Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Calum bid a gentle farewell to Theo, and Theo promised to call him later.
It was clear he was hoping to speak to his brother in private.
Wyn looked furious, all of the previous gaiety and mischieviousness in his eyes drowned out by an intense anger.
He couldn't look at Theo. His deadly glare locked on Lyra and every move she made.
He was staring at her so intently, it made her fidget.
There was something in Wyn’s frustration that Lyra recognized wasn’t about her. He wanted her off the boat—there was no doubt about that—and he didn't trust her. Although she supposed no one on the boat really did. Not that she could blame them.
She was just as surprised as Wyn and Theo that Calum hadn't immediately ordered her off the ship. She knew if she hadn't already made a blood pact with Calum that would likely result in her death, she would have been thrown to the sea before Calum could hang up the phone.
It was still easier to look at the barely contained rage on Wyn's face than it was to risk looking at Theo.
“I’ll just—” Lyra pointed towards the door.
Wyn interrupted her with a short nod. “That's a good idea.”
He looked mere seconds away from abandoning Calum's instruction and getting rid of Lyra himself.
There had to be something else churning in his mind, but Lyra was not the person who was going to get to the bottom of it.
She stood up and left the room with as much grace as she could muster, which wasn't much.
Part of her wanted to jump into the sea anyway and rid herself of the entire situation.
The thought of her sister in Cliodhna’s clutches kept her on the boat.
And Theo.
Lyra didn't want to think about which impulse was stronger at the moment. She fled towards the room she’d picked as her cabin and heard the door lock shut behind her.
“Ahh,” she murmured quietly, looking around the room. “Magic.” She grunted to herself. She could feel it in the air, as much as the call of the water threatened to drown out all of her other senses.
“I’m not sure if I'd rather be locked in.” Lyra turned towards the small porthole, looking at the waves churning alongside the boat. “Perhaps throwing me overboard was the best option for everyone.” She didn't feel any better voicing those opinions out loud.
Lyra sat on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chin. She wrapped her arms around her legs, the limbs still feeling foreign to her. She'd never be as comfortable on her feet than she was with fins, but that was something she'd accepted long ago.
What had she been reduced to? The situation she found herself in seemed ludricrous. A few days ago, she would've laughed at herself if she had known this would be where she'd end up. She was a siren. Lyra was designed to trap men, princes, and paupers alike.
Now, she had sold out her own flesh and blood for a man. She couldn’t deny it any longer.
Lyra was doing all of this for Theo.
And you wanted to blame your sister for chasing after men. Lyra wanted to bang her head against the wall for the irony. That's what got her into this mess. And it's what has prevented you from fixing it.
On some level, Lyra knew that wasn't entirely true, but she was feeling much too rotten to feel anything else.
The minutes turned to hours as she stared out of the tiny window, closing her eyes and feeling the boat sway side to side.
It was a bizarre kind of torture, being locked in her room, so close to the water but unable to access it.
She'd been threatened with being thrown overboard earlier—obviously drowning wasn't a threat—but she would have to answer to Cliodhna alone if they'd followed through.
Now, all she wanted was to escape the overly pitying looks Theo had been giving her and the disdain written all over Wyn's face.
A gentle knock at Lyra's door jolted her from her mental tirade, snapping her back to reality. She froze, part of her wondering if it was Wyn coming to disobey Calum and toss her off his boat. She wouldn't blame him in the slightest.
As if he could read her thoughts, Theo's muffled voice echoed in the hallway.
“Lyra? It's me.”
Lyra wished it was Wyn. She took a deep breath, steadied herself as best as she could, and slowly dragged her feet to the door. When Lyra tried to open it, she realized it was still locked. She could only jiggle the handle aimlessly.
“Umm,” her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Theo knew everything, but somehow being presented with the locked door made Lyra even more self conscious then she already was. Feeling like a shell of her former self, Lyra choked out a self-deprecating laugh.
“I don't suppose you want to slide a note under the door, huh?”
“Oh, let me try…” Theo swung the door open without hesitation. Lyra’s heart jumped at the sight of him. He stood in front of her, having to duck under the door frame.
