Chapter 20 Where You Go, I Go
Chapter twenty
Where You Go, I Go
Bash
They say the Siren lures and the Kraken drags you under, and in that London tavern bearing their names, both legends prove true.
— Anonymous mariner
The world was a little more right back in simple pants and a shirt.
It was made even more right by the sword and pistol beneath my cloak.
The snow fell around me, decorating the stone beneath my feet as I leaned against the Siren and the Kraken.
The moon was high amid the stars, and I was beginning to question whether she was coming just like I had that second night.
I ran my hand over the wood of the fake and let the smoothness lull me into false calm.
It was tangible and real. The snow touching me was real.
Too long in Newgate, and sometimes I found myself questioning whether this was all a dream.
If I thought about it too long, I would probably wake up freezing while a rat crawled over me.
The sounds of crying and screaming would play like a symphony within stone walls.
“You look like someone I shouldn’t talk to.” Her voice flew with the wind, wrapping around me like a potent tonic.
I tilted my head to see her on the opposite side of the building and found that not breathing must be contagious because it was hard to take a full breath from the ache that filled my chest. Rosamund Bailey was as beautiful beneath a fur-lined black silk coat as she was in a ballgown.
With the snow falling down around her- well, I was sure I conjured her into this dream.
“But you are going to talk to me anyway because your sense of self-preservation is startlingly lacking,” I said.
Even beneath her cloak, her hips swished with an innate confidence. What a difference a year made. It didn’t matter whether she stumbled towards me or walked with the grace of a Siren. I would have fallen at her feet regardless.
I existed only in the space she did as she stood in front of me. I was jealous of the snow that fell on her lips. The urge to wipe it from them made my fingers twitch. She reached her hands to my coat and pulled me a little closer.
“I think I’ve been here before,” she purred.
Finding willpower to be only theoretical, I lifted my icy fingers to her mouth and wiped away the collected snow. She darted out her tongue and followed my lead in a way that had me seeing stars. I needed to remind myself I was frustrated with her, else I would lose all resolve.
“Except this time you are engaged,” I said, voice rough.
Her eyes searched mine, and I instantly regretted the comment. I didn’t want to be the reason the fire in her dimmed. She was as confusing and changing as the winds and seas, but I loved following in her dance even when it was infuriating.
“You’re mad at me,” she said, the words like they were inevitable rather than a question.
Tracing the outline of her jaw and cheekbones, I sighed.
“You cornered me. There was no chance to say anything other than yes. Now, unless I am willing to sacrifice your place in this world, I’m obligated to fulfill the role of fiancée and heir.”
“Better than the gallows,” she whispered.
I sucked in a breath and allowed my hand to rest around her pale throat. The power that flooded my veins was a potent stimulant as she let loose a shaky breath. Squeezing gently, I lowered my face to hers, holding her gaze so she would know I meant every damn word.
“They were mine to choose,” I said.
Rosamund Bailey was an anomaly for scholars to study for hundreds of years to come.
She should have pulled away and placed blessed distance between us, but instead she took the final step into me.
Her warmth amidst London’s chill was better than any fire.
I knew the things she’d done to keep me alive.
Nightmares were my constant companion for worry over how it tainted who she was.
This woman beneath my hand, though, was made of steel that was impossible to break.
“Not anymore. The moment you let me have you, you were mine whether you realized it or not.”
Words thrown back at me with just as much ownership as when I said them to her months ago, onboard the Wraith. It was probably the lack of purpose and overall existential crisis that came with finding everything I worked for was ash on the wind, but I liked how those words settled in my chest.
“I never stole your free will.” I countered.
Her laugh was a ghost on All Hallows ’ Eve seeking retribution.
“Shall I go walk to the execution dock and announce myself as Hellcat Smith?”
She stepped back, and my grip on her neck tightened. It didn’t matter. She knew she won, and her lips curved into a feline sort of smile that whispered she was the cat and I the mouse.
“So what will it be, Edward, will you let me be the reason you choose to live, or will we hang together?”
