Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Thunder rumbles in the distance, and I stir awake at the sound, stretching my body beneath the cool sheets.
I reach across the bed, searching for Weston’s warmth, only to find it empty.
My eyes are still heavy with sleep when I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. I peer into the room, searching through the darkness and shadows for Weston, but there’s no sign of him.
Worry coats my stomach as I throw the sheets back and slide out of bed, finding Weston’s shirt quickly and slipping it over my head.
I pad across the room, the door no longer locking me in when I turn the handle and step into the hallway, glancing down the steps and across the way toward the crew, only to find everything empty and silent with slumber.
By now, I’ve gotten used to him disappearing first thing in the morning to open the ship and make sure anyone who is on the island returns safely, but it isn’t morning. The sky is still dark, and not just from the storm clouds I assume are overhead from the continued sound of thunder.
Where is he?
I take the steps to the main deck quickly, my bare feet hitting the wooden boards soundlessly.
My worry drifts away the moment I peek over the threshold, and my eyes fall on him, sitting on the rail of the ship, feet dangling over the side as he looks out over the water toward land.
Shadows settle in every groove of his muscular back and slumped shoulders.
He hasn’t heard me, probably from the sound of the churning water and the wind whistling through the sails, so I take the opportunity to just watch him.
My eyes trace over his body, and all the tells it gives me.
For someone who was so alive and relaxed earlier today, he’s feeling none of that now. I still can’t believe that after living a life of never truly knowing another person, I have someone that I know well enough to tell how they are feeling just by looking.
And Weston is feeling.
Lightning flashes in the distance, followed by the rumble of thunder a few seconds later. I take advantage of the additional noise and pad across the deck. In times of his internal turmoil, he needs someone to be there beside him. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, and I want him to know that.
He turns his head over his shoulder just as I reach him, always in tune with my presence, even in the beginnings of a storm.
My fingertips skim along his waist as I wrap my arms around him and press my cheek into his back, soaking up his heat.
His hands grip my forearms, and my skin erupts in goosebumps as his thumbs gently stroke the sensitive skin under my wrists.
“Couldn’t sleep?” My voice, hoarse with sleep, was made even worse from the time spent playing and yelling on the beach today.
My head rises and falls with his back as he lets out a deep sigh. “No.”
“Nightmare?” I tilt my chin while still staying pressed into him, if only so I can try to see his face.
He shakes his head. “No.”
I tug on my arms and he releases them, albeit reluctantly, so I can step to his side.
Gripping the rail, I pull myself up and swing one leg after the other over before sitting, my legs dangling just as his are.
The coarse palm of his hand finds my thigh, and he shifts his body closer to me so our legs are touching.
I grip the rail harder and fight off a shiver as his hand gently slides up my skin, settling on my inner thigh.
There’s just enough pressure that I know he’s not only steadying me so I don’t fall but also reveling in my touch.
I’m still not used to how easily he touches me, not after we spent months avoiding any sort of physical contact. Now, I know he craves it just as much as I do.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, the night air punctuated only by the occasional bout of thunder and the familiar crash of waves.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I finally ask, but keep my gaze forward, not wanting to pressure him.
“Only with you.”
Warmth blooms in my chest, and his fingers flex on my thigh as he lets out a harsh breath. “Am I making the right decision?”
“About what?” I pull my gaze away from the island to look up at him, and the tension I saw etched into his shoulders is written on his face too.
“Telling the Voyagers about the healing waters.”
The rising wind whips at my hair, but I ignore it as I try to think through all the possibilities, just as Edmond would expect me to. “Have you already decided?”
His jaw ticks as he drops his chin, his focus drawn to where his hand still clutches my thigh.
“I’ve protected it for this long. I’ve left it up to the island to decide who finds it.
But now, it feels different. Does it still need to be protected now that Dane is gone?
Does keeping it hidden even matter anymore? ”
“Was the decision even up to the island?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“Did Dawnlin actually decide who finds the waters and who doesn’t? I asked for a map to help me search, and so did Taril, and both of us found it. But as far as I know, no one else in the crew did. Everyone found it on their own.”
Weston sits silently, mulling over my thoughts.
“It also doesn’t explain how Fin found it. He’s a child, and while he was out looking, he was mainly just exploring and playing. It seems like he stumbled upon it more than it was revealed to him.”
“That’s true,” he murmurs, his eyes still trained on the island before us.
“All the dangers around the mountain seem like they were put there to keep people away and protect the waters, not to help lead people to them. There were signs and symbols, yes, but anyone could have seen those. They didn’t magically appear.
It’s not controlling who gets there and who doesn’t, and I don’t think you should put that weight on yourself. ”
He lets out a deep sigh. “You’re right, but I can’t help it. And even if there isn’t a concern over those left in the Voyagers and whether or not they should have found the waters, it doesn’t make how I feel about the decision any easier.”
Weston’s hand moves as he thinks, his fingers tracing the length of my inner thigh, and I sigh, my shoulders sagging as my muscles relax.
I think about everything that has happened since I stepped foot on the island, and everything that led me to it.
My life in Blackwood. My father’s isolation. My duty as the future queen.
I think about the future I thought I would take back by staying on Dawnlin. Being told I was unworthy. Having the chance of returning home ripped from my fingers.
