Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Trust Weston.
That’s the real question.
Can I trust him?
He doesn’t give me a moment to overthink it, he just moves, bending forward and hooking his arms under my knees. My muscles tense as his other arm presses across my back, just below my shoulders, and then I’m off the ground.
I shriek and flail at the sudden loss of security, despite his arms holding me firmly. The water pushes me on all sides, and I feel like I’m going to drop beneath the surface.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “Just focus on the water, and keep your body as straight as possible.”
I follow his instructions, straightening my body and feeling the water underneath me, supporting me, and completely ignoring the fact that he’s holding me in this shirt that is probably plastered to my skin and leaving little to the imagination.
I don’t think about it. Instead, I suck in slow, deep breaths and try to let go of my fear, feeling the water pushing me up like it had on my arms only moments ago.
Trust it. Trust it.
“Good. Keep going,” Weston says, but his voice sounds far away. My eyes fly open, only to realize he isn’t actually holding me anymore. He’s stepped away, his hands no longer on me, and I’m doing it on my own.
“Wait, wha—” My focus snaps and I sink like a rock. I find the floor and push to stand, coughing and spluttering water all over again.
“What the fuck?” I yell between coughs.
“You were fine, princess. But see what happened when you started thinking too much and stopped trusting? Try again, but do it yourself this time.”
I shoot him a glare, but follow his direction. Again and again, I try to float, falling into the water most of the time, but floating often, too. Once I feel comfortable enough on both my stomach and back, he shows me how to paddle myself around, using the water to stay above the surface.
I haven’t thought once about my fear of the water since my determination to master a new skill kicked in, but now that I’m moving around and not just floating, my water logged clothes keep pulling me down, slowing my movements and tangling up my limbs.
“Ugh!” I grunt in frustration and yank at the heavy fabric, trying to untwist myself and adjust my pants so I can move my legs.
I don’t care if it isn’t fitting for a princess. Rules don’t apply here.
I slog my way over to the boulder with our things and clamber up it, which is much more difficult than before, with my movements restricted by the wet cloth.
“Turn around,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
He does so without question, and after waiting a moment to make sure he isn’t going against my command, I pull the shirt over my head and plop the sopping mess down on the rock. The pants are much more of a challenge, fighting me as I try to peel them down my legs.
Standing on the top of the boulder in nothing but my undergarments makes me feel freer than I ever have in my life, but at the same time, too conscious of exactly how little I’m wearing.
No one other than Tila and Addy has ever seen me show this much skin.
The dark lace undergarments cover everything essential, but are much smaller than the layers of gowns and corsets I am used to at home.
And Weston is right there.
He hasn’t come near me at all since I’ve started trying to swim on my own, so I should be safe from lingering eyes as long as I stay mostly under the water. I drop back in with a small splash and crouch down so my shoulders only peek through the surface.
“Alright, you can turn around now.”
He sinks farther into the water and backs away, staying on the side opposite of the pool, giving me enough space to practice.
Now that I’m not fighting the clothing and constantly being pulled down by the weight, focusing on the strokes as I make laps back and forth is much easier.
With each pass, I’m becoming more and more comfortable in the water, knowing I can at least keep myself above the surface.
It feels like no time has passed at all when Weston finally speaks.
“We should get back. It’s going to be light soon.”
I finish a lap and stand, panting with exertion.
A quick glance at the sky shows he’s right.
The edges are changing colors, so it is time to get back.
Despite getting no sleep, I don’t feel tired yet.
Energy thrums through my body, along with the excitement of overcoming a fear that would have made my time on the island completely different.
Would things have turned out differently if he didn’t have to pull me from the lagoon?
Weston rises and wades closer to me.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“I feel great, actually,” I say. “Maybe the water isn’t so bad after all.” I skate my hands over the surface and notice the change in his face softening with relief.
“I’m not as afraid anymore,” I continue. “I know it will be different when it isn’t as calm as this, but at least now I know how.”
“You’re a fast learner,” he murmurs.
