Chapter 31
Yves’s anger was a bruise that never healed, yellowing and receding only to be prodded back to life by his own pride. He felt the ache of it as the hailing flag ran up the mast, and he waited to see if the Siren would respond.
After sating death in Kadling Kay, Yves had tried to sail away.
Tried to leave Rowan to his own mistakes.
But it didn’t stick. After only a few days, it became too much.
He’d had no choice but to find him. The demon’s instincts had urged him north.
Rowan’s presence somewhere in the sea ahead of them tugging at the dark waters in him like a moon to the tides.
Did Rowan know the sway he held over Yves? How thoughts of Rowan consumed him utterly? Yves thought not. Rowan was just a man after all. He did not see how he brought the only light into Yves’s dark world.
Finally, after weeks of sailing, the skull-and-wings of Rowan’s insignia had snapped on the horizon, and Yves had known his instincts had not led him astray.
The Siren sailed slowly, and at first Yves had worried Rowan had run into trouble, but as the Kraken gained on the smaller ship, he spotted the prey Rowan had in his sights.
Now Yves held his breath, waiting for the little ship ahead to either respond or flee.
He wouldn’t blame Rowan if he wanted nothing to do with him anymore.
The Kraken would never be able to catch the Siren if Rowan decided to run away.
For once, he was at the mercy of Rowan’s whims, and he hated it.
“Are you gonna hold your breath till you pass out?” Doe appeared beside him, her presence as his first mate somewhat more motherly than John’s, but no less sarcastic. What curse had befallen Yves that he was fated to always have a first mate who challenged him but was too competent to get rid of?
“He wouldn’t refuse me,” Yves said darkly, exhaling as he saw the Siren run up the flag that meant they could meet. The distance between the two ships closed quickly, and now that seeing Rowan again was inevitable, Yves’s anger flared once again.
“I don’t know what kind of fucked up game you two are playing, Captain, but if you keep going like this he’ll leave you.”
“None of your business,” Yves growled. She didn’t have to tell him.
He knew. The incorporeal tentacles at his back twitched in annoyance.
His worry for Rowan’s safety grew with each day they drew closer to the Sleeping Isles, and with it, his anger over the fact that Rowan seemed to possess not a scrap of self-preservation.
With each moment, Yves felt his control slipping into the dark depths of the water below.
Before, his mind had been harmonious. Hounded by death, yes, but one with the demon.
But for the past few days, the demon had been pushing to the surface more and more, fighting for dominance.
Was it his separation from Rowan that had it chomping at the bit?
Or the nearness to the place it was imprisoned?
The dark waters were rising, growing more powerful.
Too large for the human part of Yves to contain, as if it would burst through his skin.
“Should we ready a boat for you, Captain?” Doe asked, unperturbed by Yves’s foul mood. The Siren was within range now, but he could see them preparing a boat already.
“No need. It seems that my husband is coming to us.”
Rowan arrived with storm clouds around his head. “Make it quick,” he snapped as soon as he stepped onto the deck, leaving behind the crew members who’d rowed in the boat. He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. “The more time you waste the more likely we are to lose them.”
Yves’s chest tightened. They hadn’t exactly been kind to each other the last few times they’d met, but this was openly hostile. His pride prodded anger back to the surface.
“We have something to discuss.”
“Well? Spit it out, then.”
Fury engulfed him, burning away the tenderness that had been slumbering beneath.
The demon gnashed its teeth, ready to sink them into Rowan’s flesh.
Rowan smirked as Yves grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the stateroom.
The door slammed behind them, and Yves pushed Rowan against the table, chairs clattering to the floor.
“Obstinate wretch,” Yves hissed, seizing Rowan’s face in one hand, squeezing, feeling Rowan’s teeth through his cheeks. “I am trying to protect you.”
Fuck, it felt good to touch him again. So fragile. So beautiful and tenuous with all his mortal imperfections. Yves wanted to destroy him. His mouth watered for it.
Rowan slapped his hand away. “Funny, protecting me looks an awful lot like hurting me,” he snarled, working his sore jaw from side to side. Yves backed off half a step.
Had he actually hurt him? They’d always played rough, and Rowan never seemed to mind.
“Rowan—”
“No. Fucking listen to me. I did well enough before you came along, and I’m doing fine now. You weren’t there when that ship out there attacked, yet here I am hale and whole. I don’t need your protection and you won’t convince me to abandon course. So either shut up or stop following me!”
Yves’s resolve hardened. The demon’s darkness surged to the forefront of his mind like a flash flood.
Those fuckers had attacked their beloved.
Rowan’s considerable skill was of no consequence.
Forget the danger the mercenaries posed, he and the demon couldn’t let Rowan go any further.
