Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Leaning against the rail with his ankles crossed out in front of him, Weston stands alone, a bottle dangling from his hands in his lap, watching the game.
Specifically, watching me. My eyes snag on his and I look away quickly.
My cheeks already hurt from smiling and laughing as we play, but I can’t hide it when I catch him looking.
I lift the bottle to my lips again, trying to hide the smile and focus back on the next few rounds.
Hopefully, my ruse is working.
Eventually, Stassia nudges my shoulder, trying to squeeze her way into the circle.
“I’m in! Move over!” Her mood seems to be considerably improved, her joy having returned and I shoot her a smile.
“Take my spot Stass,” I say. “I need a break.”
A chorus of boos led by Jorn sounds around me as I withdraw myself from the circle. Stass slides in behind me, and I fake a stumble into her back as I try to step away. The group laughs, and I join in, faking another wobble before righting myself and making my way across the deck.
Right toward Weston.
He’s motionless as he watches me the entire way, except for his eyes, tracking my every movement as I stumble my way up beside him.
“You didn’t want to play?” I ask, pointing my thumb over my shoulder back at the circle just as a burst of laughter rises into the night.
“I was enjoying watching.” My cheeks heat, and I can’t blame it on the wine.
“But you’re over here by yourself,” I say, leaning my hip onto the rail.
“Not anymore.”
I take a swig of the juice as a distraction from the flame that flickers in my belly at his words.
He tracks the bottle as I lower it, and I raise my eyebrow. “What? Are you going to tell me to slow down?”
Making sure the rest of the crew saw me partaking in the fun was important, but not as important as Weston.
Knowing Sig and I are moving forward with our plans for the night puts me more on edge, and makes me worried he might suspect something is going on, when he otherwise wouldn’t.
I need to be sure. I need to convince him there is no reason to worry, no reason to try to keep track of my whereabouts.
“No, princess,” he says and takes a drink from his own bottle. He swallows and clears his throat. “But if you decide you want to go for a swim after two bottles, then I’ll have no choice but to stop you.”
“You can try,” I say, narrowing my eyes in a challenge.
He smiles, one of his rare full smiles that makes my insides melt. He looks down at his feet like he’s trying to hide it. “Why do you keep putting yourself in danger?”
A thrill courses through my body like a shiver, and I think back to how loose his lips were after he played the game, how he said things I’m sure he wouldn’t otherwise say.
Tonight feels like the right time with a good excuse to say them, especially knowing that everything could be different in a matter of hours.
I can’t deny my feelings for him, and how he makes me feel about myself. Behind the tough exterior and the constant denials, I think he feels it too, more than just this physical attraction that keeps drawing us together.
But there’s something stopping him, and it isn’t Dane.
Is it my title? Or his? Is it my father?
He refuses to accept that we are not in Blackwood, and it is likely we never will be. The expectations and restrictions don’t exist here.
I can’t keep pushing down the pull I feel toward him any longer.
From the moment I opened my eyes and found him hovering over me, begging me to breathe, I’ve felt it.
There’s always been something in the way, but tonight, I want to break down all those barriers, before I put up another one, one he may never get past.
Before I leave and possibly destroy it all.
“Maybe I changed my mind,” I say, my eyes staying fixed on his face. “Maybe I like being rescued.”
He tries to fight it, but loses, and drags his gaze up, teal eyes meeting mine.
“I don’t want to have to, but I will always rescue you, princess,” he grumbles, and a muscle twitches in his cheek. “Please don’t make me have to.”
Clearing my throat, I turn my head, dropping my chin to my shoulder and gaze out over the water. I can’t handle the emotion behind his words, behind his stare, not tonight of all nights. Not when I know I’m going to do exactly what he doesn’t want me to, and told Sig not to let him rescue me.
A sharp pain slices through my tongue as I bite into it, trying not to respond to the conversation I had started. I tap my hand on the wooden rail, trying to find a way out of this corner I’ve backed myself into.
“You did great earlier, with what you said. I think the entire crew appreciated you being honest with them.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs. The glint of the fire on the glass bottle catches my eye as he raises it to his lips.