I don’t respond right away, trying to find the right words to express all the thoughts flickering through my mind.
Weston has now taught me skills that will help keep me safe on three separate occasions, more than anyone else, since being on Dawnlin.
I know the dagger skills I never got to learn from Brynne will be valuable eventually, and I’m sure my father will be happy I know them, but learning to swim feels more personal than that.
He pulled me out of the water, saved my life, and now is teaching me how to keep myself safe, so an entirely new world opens up to me here.
It means more than he knows.
“Thank you for teaching me,” I breathe, the words rushing out of my mouth before I regret saying them. “We don’t have water like this back at home, and knowing how just…It just makes me feel a little safer here now. So thank you.”
His throat bobs with a swallow, and his voice is low and quiet.
“You’re welcome.”
A small shiver tickles my spine, despite the overbearing heat, and I look away, my gaze fixed on the water between us.
“Besides, now that I know how, aaahhhh!”
My discomfort is immediately forgotten as something brushes the back of my legs, eliciting a sharp scream from my throat.
Even after having interactions with the other life on Dawnlin, I’d never considered what else lived in the sea, and this feels like an entirely new fear I’m having to process in this exact moment.
I don’t think. I just act.
Flying through the water, I try to put as much distance between myself and the invisible threat as possible. I clamber up a slick boulder, my neck craning as I look over my shoulder to make sure whatever monster lurks beneath the surface isn’t chasing me.
“There’s something in the water!” I shriek. “Something touched my legs!”
I cling to the boulder, hoisting myself up so I’m completely out of the water.
My eyes scan the surface, but the pool remains still, with nothing visible except the glow of the moonlight.
I strain to see, waiting for something to pop out from below, like the fins of the sirens that lured me in so long ago.
But there’s nothing. The water is calm and continues to swell and fall calmly with the movement of the sea.
Then I feel it.
Heat radiates off the rock, warming every speck of skin I have pressed against it. It’s comforting against the panic from the unexpected attacker.
Until it moves.
Strong hands flex under me, gripping my backside and holding me above the water, and I realize what I have done.
It isn’t a boulder I clambered up to escape.
It is Weston.
And I’m essentially naked, every exposed surface of my body pressed against his, clinging to him like the moss on the bark of the trees back home.
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if being unable to see what I did will somehow reverse time. My neck turns painfully slowly, and I gently lift my gaze. The monster in the water is completely forgotten as my eyes trail over everywhere our skin touches.
I’m hyperaware of the press of my soft curves against the hard planes of his body.
My arms wound around his neck, pulling my body and breasts flush against his bare chest, so the delicate lace is the only separation between us.
My feet clasp around his back as my now throbbing core settles against him.
Pressing against his, my chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. My eyes lift to his face, only to find his chin tucked, his gaze downcast, as if he too is trying to avoid this forced entanglement.
Until he isn’t.
Teal eyes meet mine, holding them for just a moment before they slide over my skin, caressing my face, and settling on my lips.
My breath hitches, and my mind empties of everything except the feel of him against me, firm and smooth and real.
The muscles in my arms tighten involuntarily as my eyes flicker to his lips, pulling me closer until we’re barely sharing a breath.
The air is intoxicating, and as if it’s affecting him too, his arms move, his effortless hold changing as he crushes me against him.
His throat bobs when my hips shift in his grasp, pressing the heat between my thighs into him. I suck in a breath; the sound breaks his trance and sends an imaginary bucket of cold water tumbling over my head.
What the fuck am I doing?
This is Weston.
His chin drops again as he turns his head away, while I still sit, chest panting against his, with my heart pounding in my ears.
He’s moving again, shifting one arm underneath me and dropping the other to his side, before leaning sideways into the water.
When he straightens again, his arm extended out next to him, a long, rope-like plant dangles from his hand, its huge leaves protruding in all directions.
He looks back to me then, his lids hooded and eyes still darkened.
“Are you afraid of plants now too, princess?” His voice vibrates in his chest, and I feel it reverberate through mine.