18. Lucina #2
“Tell me more,” I say softly and Callan laughs, releasing my hands to check the damage on my knees, then he gently moves them towards the light to—
It’s taken me until just now to realize I don’t have pants on.
Like none. At all.
My T-shirt is long, thank the Matrons, but who knows what he saw when he carried me out of the cabin.
Callan turns to grab something from his kit and catches the sudden heat in my cheeks. Then he notices the way my eyes refuse to focus on his.
“What is it?” he asks innocently, but I catch the corner of his grin as he dips his head to get a better look at my knees. Then his smile splits wide open when I slam them together. Silver eyes find mine, a mischievous glint in them. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Suddenly, the desire to kick him in the face is so strong that I squeeze the edges of the sofa cushion to stop myself. “My naked body?” I gape, “I know for fucking sure you’ve never seen it before.”
“Sometimes you don’t shut your blinds,” Callan says dryly, then goes back to prodding at my knees.
My mouth falls open, and anger flares, burning brighter when he smirks. I make a move to stand, but he slams his arm down over my thighs, never looking up from whatever wound he’s working on. “Let me go,” I growl, some feral part of me shredding its way out from the inside.
His arm stays locked in place. “It’s not a big deal, Lucina. It’s only happened a few times.”
“A big dea—A FEW TIMES?!” I’m going to rip his eyes out of his head and pulverize them. “Let me go so I can kick your ass!”
He does no such thing. But when he finally looks up at me, he’s smiling. “You didn’t even feel it, did you?”
“Feel what?!” I snap, jerking against his hold but it’s no damn use. “Perverted eyes watching me through my windows!? Obviously not.”
That makes him laugh. Which makes me want to rip his throat out.
“No, Lucina.” Callan empties his hand over the table, and a few tiny wooden shards tumble out of his open palm. “I just dug six splinters out of your knees.”
My jaw slackens. “Did you just?”
“Distract you?” he grins, proud of himself. “Yes, I did.” The Captain puts the tweezers down, then leans forward on his thighs, caging in my legs with his own. “Do you really think I’d watch you like that?”
I don’t answer because deep down, I don’t think he would.
And that feels too na?ve to say out loud.
“I never have, and I never will.” The Captain ponders his words for a moment. Then confidently amends his promise, sealing it with a dark smile, “Unless of course, you ask me to.”
Oh no.
No, no, no…
This is a recipe for disaster—the lingering adrenaline, the lifesaving of it all, the brush with death… the lack of clothing. All my worst decisions have been made in this kind of headspace.
I slide back into the sofa, replying as casually as I’m able. “Well, I’d never ask you to, Captain–”
I barely rein in my gasp when the feet of the couch scrape the hardwood and my entire body jolts forward. Callan’s hand, which I hadn’t even seen move, is snaked between my calves and hooked on the bottom of the sofa, while his other hand is pressed into the cushion beside me.
Matrons, he pulled the whole damn couch towards him.
“Call me anything else,” he growls.
“Why should I?” My voice shakes as I’m forced to meet his gaze head-on. “You never take my name preferences into consideration.”
“Because, Chaos.” He nods to his discarded vest on the ground—the Captain’s armor. “I don’t want to be that with you.”
Silence falls—heavy and thick with something electric. Something I can’t quite place.
“Why?” I ask, but it comes out as a whisper. I’m so close now that I can see all the raised skin on his chest and ribs. Every inch of him is either ink-filled or scar-flecked and I–
You cannot touch, Lucina.
Callan snakes his hand out from under the couch and straightens, pulling my attention upward. “Because it’s different, isn’t it?” The Captain grips my wrist gently, slowly pulling my bandaged hand towards him. “This.”
I suck in a breath when he presses my fingertips into the skin beneath his jaw, and his pulse flickers in response to the touch. My thumb brushes against it as he guides my hand down the side of his neck, then back up again.
His pulse flickers again. A subtle stutter that’s impossible to miss.
“It’s you that does that.” Callan drags my thumb across it again, and my gaze snaps to his. “Only you.”
I don’t have the discipline for this right now.
“And I have I feeling…” he murmurs, his voice dropping deeper as he peels my hand away, then moves my fingers carefully atop his, raising his hand to my throat.
There is nothing I can do to stop my pulse from jumping.
If my life had depended on it…I’d be dead.
Callan’s eyes light up when his calloused fingers skate over it, that flicker. “You feel it too.”
My cheeks redden, my mouth opening to respond, but I can’t. I can’t even move properly without trusting myself not to close the distance between us.