They had to prevent him from going near the Sleeping Isles and the Storm Ring, for his own good.
His tentacles writhed around him, darkening the room. Rowan seemed unphased, scars standing out livid and red against his face.
“You can’t follow her into the Storm Ring. It’s madness. You won’t survive.”
Rowan’s laugh was shallow and cutting. “If my survival means so much to you, maybe you should help me instead of being a dick.”
“I won’t let you go.” Yves’s voice deepened with the demon’s echoes, the ancient evil that lived inside him and wanted nothing more than to devour this man. To protect him from everything but itself.
The demon loved Rowan in a possessive, hungry way.
The same way it had once hungered for the ships passing through its waters and dragged them down to depths unknown.
Somewhere at the bottom of the sea there was a cave so dark only the pinprick lights of the demon’s tentacles had ever illuminated it.
And no being of land or sea dared venture there.
Its rocks were littered with the rotting corpses of ships, treasure spilling from their rended bowels.
The bones of humans and all manner of creatures, unbleached by sunlight, wore away in the deep currents.
The demon had dreamed, rather wistfully, of taking Rowan’s body there when he inevitably succumbed to death. It wanted to curl around him like a tomb, and watch his beloved face decay. It would embrace his bones for eternity. A treasure to surpass all treasures that had come before.
It was love. The only love Yves had to give.
He stepped into Rowan’s space again, ready to kiss or throttle him. He hadn’t yet decided which.
“You. Cannot. Go. There.” The demon’s shadowy waters pressed close to the inside of his skin, flooded the space between his ribs. Something akin to panic edged its anger; Yves didn’t want to know what could make such an ancient being afraid.
Rowan crossed his arms, unflinching at the evil that lurked inside his husband, unafraid of the danger that awaited him in the Sleeping Isles. That hard jade eye flayed Yves open, as if it could see straight to his drowned soul.
Rowan had told him once that he was terrifying. That had been before Rowan donned the jade eye and saw Yves’s true nature. Yet he still kissed him, still let Yves take him to bed. Now he stood steadfast against him.
“Give me a good reason,” Rowan said.
It was like the demon took over, brine on his tongue and the deep voice of that ancient creature pushing all the way to the surface.
“The Storm Ring will cut you down like the frail creature you are.” He could see Rowan’s temper flare, and swallowed down what he really wanted to say: Do not make me drag your body back out of the depths when the storms shatter you. Do not leave me alone.
Yves seized Rowan by the back of the neck, dragging him forward so their faces were a mere breath away. Rowan shoved futilely against his chest, but he didn’t budge. Rowan couldn’t outmatch Yves for strength.
“This time, I will keep you,” the demon growled.
Briny water practically dripped from his lips.
What would Rowan do if Yves kissed him right now, with not a stitch of humanity left on the surface?
What would he do if Yves chained him to the bed and ravaged him till he couldn’t even think of escape?
Would his love finally fall away like his terror?
Would Yves keep him in body, but lose his heart?
He fought the demon for control, trying to force himself back to the surface and give Rowan at least some of the gentleness he deserved. But the demon retained its steadfast control of his body, the tentacles lashing out to grip Rowan’s ankle, his waist.
“Let. Me. Go.” Rowan grit his teeth through every word.
“Not until you listen.” Yves thought himself above begging, but his soul felt like it was drowning in his and the demon’s shared desperation.
“I’m done listening to you.” Faster than Yves could conjure his next words, Rowan drew the jeweled dagger from Yves’s belt and stabbed it up through Yves’s arm.
The tip emerged from the top of Yves’s bicep, slick and glittering as a newly cut ruby.
The demon crashed back down into the deep recesses of Yves’s body with a howl, tentacles recoiling.
Yves’s hand went slack. Rowan slipped out of his grip.
Contrary to rumor, Yves could still feel pain.
It raced across his nerves now, hot and icy at once.
It no longer carried the same potency as when he was young and mortal, for nothing could come of it now.
He would die, or not, and he’d come back before the day was out.
It made him reckless with himself and others.
He cared little for their pain, and even less for his own.
They could not be reckless with this one precious mortal they’d bound themselves to.
This, this was a wound from his beloved’s hand. And though pain lanced through him and blood dripped onto the table’s surface like scattered garnets, it was nothing compared to his heart stuttering as Rowan slipped from his arms and made it to the door in a few quick strides.
“Rowan.” Yves sagged against the edge of the table, wrenching the dagger out and letting it clatter to the floor.
Blood flowed freely down his arm, staining the expensive lace of his sleeve.
Rowan paused at the doorway. The briefest flash of concern furrowing his brow before his resolve hardened again. He turned, and fled.
Now that hurt.