Chapter 4
Chapter Four
TALLY
The water is cool against my skin, taming the undeniable heat flooding through me.
Cyrus’s dark skin shimmers with light reflected from the water as she rushes to descend into it. When she emerges she’s something from a deep fantasy, flicking her head back to get her hair off her face. A stream of water floating in an arc behind her. Scarred fingers pushing through the strands.
She starts to wash the blood from her skin. Not once looking my way, as if an invisible force was stopping her from doing so.
It gives me the perfect opportunity to watch her.
With only her head and shoulders sticking out the water, I settle on her face. The deep blue of her eyes. The sharp point of her chin with an equally sharp jaw. The gentle curve of her nose and luscious plump lips that would be devastating to kiss.
To feel anywhere.
Her eyes are rimmed red and it's obvious to tell she’s using the water to hide her silent tears.
She’s a tough cookie to crack, one that doesn’t allow herself to break in public. Yet she’s allowing herself to crack in front of me– even if she’s disguising it.
I can’t make a big deal of it, this moment must be incredibly rare for her.
Distracting myself, I begin to scrub the blood off my own body. The dry thickness itching the skin beneath it.
We settle into the silence. Taking the time we both need to get things straight in our own heads. Until she breaks the silence.
“How do you know of this place?”
I sigh wistfully, remembering the days my Father would bring me here when we would walk the land.
With him ill and me taking over the island, it’s not something we do anymore.
“There’s not an inch of this Island I don’t know.
Me and my Father would walk the land together.
Often ending here to clean up before heading back to Mama for supper. ”
She nods, shadows crossing over her eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she stops to let out a sigh. “I wish I had memories like that.”
Her words break me slightly.
Especially as the shadows across her face grow stronger.
“It’s never too late to make memories.” I whisper, letting the words carry on the breeze.
She shakes her head and dunks herself again, waiting a few seconds before reemerging. Water pouring over her skin, sun streaks glittering off her wet flesh. Looking like a four course meal.
She’s delicious and I have the feeling she has no idea.
She goes back to silence, as I fill the air with humming. An old song my Mama would sing to me whenever I would cry as a child. I always found it comforting, chasing away nightmares and temper tantrums alike. Maybe it can comfort her too.
Or at least fill in the empty silence.
We carry on that way, me humming and her silent. Both scrubbing at our skin to remove the stench of the fight.
Although I think the caked blood and dirt under my nails is destined to stay a little longer, no matter how much I scrub at them, without a nailbrush it's useless.
A choked sob breaks the next moment, drawing my gaze back to Cyrus from my filthy nail beds.
Her head is tipped back, eyes scrunched shut as water droplets– that can’t be from the pool we’re swimming in– run down her cheeks.
My heart squeezes at the obvious pain coursing through her.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been out to sea, but after being around pirates most of my life, I know how each one operates. Their crews are their families. Losing one of them is like losing a sibling. And with how close I know Cyrus is to Amara, that wound must cut even deeper.
Yet, they all know the risks. They’re all somewhat prepared for the day the person fighting alongside them might fall.
For someone so stoic, Amara being hurt– although she is badly hurt– isn’t what this is all about. There’s something else too. Or maybe this is just an accumulation of everything.
Why the fuck do I care anyway?
My chest constricts, making me choose compassion over ignorance.
Swimming over, I stand in front of her and place a gentle hand on her shoulder. A shiver racks its way through her body and her bottom lip wobbles with the need to let go.
My voice is nothing more than a whisper in the wind. “She’ll be okay, she’ll be back to bossing everyone around in no time. She’ll be back to being your Captain soon.”
That causes another sob to break free.
Her eyes are still shut when she speaks. “She’s not mine.”
That's when the spark in my brain lights up. Not only is Amara injured, but she’s desperately in love with someone. Someone that is not Cyrus.
And now Cyrus’s love is unrequited.
That would explain her past rejections and makes a lot of what I know about the Burnt Bones crew click into place.
“Unrequited love is a bitch.” I mutter before wrapping my arms around her and dragging her into me.
The second her body is pressed against mine, the dam finally breaks. She cries softly into my neck, wrapping her own arms around me and pinning me tighter to her.
It’s the wrong moment to realise it after what she just admitted, but her body feels perfect against mine. Like we complete the puzzle to one another. Everything just fits into place, something I’ve never experienced with a lover before.
Not that she’s my lover.
We stand like this for a while, until her tears dry up and her breaths have evened out. When I gently release her, I plant a delicate kiss on her cheek before turning and heading back to the bank where our clothes sit.
Taking a seat on the grass whilst my skin dries under the gentle breeze and midday sun, enjoying the sounds of animals in the brush scattering about.
Cyrus takes a moment to herself before joining me on the bank.
She sits a few feet from me and instantly crunches up so her nakedness is hidden. Shame for her, I can still see the curve of her arse and hips. And the tempting swell of her voluptuous breasts above her arm.
Sitting back on my hands, I stretch out my legs and drop my head back between my shoulders. With everything on display. Which, why the fuck am I doing that? She basically just admitted to being in love with her Captain.
Maybe I can be the distraction she needs.
Maybe I just want attention.
Her attention.
What can I say, I’m a whore for attention and having her focus on me is a hard won prize. Maybe it's the chase I’m liking.
I want to win her over.