Page 156 of Tempest

“I can’t go back to Rosby,” she breathed.

Her feet moved, the spare inches closing, until every breath tasted of Valerian Kane. She glared up at him, desperate and trembling, glad they were alone at the helm, with no witnesses to her fading dignity.

“I can give you anything you like, everything I have left—but I can’t go back. Not with him,” she said, stumbling over the words.

When Valerian moved like a thundercloud above her, Cat could not help but shrink back. He matched her step for step, marching her from the wheel to stern, until the taffrail pressed against her back. And the captain of the Covenant leaned over her, so close a few strands of his long hair brushed her temple.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said, eyes alight, a flush blooming across his cheeks.

“I do!” Cat shot up at him, feeling her own face flame. “You have other women on your ship, and I can work, I can read, I can clean, I can learn. You said it yourself—”

His hand closed on her shoulder, his grip firm but not bruising, meant to hold her in place. As if Cat might bolt. But her feet were anchored, her body glued to the Covenant, her eyes never leaving Valerian’s face.

To her surprise, she saw the same desperation welling up in his eyes, the same conflict. The same need.

“This is a pirate ship, Lady Rose.” His hand curved, sliding from her clothed shoulder to the bare skin of her neck. Cat could not help but arc into his palm, pressing as much of herself into his hand as she could, seeking more and more.

He did not relent, the edge of his jaw tightening.

“You have seen a piece of us, but you have not seen the whole. Not even close.”

Without thought, Cat’s hand shot out, fingers winding through the chain around his neck. She could break it easily, the gold links thin and weak. Reclaim the prayer bead and what part of herself Valerian Kane seemed to hold.

Cat wanted nothing but to give more.

“I saw the Venerable wrecked and sunk. I swam through the water with the bodies. I saw what you can do, what you are.” She pulled the necklace enough to make him move, closer and closer still. “What this world is.”

He smelled of sweat, salt, smoke. She ventured his skin tasted the same.

“You don’t know the half of it, Lady Rose,” Valerian growled, the air trembling between them.

Cat reveled in it, refusing to let go. Her pulse jumped in her throat, hammering against the callused curve of Valerian’s palm.

“I am willing to see, Captain Kane.”

Another moment stretched, torturous in length, infuriating and silent. The prayer bead dangled, the only thing between them besides the thin cotton of her gown. Out of the corner of Cat’s eye, the dying sunset filled the sea, turning the waves red as blood.

“It would be a kindness to turn you aside, to save you from what you refuse to understand,” Valerian said, shifting a little, so that his broad shoulders obscured her from anyone who might climb up the quarterdeck. He hissed a breath, sighing.

Relenting.

“I am not kind.”

She expected his kiss to burn, to set her on fire, to consume both of them in circling flames.

I should have known he was a storm instead of an inferno.

The hurricane of Valerian swept her up, fiercer than a gale wind, stronger than a crashing wave. Everything spun, as if the Covenant itself was caught up in the maelstrom. But they could be sinking to the bottom of the sea for all Cat cared. There was nothing beyond Valerian. His hands, his teeth, his fingers beneath her jaw, angling her face just so. She gasped, but his mouth was there to swallow it, lips parted, his breath her own.

Cat only knew what it was to kiss Ryman. After a split second, she promised herself she never would know it again.

Her spine curved, arcing backwards against the stern. It was not the necklace she held now but the folds of Valerian’s shirt, pulling him into her even as he did the same, roughly pressing her to him.

His lips moved against hers and the moments stretched, until she wondered if they might braid together entirely, two bodies melting into one.

Then he tightened, his muscles going rigid, his hands dropping to the taffrail, framing her body with his. And his face turned, lips pulling away, leaving Cat still spinning in the storm’s wake.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he murmured again, his tempest eyes on the waves and the last inches of sunlight.