering, “What a curious creature you are. I was under the impression you wanted me dead.”
My eyes flick down to his abdomen. I recall the barrel of the pistol pressed against it, pulling the trigger as though possessed by some unseen force. Dominated by anger, a feeling that threaded through to meld with my very veins.
“My want is worthless, remember?”
At that, the ghost of a smirk spreads over his lips and it feels like victory. Something delicious and dark and wholly unfamiliar.
“Go eat. And try not to add anymore scars to your collection for at least a solid few hours.”
A protest gathers in my mind. I have questions, I want to insist. What’s in Elaris?
What happened to Solomon and the red sea captain?
How did we get on this ship? But part of me knows he won’t answer, and giving him the satisfaction of such a thing is too unappealing.
Instead, I give a sly tilt of the mouth and whisper, “I make no promises.”