The decision to let my mother go.
A lump forms in my throat, and I try to swallow it down.
“Maybe,” I start, clearing my throat as years of feelings that always accompany the pit forming in my stomach come rushing back. “Maybe it’s not our decision. Maybe it’s theirs. They should have a choice.”
It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Now that I’m able to step outside of my world, one where I had no control over my life or future, it’s easy to see the root cause of it all.
So much of my pain and sorrow stems simply from not being able to choose for myself.
I’m at the mercy of my father, of Brynne, of Edmond.
Of tradition and expectations. Of duty. I don’t think we should take that choice away from the Voyagers.
“In Blackwood, the most crushing part of my life was having every choice taken from me. The big ones, at least. I thought it was better here, but again and again I was proven wrong. With the island, with Dane, with the dust, with you.”
His head snaps up, and his eyes find mine instantly. The stroke of his fingertips on my skin stills as the muscles in his face tighten.
“You feel like I didn’t give you a choice?”
Thunder rumbles out over the sea, matching the turmoil I feel watching Weston fall so easily back into the man he was weeks ago, who built a wall of expectations and duty between us. It stings that he can so easily bring it back up again the moment he feels he did something wrong.
“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” I say and settle my hand on top of his, squeezing it tightly. His face relaxes slightly, but I know he’s still battling the internal struggle of crossing boundaries with his princess, no matter how many times I’ve told him I didn’t care about them.
“I’m not talking about being with you. I chose you, Weston, despite all your attempts to push me away.
Besides the decision to find Dawnlin, it was the best decision I’ve made.
It’s probably the only actual decision I’ve made for myself, and I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.
If I didn’t want you.” His shoulders sink slightly, and his thumb starts slowly stroking my skin again.
I tilt my head and shoot him a look. “But you didn’t exactly give me a choice to come to the ship, did you? ”
“You know why I couldn’t,” he grumbles.
I nod. “I do now, but I didn’t then. I just had the chance to save my mother ripped away from me, and then you appeared and tied me up.”
“Technically, Sig did.”
I fix him with a glare, and he smiles sheepishly.
“My point is, I felt like it was just another part of my life decided for me, and it was hard. Then, when I found out everything you hid from me, I was so angry that you took away yet another choice. You didn’t let me decide whether to hate you or believe you. I was angry.”
He opens his mouth to speak again, but I shake my head, cutting him off.
“Again, I know now why you did it. You thought I wouldn’t believe you, and who knows, maybe I wouldn’t have.
But I was always taught to take in all information before I make a judgment, and you didn’t let me do that.
That is part of who I am, and with everything Dane was doing to manipulate me, I wanted to decide for myself.
That’s why I left, why I did what I did, because I wanted to choose how I could help.
I finally had some freedom to belong and be me, and I don’t ever want to go back to how I was before. ”
“All this is to say.” I shift my hips on the rail, turning my body so I’m facing him.
“I think we give them the choice. We tell them where the entrance is, and they can choose to go inside or not. They can decide if knowing matters more, even if they can’t ever bring it home.
Whatever decision they make, to go in or not, they will have to live with, and then the island will take it from there. ”
He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine in a tender but brief kiss.
“I hate hearing you talk about how hurt you were back home,” he says, leaning back just enough so we still share a breath, “but you’re right.
I’ve protected it for this long, but ultimately the island showed the Voyagers where we are.
It trusts them. They deserve the right to choose, so they don’t have to spend eternity wondering. ”
“I wouldn’t want to,” I whisper.
His forehead presses into mine, but his eyes stay locked on me.
“I’m sorry I made you feel you didn’t have a choice. You know my intention never was to hurt you.”
“I know,” I say, a soft smile playing on my lips. “Just don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.” One corner of his lips turns up in a playful smirk. “It’s funny you think you had a choice with me, though.”
I squeal as he grabs hold of my hips and hauls me over him, setting me onto his lap and wrapping my legs around his torso. I drape my arms around his neck and smile, impressed that he never so much as wavered on the edge of the ship.
“Even if I couldn’t fully have you,” he says, his thumb stroking the underside of my jaw reverently. “To the depths of my soul, you were always mine.”
Warmth explodes in my body as I stare into his eyes that dance between mine, finding them filled with tender devotion and desire.
“I’m always yours, Weston. And you’re mine. For eternity.”
The grin that splits his face melts away any worry I had that his previous reservations about being with me were surfacing again, and I can’t help but return it.
“For eternity,” he repeats back.
The sky flashes above us, and this time the quick rumble of thunder that follows is much louder. Weston tears his gaze away from me and looks toward the coming storm before throwing his legs back over the rail and depositing my feet on deck.
“I want to take you somewhere. I want to get there before the storm hits.” He looks me up and down, and I can only imagine how I look right now.
I slipped only his shirt over my naked body before leaving the room to find him, and my waves are tangled from the wind.
My cheeks heat as I glance down, finding my bare legs and at the way open buttons expose the curve of my breasts.
Anyone could have woken and seen way more of me than I would be comfortable with, especially when we aren’t swimming.
“While I love seeing you in my shirt,” he says, his eyes gliding up and down my body, catching on the exposed skin of my chest and causing desire to throb between my thighs, “we need to get you some pants first.”