Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Pounding at the door makes me stir, and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for it to stop.
I’m too tired to get up, because I couldn’t fall asleep for what felt like hours after discovering Weston’s ring.
My eyelids feel like they are full of sand, and my vision blurs when I try to open them.
The suns have barely begun to rise, and the room is still dim, so I shut them again and nestle back into the warm comfort of the bed.
Nuzzling back into the pillow, I shift my shoulder and press into something firm and warm.
My eyes fly open and my body stiffens as I realize why I’m so warm and comfortable.
Weston’s body is wrapped around mine, and all of my senses heighten instantly.
I don’t move. If I do, I might wake him and I don’t want him to know I found us curled up in each other like this.
His bare chest is flush against my back, pressing into me firmly, and the heat coming off of him sears me through the thin shirt.
His arm is under my neck, his elbow bent so it folds over my chest, his hand clutching my opposite shoulder while the glint of that ring teases me in my peripheral vision.
His breath tickles the hair on the back of my head, and I try not to squirm.
I must have moved though, because without warning, he pulls me in tighter, his arms constricting around me, and I swallow a gasp.
The shirt has ridden up over my hips in sleep, and his other arm is draped over my hip, his hand splayed over my low abdomen.
His skin sears mine, but I can barely feel it over the throbbing between my thighs as his leg presses, wedged between them.
His breaths are even with sleep, and I close my eyes, trying to slow mine to match. Heat pools between my thighs as he clutches me closer again, our aligned hips fitting more firmly together, as his hard length presses onto my backside.
How long have we been like this? The drink must have removed all his inhibitions, at least in his sleep, enough for him to migrate to my side, invading my space and forever altering what I’ll think of whenever I get into this bed.
The pounding that woke me sounds again. Whoever was banging on the door clearly still needs the captain. Weston jolts behind me, inhaling quickly in my ear. I relax my face, trying hard to seem like I am still asleep despite the pounding in my chest and tingling over every inch of my body.
I know the second his mind clears because the heat disappears.
Everywhere his body was pressed against mine is now cold and empty, and he slowly slides his arm out from under my neck.
The bed jostles underneath me as he moves farther away, and I stay still, breathing steadily and focusing on keeping my face relaxed and neutral.
“Fuck,” he curses softly behind me.
There’s more pounding on the door, followed by Weston’s footsteps crossing the room. The latch clicks as he opens it before murmuring, “I’ll be right there.”
He pads back over, and I listen to his every move, waiting for him to leave so I can relax. I’m not ready to confront him just yet, especially not after waking up to the press of his body on mine. I need to clear my head, to remember what I discovered, and the questions I want answered.
He leaves a few moments later and softly shuts the door behind him, just before the latch clicks, and I immediately roll to my back, chest heaving. My skin feels like it is on fire, and tingles everywhere he touched me, like it misses his contact.
He lost control again. This time, his subconscious mind took over and eliminated the space between us. I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want to be close to him, too.
But after my discovery of his lies, after knowing he thinks it is all a mistake, I can’t feel that way. I need to stay focused. I need answers.
Energy thrums through me, not just from what happened moments ago, but also from my discovery. The ring. Blackwood.
I will confront him, but first, I need to question someone I thought I trusted, someone who has been complicit in his lies this entire time.
Sig.
I dress quickly and push the door open, making sure he isn’t in the hallway leading to Sig’s room. The ship is quiet, the early morning rays just peeking in through the opening to the main deck. He’s nowhere in sight, and I breathe a sigh of relief before striding swiftly down the hallway.
I burst through the door without knocking. Sig is sitting up in her bed, back against the wall, with Jorn’s head propped up on her lap. She takes one look at me with whatever emotions are displayed on my face, and her expression falls.
“Shit. You need to leave.”
Jorn looks confused as she pushes him up and rushes him out of the room. Tugging me inside, she closes the door firmly and leans her back against it.
“What did he do?”
I ignore her question. Now isn’t the time to discuss how confusing Weston’s actions have been compared to his words.
“What do you know, Sig?”
Her lips form a line. “I told you, I will tell you what I can. I’ve said that from the beginning.”