One question pulled at my mind. One that punctured through the illusions I’d spent years draping over my mind. If I’d known this is how it would end, would I have still chosen to follow her two years ago into this very establishment?
I must be a very stupid man because there was only one answer, and it was louder than any sea banshee’s call.
Rose waited with infinite patience, but her rapid heartbeat beneath my fingers gave her away. Steel or not, she was unsure if I would still curse her name or praise it. It would seem even Captain Hellcat Smith still had learning to do.
The air we shared blew in cold smoke, settling between us before the falling snow called it home.
“You changed my flag,” I said.
I swear to god, the gods, the seas, and the winds that the night sky never sparkled the way her green eyes did just then.
I could spend my whole life chasing after the feeling of watching joy alight her from within, and I would never find a similar novelty on any shore.
Pirate, aristocrat, fiancé, they could call me whatever they wanted as long as she called me hers.
I’d fight to hear her laugh that carried on the snowy winds straight into my weak heart every day she kept me by her side.
“It’s an improvement. Everyone likes mine better,” she said.
“I’m putting my flag back up the moment I get back to my ship,” I said.
“That might be difficult considering I burned it for the abomination it was.”
The growl that broke from my chest was frustration and need. She was infuriating, and she was mine. The urge to grab her and throw her over my shoulder was louder with every beat of my heart, but even the Siren might feel the need to intervene if I burst through her doors like that.
Plan B then.
I released her and grabbed her hand, tugging her hard enough that she yelped as I dragged her into the Siren.
It was late, and most of her patrons were across the street at the mermaid or in their beds upstairs, but a few lingered.
True to her nature, no one batted more than an eyelash as we moved up the stairs, Rose giggling behind me like I wasn’t about to ruin her.
The creaking stairs gave way to the landing, and just a few more steps, we were in front of the room we’d shared two years ago.
“What a romantic.” Rose grinned.
Her cheeks were flushed scarlet, and her eyes danced with anticipation.
The breathless quality to her words and the rapid rise and fall of her chest were all carefully catalogued away in my mind.
I never wanted to forget this version of her.
Carefree, reckless, chaotic. Everything that made her Rosamund Bailey.
Pushing open the door, I had a total of two seconds before she slipped in behind me and pushed me against the closing door. Her hands gripped my waist, desperation clinging to her eyes, but there was one problem with her show of dominance.
I raised a brow, fighting my smirk.
“A little short, don’t you think, Princess?”
Eyes flashing, I should have known better than to underestimate the woman before me. I half expected her to crawl up my body and devour me, but instead she dropped to her knees, holding my gaze like a beacon in the night.
Fire raced along my spine as I read her intent.
The world went still as she worked at my sword belt, once clumsy fingers now deft beneath the seas’ tutelage.
Sword falling to the floor, she began working on my pants, and now I knew her affliction of not breathing was contagious.
My chest refused to rise while she was wearing that hungry smirk.
My cock strained against my pants, an aching hollowing me out.
I watched as she finished her devious work and admired my length as if she were in the British Museum.
I swore to god that I’d do whatever she asked if she ended this torture.
The need I felt for her was killing me, and it took all my control not to thread my fingers through her hair and bring her mouth to my cock.
“I think I’m tall enough,” she hummed.
The earth shook as she lowered her head and licked her tongue from shaft to tip, eyes burning into mine. Power jolted through me and straight up my back. How I remained standing was a mystery. Running her hands up my legs and over my thighs, she wrapped one around me and squeezed gently.
Fuck, this was a torture worse than anything Newgate could conceive. If she didn’t put her pretty little mouth around me, I would combust into a thousand particles.
“Something wrong, Captain?” she asked, swirling her tongue around the tip.
God, this woman.
“Rosamund,” I begged, voice raspy.
“Say you missed me,” she ordered.
My cock twitched as she licked along the sides one after another.
Cruel woman.
“I missed you.” I pleaded.
I was rewarded with her mouth, but only for a brief second, tongue dancing around me. When she pulled back, I realized I was beginning to lose coherent thought.
“Say you won’t leave me again.”