Page 29 of The Girl Beneath the Sea

I don’t want him to. If he speaks it will become something with words in it and I don’t want that yet. I want this. His skin under my cheek and his hand in my hair and the smell of coffee and sweat and sex, and the two of us in a locked box on a river where nobody is watching.

The heat is still in me. I can feel it, banked and waiting. It will come up again and again, and he will be here.

I put my mouth on his chest, on the long pale scar, and hold it there.

His hand stops in my hair. Then it starts again.

8. Roan

I am so far off course that I might as well be floating in space.

To be fair, I do feel like I am floating. My limbs are loose and heavy, relaxed in a way that I don’t think I have ever been. Not even as a child.

It’s been hard to keep track of the days but I had to. Even through everything, I’ve been aware that others might arrive here at any moment.

And the worst moment for that would be when I am balls deep in the most gorgeous omega I have ever seen. That would be a moment that would go badly for the both of us.

Fortunately, it has been quiet. Not even Sully has checked in. I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a bad one.

My pretty prince is asleep on my chest. One fist is closed in the hair there like he thinks I might get up and go somewhere. I am not going anywhere. I couldn’t if I wanted to.

His heat is finally fading. I can smell it sitting under his skin, waiting. The sweet scent of strawberries left out in the sun and rich vanilla is still there, but now it is softer, almost creamier.

I understand now why alphas bite when they claim. He smells so good that taking a bite out of him feels almost inevitable.

I should be working out what the fuck I am going to do next. I should be working out whether there is any version of this where I walk out of it alive.

Instead I am lying on a mattress on the floor with a prince asleep on me.

His skin is so smooth, completely unbroken. It is nothing like mine. Not a mark. No scars, no burns, no old breaks.

He is the same all over, completely untouched.

Or he was. There is a purple mark on his hip now, the shape of my thumb. I should feel guilty. I do not.

That mark was him, not me. He pressed his hands over mine so deep that it bruised, pushing me into him.

There is something particularly vulnerable about a heat. And I don’t just mean from the omega’s side. A few days ago, he was gorgeous, hot, and a problem.

Now, I think I’m in love.

No. I know it.

He is beautiful and he shouldn’t be in a cage. I need to get him back to his people. I also don’t want him to leave me. There is no way that his country would let him bond with someone like me. No way.

Still, he’ll be safer with them. I have no idea who hired me or what their motives are. He’s not safe here.

I put my hand on the back of his head. His hair is soft and fine and he pushes into my palm in his sleep.

That’s not him trying to get close to me so he can escape. He’s sleeping. It’s instinctive. That’s how I know this is real.

I don’t want to send him back. He’s here. I’m here. I’ve never had anyone who wants me.

You can’t pretend when you’re sleeping. I know that. That’s when nightmares come when life is particularly bad. Or no sleep comes at all.

You don’t sleep this soundly and press against another person like this without wanting to do it.

His heat is fading. I don’t think it’s quite done yet, but it is slowing, so now his body needs rest after everything that we have done.