Page 61 of The Temptation of Roan Island

I’m even more terrified that the morning hasn’t chased away the feelings. If anything, it’s strengthened them.

Last night, I could explain my desire, blame it on the new moon. Today, I can’t justify the longing to have her in my arms, the craving to taste more than just her blood. Would it be that bad to indulge this attraction between us? It still wouldn’t be love. I can’t offer that. But maybe we could be something more than just friends. Testing the waters, I rub soothing circles over her back. She flinches away.

No matter how much she wanted my touch when the venom was in her system, she doesn’t now. She seems more embarrassed about last night than eager for it to happen again. She won’t even look me in the eye.

A man walks the deck toward us, his wool coat buttoned up to his neck and a cap pulled low over his ears. “Not one for the sail, I take it,” he says with a gravelly voice and a smirk.

I frown at him. “How much longer?”

“We’re about halfway.” He looks at the sky. “But the storm’ll open up soon. Suggest you take her in. I’ll find a bucket.” Then he’s gone, and the first, fat raindrop hits my skin.

“Pippa.” I brave touching her, and it sets something at ease inside me. Finally.

She releases a sound filled with misery, and I can’t hold back, drawing her against me without giving her a chance to pull away.

Unexpectedly, she curls into my embrace with another little moan.

I try to recall the first time we made this passage together, the night Jafeth and I brought her and the other women from The Sanatorium. I don’t recall the voyage, my mind overly occupied with plotting a way to stop my father, running through options that all seemed like they would fail. There was a wasteland inside me then, a distinct apathy born by hopelessness. How different I feel now, as if awake after sleepwalking.

I barely noticed Pippa then. Now, she’s all I notice. I pick her up in my arms as the rain begins in earnest. Rather than fighting me like I expect, she nuzzles my chest with her face and sighs. By the time I’m through the doorway into a small holding area, she’s asleep. Though I could lay her down in the seat next to me, I don’t. I keep her close against my hearts for the rest of the voyage.

When the harbor finally comes into view, the rain still falls, but the storm has settled into itself, as if it’s spent its anger and now just weeps. The gray clouds mix with the gray smog of the city and the strange combination of materials used to construct it. It’s old-world wood, mined iron, and rough-hewn, gray rock fashioned into bricks. Smokestacks vent dark smoke into the sky, coating everything with soot and grime. Across the harbor, small fishing vessels float beside medium steam boats, like the one we’re on, meant for taking people and supplies to various settlements around the lake. There are also large freighters that will travel to the massive river that feeds Lake Nettor and out to the sea that connects the rest of Prisma.

My skin itches being here. Too much noise, too many scents, so much blood. I’ve always preferred the island, even when it was a house of horrors.

“Pippa,” I whisper, adjusting my hold on her. “We’re here.”

She shoots up, ramrod straight, and looks around with wide, disoriented eyes. Her movement on my lap nearly makes me groan, but I suppress it. The sensations whipping through me are a raging storm. I want to hate how my body responds to her, but I don’t. I want more.

“We’re in New Essik,” I offer.

She looks down, as if noticing for the first time that she’s in my lap.

I clear my throat. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Right, of course.” She stands, putting a generous distance between us. My hearts feel as if they’re being pulled apart.

Getting to my feet, I check my pocket watch. I’m not sure if Gray is back from Briarton yet—a shorter trip than the one Mrs. Darning took to Caldon—but I’m hopeful that he’s returned and received the message I sent yesterday.

Pippa sways as the boat rocks, and I take hold of her elbow. “Are you alright?”

“I will be once we get off this boat.” She gives me a strained smile.

“Then by all means, let’s get you to land.” I wrap her arm around mine, telling myself she needs the support.

“And to my son,” she whispers.

With a pang in my hearts, I say a prayer to the goddess that we’ll find him. Pippa isn’t the only one concerned about how long it’s taken to track down the boy. I’m afraid what we find at the end of this journey might not be what Pippa wants.

To my relief, Gray is waiting for us at the end of the pier with transportation. A turbine carriage sits behind him. The carriage itself is a curved enclosure with heavily lacquered doors marked with the letter “R” in plated gold, a remnant of my father. Four large wheels help the vehicle traverse the terrain, propelled by the turbine wheel situated at the carriage rear, which rotates so quickly it’s difficult to see.

“Mr. Roan.” Gray performs a shallow nod as the porter carting our bags loads them under the carriage.

“Gray, I’d like you to meet Miss Willoughby,” I say. “Pippa, this is Gray Broadchurch.”

“Did you find my boy?” Pippa asks. “Is he here?” She looks beyond Gray, peering into the carriage windows.

Gray’s expression softens. He’s got a little girl a bit older than Tobias. I’ve never met her, but he talks about her regularly when he visits the island or on the rare occasions I come into New Essik.