Page 95 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

When Sirona had decided to hug Kora in return, Raiden had nearly landed on his arse, the Huntress looking so shocked she’d tensed up, her hands awkwardly flapping behind Sirona’s back.

Raiden’s heart was so hopeful, so warm, that fear quickly circled, waiting to attack. An ever-present knife in his back, threatening to stab him if he ventured too close to his dreams.

“That . . . is so . . . badass,” Cassidy slurred, her stein sloshing. The group had run a tab as long as his arms, and he’d make sure Aerion would foot the bill in the morning. Not that Raiden needed the money. He paid his staff handsomely, he kept some for himself for the day his father well and truly decided to cut him out, and the rest he invested locally in artists and museums.

“If we’re swapping skincare routines, there’s a spa in town we should go to,” Aerion hummed.

“I’d rather die,” Skylar muttered.

“I don’t recommend,” Kora whispered, but Raiden had leant far enough forward to hear it. He’d been slowly inching closer to her, like a moth drawn to a flame. A singularity in his universe, his future, past, and present would always flow through Kora.

“Come, sit with me,” he offered, patting the small space beside him as Cassidy and Skylar spoke with the loved-up males. It calmed Raiden, seeing his brother at ease with Aryn, their dynamic finally settled. The archer even placed a kiss along Aerion’s stubbled jaw, and Raiden hid his own smile.

Not even a second passed as Kora rounded the table, nestling next to him with such confidence his air evaporated, wholly consumed by her presence alone. Her lashes were long, beckoning him to fall hard, her nibbled lip demanding he run his thumb across it.

“Are you and Sirona a thing?” she asked, followed by a hiccup.

Raiden smiled fondly. “No. We once . . . there was a time where we thought the Mist would never end. That the cold darkness was our eternity. It was a night of desperation, to feel something. To be touched by warmth. We’d been good friends, and I hope we will be again.”

Kora’s eyes flashed, then lowered. His heart thudded unpleasantly as she remained in silence. “I understand that.” Her fingers splayed on the teal booth beside his, her fingertip gracing him the tiniest ember of her warmth. “Do you own this bar?”

“Yes.”

“It reminds me of the ocean,” Kora mumbled, glancing around with delight. Her voice was all over the place, her cheeks flushed with grog, her eyes wide and glassy.

“It reminds me of you.”

She exhaled, her scent wrapping around him fiercely, the bond snapping wide open. An array of emotions hit him, a mix of hope, of joy, but also worry. A tangled mess that swirled together from the grog, confusing him.

“Please,” Kora breathed. “Tell me of something from my past. Anything. I want the connection.”

Her desperation pushed through the mess of emotions, clogging Raiden’s throat until he cleared it. “Barron’s magic could use it against you.”

“Please. I need something.”

Gods damn, he loved her begging.

“Your father is Davy Jones—” he started.

“I know that,” Kora interrupted, her bottom lip pouting as she finished her drink. “And don’t you mean was? Everyone says he’s dead.” He didn’t miss the flash of sorrow in the bond, entwined with curiosity.

“Hush, Huntress. As I was saying, your father was Davy Jones. He was the keeper of the Locker, a legend amongst pirates. A formidable sailor, a terrifying opponent. All feared when he neared, especially when marked with the black spot. It was told, once marked, Davy would hunt you down and drag you to the depths.”

“A hunter? Like me?” Kora’s full hand brushed his on the booth as she shuffled closer.

Raiden nodded. “Davy was a lone hunter. No one knew how these black spots came about, whether he truly possessed any power from the gods. The only telltale sign were the tattoos on his body, covered from neck to foot. Strange, sharp markings, all except on his heart.”

Kora was so close now, he could count every individual precious freckle.

“His heart had supposedly been given to the ocean, meaning no ink may ever mark his flesh there. Until one day he stepped foot on Galen, gracing the king with his presence. A woman stood by his side, his mirror image, eyes of pure ice. He tore his shirt open, baring his truth to the court, and marked on his heart was not the space for the ocean, but the name of his daughter. The true heart of his ocean.” Raiden swallowed, his fingers brushing over the back of her hand, his other hand trailing up one of her arms gently.

Kora’s skin visibly prickled under his touch, a palpable shiver running through her. She blinked rapidly, her teeth gnawing the inside of her cheek as the story settled in.

“When was this?”

“Five years before the Mist. You both appeared offering your aid in the middle of the Galenite War. My father didn’t believe it was Davy until he stripped down, his tattoos the legend that carried truth.” Her warmth intoxicated him, the desire to pull her into his arms and fly away was driving him fucking crazy. Especially with Aerion’s giggles cutting through the conversation.

“How do you know Aryn?” The archer glanced their way, his heavy eyes flaring slightly. Raiden waved him down, letting Aerion drag Aryn back into his arms.