Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
CYRUS
My crew chatter all around me– not that I’m really listening– drinking, placing bets and wondering who will end up in who’s bed.
I’m not paying attention. No, my attention is across the tavern, on the woman serving up tankards to already too drunk pirates. Tally’s too beautiful. I don’t understand how she can be so breathtaking.
Her dark hair, loose and flowing down her back. The ends grazing the ridiculous swell of her arse. An arse that I can see jiggling through the thin material of her linen dress every time she moves.
When she bends over– which has got to be on purpose, as each time she moves her arse is bent in my direction– the fabric shows off the round globes perfectly.
Leaving me sitting here squirming. My underwear are wrecked by this point, and it’s lucky I’m not a man or my arousal would be overly obvious.
As it is, I’m struggling to not let out any noises.
I’m out of sorts sitting here watching her.
At least I’m not acting any different, I usually sit amongst my crew silent, only occasionally adding a comment. But with the way things are at the moment with Amara, they wouldn’t bat an eye at me being completely silent.
Continuing to stare down Tally as she works, time moves by quickly. Until I decide it’s time to move before my arousal gets any more out of control and I ruin my trousers as well as my underwear.
It’s time to be brave and visit my Captain again. Even if I know she won’t be awake yet, I still need to check on her. And check on Mabel too.
Pushing to my feet, and throwing a few coins on the table and wishing goodnight to my crew. I glance over once more to Tally, catching her shimmering eyes in a heated stare before heading to the staircase at the back of the room.
Taking the stairs two at a time, it doesn’t take me long to reach Amara’s door and I have to battle with the rolling anxiety of seeing her laying there unconscious.
I know I don’t have a choice, I need to see her.
Delaying walking through that door will only make it worse.
Will only give time for the panic to grow.
Taking a deep breath, I knock before walking in.
I’m met with exactly what I expect– Amara laid flat in bed, unmoving other than the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her arm draped over her front in a sling. Black hair in a tangled mess around her.
Mabel sits in the wingback chair next to the bed, slumped over the edge of the mattress, her hand clasped tight over Amara’s loose one. Her auburn hair is like a halo, blocking out her face. Even covered, I can tell she’s asleep too.
Trying to make as little noise as possible, I clean up around them– not that there's a lot to do– refill the water pitcher, change the water and rags and clean off sweat from Amara’s face.
As well as making a mental note to bring a change of clothes for Mabel.
She’s still wearing the bloody clothes from the battle, that can’t be comfortable in the slightest. It’s been two days.
Keeping my outward appearance calm and collected as usual, I let my insides riot.
This has been my normal for as long as I can remember. Holding the panic and fear inside. But on the outside no one suspects a thing.
Silently, I walk out the room, getting one last look at my Captain before the door clicks shut and I walk to my room down the hall. Once the silence descends, that's when my walls collapse.
Sliding down the doorframe, I rest my arms on my knees, ducking my head between them.
Letting my lungs fracture open on small puffs of air.
Seeing Amara like that makes everything hurt. My one constant in my life, left lying in a bed not knowing when or if she’ll ever wake up.
I know the crew are feeling the pain too. Seeing them in the tavern tonight made it obvious enough– the other crews dancing about, drinking and laughing– whilst they sat there melancholy. Even after taking out the biggest enemy on the seas.
Time passes slowly as I sit here, staring at the specks of dirt along the wooden floor. I don’t move until my chest no longer feels tight, until the weight of the world ebbs slightly from my shoulders. And when I do move it’s only to lift my head, thumping it off the door.
Then I watch the stars light up the sky through the dusty window.
Once upon a time, I would have tried to make myself feel better. Tried to tell myself that, once the next big hurdle is out the way, I’d be fine. I don’t bother anymore. The panic still comes, so what's the point?
Forcing my lungs to take deep breaths, I shove myself to stand and strip off. I need to bathe. Being in water always helps the panic lesson. I think it’s why being out on the open ocean felt like the right decision.
Why being in that lake with Tally felt so right.