Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I had left her on that shore with a lie and the taste of her still on my tongue, telling myself distance was a mercy, that the only way to keep her alive was to put enough water between us so the curse could not use her.
Now that same water was the only thing standing between me and whatever August intended to do to her on that cliff.
I was prepared to become the beast and kill the man, all so that she could live in peace. I’d be fucking damned if I let August change that now.
The two Crown and Compass ships remained visible through the break in the weather, still on the far side of the island.
I did not ease off when the water grew shallow, nor when the sand threatened the keel. I would get to her, even if this ship went down.
“Finch!” I called as soon as we were close enough to shore to launch the dinghy. “Take the helm!”
I didn't wait to see if he made it or not.
I dropped into the dinghy and rowed hard for shore.
Waves broke over the bow and filled the bottom of the boat.
Salt and rain pummeled my face and blurred my vision, but I barely felt it.
The scars across my back burned with an immortal heat that I knew deep in my bones meant her death was imminent.
When the dinghy hit sand, I threw myself overboard, boots sinking into wet earth.
The path up the side of the cliff was steep and treacherous with mud.
Images of her hand in mine fluttered across my vision, the sound of her laugh and the warmth of sunshine on my skin invading every sense. I knew this trail.
Thorns tore at my coat and the backs of my hands, and twice my footing went out from under me.
I caught myself on raw stone hard enough to split skin, but I did not slow.
The burn in my scars only grew sharper the higher I climbed, the same pull that had dragged me across one hundred forgotten years toward this exact stretch of land.
Visions of her silhouette falling from the cliff above urged me forward.
It was a sight I’d seen too many times in my life, and one that I would never see again.
Lightning tore the sky open above me and turned everything white for a single heartbeat. In that flash, I saw the ledge.
Two figures were locked together near the drop.
August Quincy stood with his fist knotted in dark, rain-soaked hair, his body angled to force the smaller figure toward the empty air.
The second figure wore my favorite shade of blue and a belt of rope and sea glass that reflected every flash of lightning.
Her bare feet were already at the crumbling lip of the cliff.
She fought him, every furious angle of her body turned against the grip in her hair, but the ground under her was giving way in small pieces.
Corynne.
I pushed harder, the muscles in my legs screaming as I forced them to move faster, climb higher, get to her. I would not fail her this time. My Stellaviva.
“I’m coming, Beastie!” I shouted above the torrential downpour.
The words were torn away by the wind as soon as they left my mouth, but I kept running.
Mud sucked at my boots and every upward step sent a fresh spike of heat through the scars between my shoulder blades, the map itself screaming that time was running out.
I cleared the last rise with my lungs burning.
The men turned at the sound of my approach.
Corynne’s eyes found mine over his shoulder, a mix of dread, anger, and relief shining in her deep brown eyes.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” I snarled above the storm.