Maybe it’s another distraction…
But I can’t think of two people who need it more.
Callan’s nostrils flare when he sees the color that blooms over my cheeks.
The grey rings around his eyes bleed into the silver, darkening his irises until I can’t breathe.
He’s looking down at my lips now, his fingers moving along my neck, and when his thumb skates over the heartbeat there, my pulse skitters like lightning.
I exhale a heavy breath, and he groans in response, sliding his hand back into my hair. Then he tugs on it just enough that my eyes are forced up to his. “Lucina, I’d like to kiss you. And you only have about five seconds to stop me.”
I count the seconds in my head, and for a moment, I almost stop him. For a moment, I’m reminded of just how messy this could get. But that moment is fleeting, and when his other hand slides over the top of my thigh and squeezes—
I count the fifth second and I have no shame in pulling him towards me, a deep groan slipping past his lips the second I have them on mine.
I don’t give myself the time or space to regret it, I just melt into the arms that are already open and waiting for me.
The perfect distraction.
“See?” he whispers against my mouth, his thumb jerking my chin up and tugging it closer. “Chaos.”
Fire catches beneath my skin at his words. It’s slow at first, a gentle exploration as if we have all the time in the world, but when my fingers slide through his hair, everything spirals out of control.
My lips part, and his tongue sweeps in, the hand on my thigh getting higher and higher as I fall deeper into the madness that is the Captain.
His smell, his taste, his overwhelming yet calming presence that pushes me and grounds me all at once.
I kiss him until he tastes like ash and fire and smoke, his fingers tangling through my curls, tugging gently to pull me closer.
Gods, I need to be closer.
It’s feverish now, the way we move, frantic and hungry and perfectly matched—as if we were meant for this and this alone.
Everything else melts away, and he’s the only thing holding me to this world.
I have no power over the tight coil winding low in my stomach, the crackling fire licking my veins, the electricity that pricks my skin and sends my pulse flying—
“Callan,” I warn, when his teeth graze my neck and his mouth finds that pulse, reveling in the way it skips for him.
“Do you want me to stop?” he breathes onto my skin, trailing his lips back up my jaw. “You can tell me to stop.”
“Stop,” I blurt, and he pries his lips from mine, his arms falling to grip the edge of the table as soon as the word leaves my lips. I almost whimper at the loss of him, but then my head tilts curiously. “You listened.”
His eyes are a shade of silver that I’ve truly never seen before, his pupils blown wide and his bottom lip parted and swollen. “You’re surprised?” His voice is heavy and low.
“I don’t know.” The corner of my mouth tilts, and his darkened eyes trace the movement. “Maybe.”
“Was that a test?” Callan asks, then shakes his head when my smile widens. His fingers flex on the coffee table in a wonderful show of restraint, and I wonder how long I can keep him at bay like this. I wonder how long he can stand it. How else am I supposed to test the strength of his word?
“I had to know if you meant it.”
“Lucina,” he exhales heavily, and fire burns low in my stomach.
I lift my chin, forcing down a shaky breath. “How else am I to trust you?” Callan’s eyes snap to mine. “That’s what you meant earlier, isn’t it? Asking if I’d trust you if I had the choice?”
“You said no.”
“Change my mind.”
His breathing is labored, but he remains still. Deathly still. I sit back, staring down at the river of Sol Marks inked along his torso.
“Can I touch them?” I ask, unable to resist the urge any longer.
“You can do anything you want.”
I raise a brow, then trace the raised skin of the Draal, lingering on the hammering beat beneath it. Then my fingers move down another mark, prodding the raised skin gently, and goosebumps trail in the wake of my touch. Callan stiffens, but he never moves his hands from the table.
“You, okay?” I skate my fingers over his torso, drinking in the way his arms flex in response, the veins in them bulging.
“Tempt me all you’d like, Chaos,” he grits out, “I can handle it. But I won’t apologize for anything I do when you set me free.”
“And what if I don’t?” I ponder quietly, and his eyes lock on my lips. “What if I never set you free?” I guide his hand back into my hair, his fingers instinctively wrapping around the base of my neck, and a groan tumbles past his lips when my eyes fall heavy.
“Keep me at your mercy forever, then” he breathes. “It will be a dull life, but I’ll live.”
Everything in me goes molten, my bottom lip sliding between my teeth, as I run my hands down his ribs. Callan’s stare bores into me so intensely that a rush of adrenaline skitters along my bones.
“What is it?” I look back at him. Had I pushed him too far?