“Can I come in?” he asked quietly, his eyes wide and almost optimistic. Theo looked like a deer, and Lyra thought she was going to be sick.
“I’m not sure I can leave,” Lyra forced a bit of humor and edge in her voice, but it only sounded sad. “So, of course.”
She tried to give him a casual smirk, but she only managed to look pained. Theo shut the door, and the sound of it locking again echoed ominously throughout the bedroom.
Lyra motioned for Theo to sit down on the edge of the bed as she went to go stand in the corner, wrapping her arms around herself.
Theo didn't sit, his brow furrowed at her submissive posture.
“I’m not mad at you,” he insisted, firm but quiet.
Lyra snapped her head up so quickly, she almost gave herself whiplash.
“You should be!” The stirrings of frustration and anger started to ebb alongside her self-hatred.
“Theo,” she spoke slowly, as though she was spelling this out for him for the first time, “I was going to hand you over to Cliodhna. I made a deal to kill you.”
The last two words hung in the air. He only shrugged.
Lyra shrieked in frustration, “You have zero self preservation skills, Theo. This is insane. I don't understand how Wyn is angrier than you are!”
Theo looked puzzled, as if this was a great mystery he couldn't figure out, either.
“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his head. “He was rather angry about it, wasn't he?”
“You should be too!” Lyra snapped, looking around the room as if there was something in the bedroom that might provide clarity or insight into Theo's confusing acceptance of the entire situation.
“I don't understand how you don't hate me right now,” Lyra admitted, a little softer.
Theo didn't say anything for a minute, and Lyra thought he was about to admit that he did hate her on some level. It would be easier if he did.
“If Cliodhna didn't have your sister, would you have made a deal with her?” Theo pressed.
Lyra shook her head, refusing to answer his question. “That's not important. There are too many 'what if's' in this world. What matters is what I did. And I did make a deal with her. For you.”
Theo moved closer to her, his tall frame taking up almost the entire room, drowning out Lyra's senses with nothing else but Theo.
The tension in the tiny space thickened, and there was nowhere else for her to look but at him.
His cheeks were flushed, and he'd started to look upset.
Lyra would've been relieved, but she didn't think he was upset about the right things.
“But did,” Theo mocked her emphasis, “you do it for your sister?”
Lyra tried to look at her feet, but Theo caught her chin. He gently held it between two fingers, tilting it up to meet his eyes. His voice was even, but his eyes were ablaze, a churning, bright blue color that reminded Lyra of the sea. And now, he looked like the sea during a storm.
Let it be known that no matter how even-keeled Theo was on the surface, like the ocean itself, he had more depth than people could even begin to fathom. And Theo was furious.
“Yes,” Lyra admitted on an exhale, her entire body vibrating with Theo's intensity.
Without warning, Theo shifted his grip, cupping her cheek and kissing her.
Lyra didn't think; she acted instinctively.
She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his, relishing in the safe heat of him.
The kiss was anything but gentle. It was punishing, extracting, all teeth and tongue as Theo bit at Lyra's lip until she let him in.
His thumb was rubbing soothing motions on her cheek, in contradiction to the near violence of his kiss, while his other hand gripped her waist. He held her so tightly, Lyra knew the skin would bruise, but she wouldn't have it any other way.
Time blurred, and everything faded away, until all Lyra was left with was the feel of Theo, invading her senses and proving all of her defenses irrelevant. Finally, he pulled back with a gasp, heat in his eyes as his thumb gently rolled over her swollen lips.
“This is all wrong.” Lyra shook her head, horrified to find tears starting to roll down her cheeks. She didn't know the last time she cried in front of someone. She wasn't sure she'd ever cried in front of a man. It wasn't what sirens did.
“Is it?” Theo smirked, apparently more pleased with himself than Lyra was.
“Theo, I—”
“Yes,” Theo cut her off with a playful roll of his eyes. “You were going to give me to Cliodhna. I know.”
“I don't understand how that doesn't bother you. You should hate me.”
“You didn't do it because you wanted to.” Theo shrugged, searching her face as if he could find the source of her resistance. “You were backed into a corner, Lyra. You're a victim in this too.”
