Chapter 42
The ring hit the floor like the final toll of a bell, marking the end of Will’s resistance.
This woman would be his undoing. How many years had he spent clawing to the top, pushing down anyone who got in his way?
How many battles had he fought, how many trials had he overcome, to be where he was today?
He was untouchable, nearly invincible. He was a Sky Lord, demanding respect and obedience and fear from all who heard his name or dared to challenge his authority.
No one challenged his authority anymore. No one except Amaya fucking Sinclair.
He was going to lose everything for her. And the worst part? He’d give it up gladly if it meant he could call her his.
It was insane.
Inevitable.
And with one simple motion, she’d sealed his fate.
Will turned, stalking back toward Amaya like a lion about to devour his prey.
But Amaya had never been a skittish rabbit.
She didn’t step back. She didn’t even blink.
Her brilliant blue eyes held a silent challenge, what she wanted written across her stupidly gorgeous face.
Will was in no position to deny her—or himself—any longer.
He looked down at the abandoned ring, disdainful, and nudged it away with the toe of his boot.
“Well, that’s a start,” he said. “But I think there’s still some lingering confusion about who’s in charge here.”
Amaya stood her ground as Will closed the distance between them.
He put his hands on her waist and tugged her against him, one arm sliding around her back to hold her there while he lifted her chin with his other hand.
Her lips parted, a tantalizing shade of rose, while her eyes flared with blue flames.
Will ran his thumb along her full bottom lip, nearly losing himself at the thought of what her mouth would feel like on his.
“Do you need a reminder?” he purred.
Amaya narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“No? I disagree.” Will raised an eyebrow at her and leaned in closer.
Maker have mercy, he could almost taste her.
Lavender and vanilla wafted from her skin, an intoxicating combination that flooded his senses.
Keeping her pinned against his body, he swept his hand over her exposed collarbone and lightly dragged his knuckle up her neck and across her cheek.
She was so soft. Will didn’t know anyone could be so soft.
“This is my ship, Amaya. My. Ship. And I am no common pirate. I’m not a smuggler, or a fleetman, or a privateer. I am a Sky Lord, a title hard-won and fiercely defended. I do not have to prove anything to you.”
“I know who you are, Will.”
Her declaration struck him speechless, and Will was surprised to find how much he longed for that to be true.
Amaya had always been like a cloud he wanted to reach for, fall into. But she wasn’t meant to be captured, and whenever he tried, she slipped through his fingers.
She wasn’t slipping now.
Will held her fast, unsure how much longer he could keep himself at bay. Maybe he didn’t have to. But if she wanted this, wanted him, she deserved to know exactly what she was signing up for.
“Here’s what you need to understand, Bluebird.
” He tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing Eagle Eye’s twinkling blue sapphire.
The dark, wavy strands were like silk between his fingers.
“While you are on my ship, under my protection, you respect my leadership. I give the orders, and you obey. But if you say you’re mine .
. .” Will met her eyes with the desperate hunger of a starved animal.
She stood bold and defiant, beautiful and fearless beyond reason.
“Then you’re mine. I’ll stand at your side as long as you let me, as your first and final line of defense.
You’ll have my life and loyalty at your disposal.
And I won’t hold you back, or limit what you can be—but you’ll make me that same promise.
” It was a simple transaction: all of him, for all of her. “What’ll it be?”
Will awaited her answer with bated breath.
His body hummed with electricity, barely contained by a cracking, thinning layer of austerity.
He watched as Amaya searched his face, convinced she was searching the darkest depths of his soul, analyzing every monstrous flaw, assessing every violent tendency, and envisioning every consequence she’d face for aligning herself with him.
In some ways, Will couldn’t begin to comprehend his request’s significance.
But just when he was certain she was about to say no, she nodded, two perfect words falling from her perfect lips.
“I’m yours.”
It was the wrong decision, and they both knew it. But it was too late. With two little words, her fate was sealed, too.
“Then I’m yours.”
Will’s kiss was a tidal wave, merciless and wild and all-consuming.
Amaya’s back arched over the railing from the force of it, but his arms anchored her in place.
He channeled all of his frustration and pent-up passion into forcing her mouth open with his, kissing her as if she’d stolen his air and he wanted it back.
Any remnant of decorum went overboard, greedy hands grabbing at her skirt and winding into the soft curls of her hair.
It wasn’t everything he thought it would be; it was so much more.
And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if everything he’d endured and become in the twenty-six years of his life had led him to this woman, this moment, it was worth it.
He’d do it all over again, as many times as it took, as long as she was waiting for him at the end of the line.
For once, Amaya didn’t fight for dominance. She willfully ceded control, melting into him and letting out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. It awoke something deep and primal within him—something that had been suppressed for years.
Her hands, with all the grace and precision of a pianist, found their way underneath his shirt and up the hard ridges of his abdomen. Her touch was like a purifying fire, heating his skin and melting away the tension held underneath.
Will caught her lower lip between his teeth as he pulled back, pausing only to draw a shallow breath before he dragged his lips down her neck.
“You are infuriating, you know that?” he said. “Absolutely maddening.”
He pelted her skin with fervent kisses, savoring each one as it became his personal mission to adore every inch of her. Her blouse already draped off her shoulders, but Will tugged it down further as he kissed down her neck and across her collarbone.
“And you are the most impossible man I’ve ever met,” Amaya shot back. Her breaths were heavy, her voice weighed down by need. “Pirate.”
Something about the word drew a low rumble from his chest as his mouth traveled back up her neck, across her jaw and to her lips. Amaya was a baffling paradox, equal parts hard and soft, and she was his.
Her nails dug into his skin, every touch stoking the delicious wildfire burning through him. When it became too much, Will gripped her arms and spun her around, bending her over the railing without warning.
“Will!” she gasped, and the breathless vulnerability with which she spoke his name was like a whispered prayer, sacred and disarming and for his ears alone.
“Oh, please.” Will pressed into her, one arm securely around her waist while the other slid across her chest, feeling her rapid heartbeat and the decadent curves that had tormented him since she put on that first corset. “You think I’d let you fall?”
He bent over, making his desire for her startlingly apparent as he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. His lips brushed her ear. When his teeth grazed over her earlobe, he was rewarded with the sound of her shuddering breath.
“Yes.”