The utter darkness of the sea at night should be terrifying. It was a chasm. Abyssal. No stars were reflected on the surface. The clouds were too thick, too consuming, to allow one speck of brightness to penetrate.
Graves loved it.
They were halfway into their journey to the Fallen Isles. The first few days had passed swiftly, like the thick storm clouds and rain that had beat down upon them as Luella slept. When she had awoken, time seemed to drag to a halt, ticking by at such a slow pace that he could barely stand to breathe, knowing that every inhale of air that filled his lungs brought them closer to…
That godsdamned place.
Time dragged not only because of where they were headed, but also because of Luella—ripe berries, sweet cream, and perfectly blooming roses permeated every bit of space on this damned ship.
But they had been right. Pleasure made her storm calm.Calmer, at least.
The clouds still shifted from white to rain-filled black. The wind roared, raging on, before easing to a whisper.
Her power was greater than anything any of them had ever seen thus far. He doubted a few kisses and touches could fix what she had wrought. And as the days passed, and Graves saw Luella stumble from below deck—her eyes trained at her feet, flinching with every pounding wave, forcing the wind to beat harder and whip her thick scent straight toward him—he wondered if she missed causing chaos. If she yearned for the fear she had forced into them all.
Though, she rarely emerged, trapped in her cage of wood, swaying hammocks, and lonesome nights.
But not so lonesome, Graves thought, tapping a finger over the wooden railing as he stared out at the sea. Her nightly company sent ripples of pleasure down their bond, forcing them all even further to the edge on which they teetered.
Graves was so fucking sick of it all. He wanted to shrug off his barely held control and let himself fall.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, leaning over the wooden railing at the bow of the ship, wind ripping through his shirt. He tipped back, fingers tightening on the rails, anchored only by his grip.
Graves closed his eyes andfelt.
Air roared around him, and as the ship sailed onward, the sails rippling above him in loud swaying movements, he could almost pretend that he was not on the ground, that he was not at sea, and that maybe—just maybe—he was somewhere else. That place he had not been since he was young and foolishly wild.
He smelled her before he saw her. Felt her before she spoke.
"I’m surprised you’re this close to the edge. I didn’t think you wanted to dance with water ever again."
"I felt you," Luella said. "I was drawn up here because you felt so… lonely. Yet free. I wanted to see what could incite such emotion."
Graves opened his eyes and turned, leaning back against the railing. The wood dug into his spine, and he crossed his arms, relishing in the weightless recklessness of relying solely on the railing to keep him from toppling down into the dark, depthless waters.
Luella stood in soft tan breeches and a too-large blouse cut for her folded wings—Bastian had worked tirelessly through the clothes for her to find something small enough to fit. Her feathers rippled in the wind, white hair fluttering.
She hugged herself, looking small and breakable, swaying slightly with every gust.
Her scent was ripe, but not as thick and heady as it had been the few times he knew her demon had touched her. Graves let out a heavy sigh. Good. He did not think he could handle her sweet, enticing scent in his current state. With every bob of the ship across the waves, they grew nearer to their destination, and he felt himself change.
The pieces of jagged rock he had built to protect himself cracked. His heart’s guard shifted from centuries-forged steel to crumbled stone. Like the castle they had left behind, he felt himself fall apart.
Eyeing her wings, jealousy raged inside him.
Gods, he would have to keep her safe. They had all talked about their plan when they reached the Isles, but Graves was at a loss. He knew he would be forced to do something he did not wish to, but if it meant keeping her safe, well…
Graves would endure it. He would endure much for her.
"Graves?" she hesitantly asked, breaking him from his staring. He could stare at her for hours. Fuck, hehadbefore—many times.
"Luella," he countered lowly.
Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, and she hugged herself tighter against a harsh gust of wind. Was that her wind?
"I’m sorry. I’ll go." Luella turned to leave, eyes downcast.
Graves stopped her with a hand reaching toward her. "Wait," he rasped, and she stilled. "Don’t go. Stay."