“What were they saying? The ones who came up to you after?” I ask. I set my bottle down on the rail and face him again.
Jorn had been so understanding and supportive, probably knowing it was extremely hard for Weston to get up and address his crew about something he considers a failure.
Others might not have been so understanding though, and I worry that even though everyone seems to be moving forward now, they gave him grief in the moment.
“They weren’t upset with me, if that is what you are worried about.”
“Good,” I breathe.
“They more want to talk about what comes next and how we’re going to exist here forever with the Voyagers still on the island. I don’t think anyone wants to stay on this ship forever.”
“Are you thinking about some kind of truce?”
He shrugs. “If there’s no way to leave, then we have to figure something out. At that point, finding the waters means nothing, and it wouldn’t matter if Dane knows where they are because he can’t leave either. We’d need to find a way to coexist.”
He is right. We can’t stay in hiding forever, especially if there is no way to get off the island with or without the waters. We would need to make contact with them and work out some sort of life together.
Only if my plan fails.
“I can’t imagine how different that would be, all of us together on the island.”
He takes another sip from the bottle with a slow nod. “It would be.”
“Are you worried about Dane?” I ask.
Worry etches across his forehead, and every hint of his smile from moments ago is gone. The thoughtful, serious captain is back, and I can’t help but remember how I still feel like there is something he isn’t telling me.
“Are you?” His eyebrows draw together as he tries to read my face.
“No.”
The tension in his shoulders drops and his forehead relaxes.
“I realize how much he lied to me, and how quickly I believed everything he said because I was starving for friendship.” I gulp down the lump in my throat, the realization of how badly Dane hurt me finally hitting.
I hadn’t planned to admit this all to Weston tonight, but if this is what he needs, this reassurance that I don’t have any feelings for Dane any longer, and that they were all based on a lie, then I’ll give it to him.
“He used that against me. He exploited my one true weakness, and the worst part is, I don’t know why. Why me?”
His throat bobs and I think he wants to say something, but I don’t let him. I want to get this out, so he has no more reasons to hold back.
“In the end, it doesn’t matter why, it just matters that it happened, and it’s over. I’m not the same person I was when I met Dane, and I never will be again. I don’t want him to affect my relationships anymore. He may control the island, but he doesn’t control me.”
“I’m glad to hear that, princess.”
His eyes soften, and I step in front of him before I lose my nerve.
A look of confusion comes over his face as he uncrosses his ankles, shifting to stand, but he freezes and watches as I close the space between us, stepping between his knees.
I grab the bottle out of his hands and lift it to my lips, taking a quick pull.
The burn of the drink heats me from the inside out, but I need the bit of courage that my bottle won’t give me.
Reaching over and leaning into him, I set it on the rail, hoping that will be enough to let me say what I want to say. My breath catches as I feel his hands wrap around my waist, his fingertips pressing into my sides.
“What are you doing?” he says softly, and the entire ship drops away. It’s only me and him, standing under the stars.
My heart pounds in my ears as I step closer, leaving only a breath between us, and reach out to grasp the bottom of his vest. The feel of the leather on my hands and the brush of the linen shirt on the backs of my fingers grounds me.
I don’t trust myself touching him, but my fingers itch to slide under his vest and run over his firm chest. If I do, I don’t think I could stop there.
Gulping, I push the thought of his round, firm muscles out of my mind.
“Giving you your truth,” I say. I try to keep my voice giddy and bubbly but don’t feel convincing, not after how erratic being this close to him is making me feel.
We may never be this close ever again, not after tonight.
I hope he forgives me.
“I didn’t win the bet,” he says. His voice is low, and his chin is tucked to his chest as he watches me.
I lean closer, my chest brushing against him, and I feel his stomach tighten.
“We could make another one,” I whisper playfully.
I can blame the wine if I need to.
The corner of his lips twitches as he slides his hands down my sides before settling on my hips, his thumbs pressing into my hipbones and sending off flutters between my thighs.
His eyes are dark, his pupils wide as he takes me in, and the way he’s looking at me makes me think he’s also forgotten we’re standing in the middle of the deck, surrounded by the crew.
“What do you want to bet?” he murmurs.
Fuck.