Lyra froze, her body tensing as she tried to back out of Theo's arms.
“No, I'm absolutely not. If that's what you think, you should leave.”
Her words were harsh, turning to ice as quickly as water in winter. Theo stared at her with an absurd amount of patience. She didn't know where it came from or what possessed Theo, but Lyra had never met a man who was so stubborn.
“Lyra,” Theo demanded softly. “It’s okay.
Cliodhna has you captive just like she does your sister.
You can see that, right? From where I'm standing, she backed you into a corner.
And even then, with your life and your sister's on the line, you told the truth.” The way Theo explained it put it so clearly.
It made sense. It gave Lyra an out. It still didn't sit right with her.
“I was going to kill you, Theo,” she said it again, as if repeating it would make it stick in his head. “You shouldn't want anything to do with me. Your brother would be furious.”
Theo let out a sad laugh. “My brother really has never had much overview into my life. As much as I'm happy we've reunited, I don't exactly plan on giving him the reins to all my decisions.”
Lyra crossed her arms, opening her mouth with a rebuttal when Theo sighed exaggeratedly. He covered her mouth with his hand, watching in amusement as Lyra's eyes widened in shock. She was stunned silent for a second, which was enough for Theo to make his point.
“I think you hate yourself enough for the both of us, don't you?”
The words hit Lyra like lightning. She could feel her defenses weakening, a horrid realization of her own self-flagellation like ice in her veins.
She was frozen for a horrid, long minute, before she nearly fell to her knees.
Theo scooped her up and carried her towards the bed, sitting down on the edge and adjusting her in his lap as Lyra started to cry.
“No, stop it,” she protested weakly, trying to detangle herself from Theo's touch. Her movements were half-hearted, and she gave up quickly.
“It's okay, Lyra,” Theo insisted.
He started working his fingers through her long hair, humming to himself under his breath. Lyra didn't know it was possible for her heart to break even further, but there it went. The walls that had taken her years to put up had finally come tumbling down, and Theo was to blame for it.
“None of this is o-okay,” Lyra sniffled, starting to cry harder.
She cried for her sister; she cried for Theo, and even though she didn't want to admit it, she was crying for herself.
It was an impossible position she'd been put in since the very beginning, and she'd refused to ever see herself as weak.
That meant painting herself as the villain, which wasn't untrue, but it was perhaps only one small part of the picture.
Theo's acceptance of her felt radical in a way that only love could, and it cut her to the very quick.
The only thing scarier than Cliodhna to Lyra, in that moment, was how far gone she was for Theo.
There was no turning back now, so she cried even harder, knowing there wasn't a future for them.
No matter how this played out, even if they all got their happy endings, Lyra knew she'd never be welcome in Calum's family.
“Everything is going to work out.” Theo was still whispering sweet nothings, words of encouragement that didn't feel empty. That might be what frightened Lyra the most about Theo.
She'd been with plenty of lovers over the years.
Even as standoffish as she was, she was no stranger to love and sex, even intimacy.
Most men and women went through the motions.
They knew the right things to say, where to touch, how to look at you in just the right way.
Lyra had become an expert at sussing out the practiced motions from the authentic ones, and the latter were few and far between.
Not when it came to Theo. His heart was on his sleeve, in a way she'd never seen with anyone, and he meant everything he did.
Including now, holding her in his lap and playing with her hair. Lyra snorted her way through a sob, a very ugly sound that would horrify her whenever she looked back on this moment, as she tried to remember the last time someone had played with her hair.
Sirens weren't pack creatures. They didn't have too many familial bonds.
Lyra's connection to her sister was uncommon for their kind.
They didn't thrive on touch as much as fae or pack life and community like wulvers did.
But Lyra had always, always, melted whenever someone played with her hair.
It was a little bit cliche—humans had a lot of stories about mermaids and their hair—but damn it, it was soothing.
Lyra tried to surrender to the moment as best she could, letting herself cry and lean into Theo's touch.
The boat rocked side to side, and Theo didn't move until long after Lyra had fallen asleep in his arms.