“He can’t be mad that the island attacked us,” I say. “He’s always pissed at me, anyway. I’m not afraid of him. I’ve dealt with worse.”
“I warned you,” Sig says, her shoulders pulling back in anticipation of facing whatever mood Weston is in.
As we climb the gangway, I try to keep my eyes off of Weston.
I fail.
His rhythmic movements haven’t stopped or slowed, and the closer we get, the more clear his body becomes. Sweat covers every exposed inch of his skin, the light from the torches making him glisten. Soft grunts and heavy breaths with every pull break the silence, and I ignore the flicker of flame that ignites in me at the sound.
He must hear our footsteps, because in the next moment he’s dropping to the deck, the boom of his landing followed by a snort and loud yawn. Just next to where Weston hung a moment ago, Jorn sits on the mast, rubbing his face with both hands. They must have kept each other company, like Sig suggested when we left.
“Signee,” Weston growls, and my gaze falls back to him. He barrels toward us, his eyes flying over our group, taking in the mess from our shift.
“Everyone is fine,” Sig says, her hands raised slightly like she is trying to calm a wild animal.
I see now why she warned us. Weston has worn many emotions since I met him, but this is anger like I haven’t seen, not even when he was yelling at me in the infirmary. Outrage burns in his eyes, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he glowers at her.
“You said you had this under control,” he grinds out, brushing past her and weaving through the group.
Straight to me.
She spins to follow him. “I did. We’re all back in one piece. Just a little dirty.”
His eyes meet mine, the fire in them still blazing and I am caught up in the intensity. I can’t look away, can’t think, can’t even process what is happening as his hands are in my hair, working through the thick, dry mud until his fingertips reach my scalp. They roam over me, sliding down the back of my neck and over the curve of my shoulders. A shiver runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the cool breeze coming off the water.
My throat bobs with a hard swallow as my focus falls away from his stare down to the glistening bare skin in front of me, so close I could barely move and reach out to touch it. A bead of sweat trickles between the muscles of his chest, heading toward the defined bulges of his abdomen, toward the scar Dane gave him. I’m too stunned to do anything but gape at him, everything happening so quickly but also feeling like it is in slow motion.
When his fingertips brush my palms, turning my hands over to inspect them, it’s like I’m doused with cold water. The movement feels more intimate than any of the others, and I suddenly remember who he is and what he’s doing.
I take a step back and slap his hands away.
“Excuse me? Get your hands off me,” I snap.
Who does he think he is, just walking over and putting his hands on me, treating me like an asset he has to inspect to make sure it still holds its value? It’s obvious, now more than ever, why he is so overbearing with me. He knows Dane won’t agree to a bargain if I’m harmed. That’s why he didn’t want me leaving the ship. That’s why he wanted me to eat.
I’m just a means to an end.
He steps back like I’ve burned him, lifting his hands away and pinning his arms to his sides. The fury is gone in an instant, but he looks away, keeping me from seeing what replaces it.
“I apologize, princess,” he mumbles and runs a hand through his sweaty hair, mussing it even more than it already was, before turning on his heel toward the rest of the group. “Is everyone alright?”
“Yep,” Stassia says, a smile on her face and her voice as cheerful as ever. She’s probably still enjoying the view that she wanted so badly.
“Yes Captain, we’re alright,” Auralie says.
His head turns back toward me, but his eyes stay averted, falling to the ground next to me.
“I’m fine,” I say flatly, and his chin dips in acknowledgement.
“Like I said,” Sig says, “all under control.”
“What happened?” he says, his voice calmer, but still hard.
“We ran into Dane,” Sig says.
“What?” Weston barks, the calm gone in an instant as his head snaps toward Sig.
“He and Storm were out walking. We hid in the marsh. Once they were gone, we started to sink. Stass and Auralie pulled us out.” Sig glances around at us with a hint of apology in her expression. We all agreed not to say what happened tonight in order to protect her, but that was before Weston caught us the moment we stepped onto the ship. There was no way of keeping what happened tonight from him now.