“So you lied to me, too?”
She shakes her head. “No, Lennox, I haven’t lied. Just tell me what happened.”
“Where did he get that ring?”
Her mouth falls open slightly, eyes widening. I caught her off guard, because she clearly wasn’t expecting the ring to be what I asked about. She hasn’t had enough time to concoct a lie, so maybe I’ll finally get some actual answers.
“He’s always had that ring, as long as I’ve known him.”
“Don’t lie to me. Where did he get it from? He must have taken it from someone.”
She takes a step toward me, her eyes pleading for me to believe her. “I’m not lying Lennox. I’ve never seen him take it off.”
“I trusted you, Sig! And now I don’t know what to believe!”
“I swear to you,” she says, and raises a fist to her chest. “He’s had it since the day we met, since the day he arrived on Dawnlin.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “I remember because that ring is what gave Dane his scar.”
My stomach bottoms out and I gape at her.
“S-say that again?” My words stutter as disbelief courses through me.
Surely I heard her wrong. Dane told me how he got that scar, the scar I wanted to run my fingers over, to brush my lips against. The scar that caught my eyes immediately back in Blackwood, part of what made him look so different from any of the men I’d ever seen before.
“Weston’s ring cut Dane’s lip open. That’s how he got his scar.”
“No, Dane told me how he got that scar. He said he tripped as a child and fell into a doorframe. His family didn’t have money to take him to a healer.”
She shakes her head. “That may have been what he told you, but I watched it happen, Lennox. I have no reason to lie about that, and you asked me how I knew he had it. Why would I bring it up if it wasn’t true?”
My breaths become shallow as, once again, everything I thought I knew starts crumbling beneath me.
“I know you have training,” Sig continues. “You’re no novice to a fight. Throw the punch in your head. You’ll know I’m telling you the truth.”
I do as she asks, my mind’s eye imagining Weston throwing a punch. The round, thick portion of his ring lining up right where Dane’s scar cuts through his lip.
I sway on my feet, my eyes falling away from Sig as the reality of what she is telling me sinks in.
Dane lied.
On a night he said was all about earning my trust, he lied to my face.
Was anything he ever said true?
I know from living amongst the Castaways, from getting to know Weston, that what he’s said about them hasn’t been accurate, but I told myself there had to be a reason for such a mischaracterization.
“Why did Weston punch Dane? Why would he punch the Guardian?” I ask.
She pauses and I look up, searching her face.
“He wasn’t the Guardian when it happened,” she says. Her shoulders fall as she lets out a deep sigh. “Lennox, Dane killed the last Guardian.”
A loud ringing fills my ears as I stare at Sig. This is it. The last sliver of hope I held that everything I had experienced with Dane was real and true. It is the final piece of the story that kept me from completely trusting Weston.
“No. Weston did,” I say firmly, trying to keep my grasp on something Dane told me, something I knew to be true.
But how did I know it was true? There was never any evidence, anything to convince me other than the word of the Guardian, the protector of Dawnlin.
It was only ever a truth that was accepted among all the Voyagers, because the person we had to trust to bring us here was the one who said it.
“That’s what Dane tells everyone,” Sig says softly.
“Why would he tell everyone if it was a lie?”
“To hide what he did, to make sure everyone believes his illusion. But I saw it happen with my own eyes. I watched him stab the Guardian, the kind old man who had just brought me to Dawnlin hours before, and told me to wait for him as he left for another call.”
My chest heaves with stuttered breaths, but I remain silent as she speaks, soaking in everything I’ve been wanting to know for months.
Her eyes squeeze shut before opening and landing on my face again, as if she’s trying to convince herself that finally telling me what I need to know is the right thing, that she won’t be in trouble for finally filling me in on the truth.
“The suns were descending in the sky, and I was worried I would be alone all night in this brand new place. I knew nothing about it other than it held the cure I sought. I sat at the plateau and waited for him to return until the air began to shimmer and the Guardian started to appear with a tall man standing beside him.”
“Weston,” I whisper, and Sig nods.
“They hadn’t fully appeared yet before they were falling to the ground. Someone had catapulted through the glowing dust, taking them both down from behind.”