Page 32

As a guardian of time, it’s my job to make sure it’s not messed with, yet I did it once and I changed everything. I won’t do it again, not even to stop her pain.

“We are here,” Raiden interrupts, and I glance out of the window. I was gone longer than I thought. It’s dark now, and the ocean is crashing against the shore to our right as we traverse the road. At the iron fence, Kitt gets out and keys in a code. It opens, admitting the stolen van, and we get out.

“What are we doing?” Ferol asks, but we don’t answer. I help lift Torrin, and we get him down to the dock.

She follows silently as we walk to a small boat. It’s a squeeze to get us all on board, but then Emrys controls the motor, and we are on the crashing waves. There’s nothing out there, unless you know where to look, and he kills the engine, allowing us to drift just as we reach deep water. Kitt puts his hand out and connects with the ship, anchoring us. Even if it’s not visible to our eyes, habit has made it easier. Reaching over, I take Ferol’s hand and place it on the ladder I know is there, and her eyes widen. “Up,” I murmur, and she follows Kitt as I heave Torrin up. Between Emrys and me, we manage to get him over the side of the boat and lay him on the deck.

The lights come on, strung across the entire area, including the leftover shipping containers we turned into an armoury and shooting range. The old oil tanker is huge and slow, but it does the trick. The blue metal is comforting, reminding us that we are home.

“Magic,” Ferol murmurs, “conceals this entire place.”

“Not just conceals, but protects too. Nothing can enter. It’s safe, our hidden sanctuary and our home,” I admit. “Come on, I’ll show you to the empty cabin.”

Kitt’s orders have already spread through our heads. Ignoring her, Kitt, Emrys, and Raiden carry Torrin below to his cabin. I take her through the iron door, and we head down a different set of steps.

“Cafeteria and kitchen are there,” I explain, pressing my hand through the swinging door to show her. “The bathroom for this level is here.” I indicate another scratched blue metal door opposite before reaching the door at the end. “This is where you’ll be for now.”

“Will you lock me in?” she asks as I open the door to show her. The room is small and has no comforts, just a single bed pushed against the wall, a small window, a desk, and a wardrobe. The area is barely big enough to pace, but it’s safe.

“There’s nowhere for you to go here, so you won’t be locked in. I wouldn’t cross to the other side though. That’s where our quarters are, and Kitt won’t like it.” I slip past her and look around the room. “I’ll bring you some spare clothes. They’ll probably be too big, but still.”

I hesitate as I reach the door, and she looks at me.

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widen as she stares. “For what?” she whispers.

“For everything, for what you have gone through, what you will have to go through, and what you will have to do.” I clench my fingers on the door, feeling it dent. “I wish I could change it for us all.”

“We make our own paths, Bram. Wishing doesn’t change anything. It’s all about choices, and we both made our own. You don’t need to be sorry.”

We stare at each other before I duck my head. “I’ll get you those clothes.”

By the time I return, Ferol’s room is empty. Hesitating, I peer down at the folded T-shirt and jogging pants. The closest thing I could find to her size were Raiden’s garments. He won’t be happy about it, but I can’t imagine she wants to keep wearing those bloodstained, filthy clothes.

I hear the shower running, so I turn and stop at the door. She’ll want the clothes after, but if I walk in, that would be rude, right? I’m so used to living with men with no boundaries that I genuinely don’t know.

Lingering awkwardly, I lift my hand to knock when the shower shuts off and the door opens. She’s rubbing a towel across her hair, completely naked and dripping with water as her eyes lock on me, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Er . . . clothes,” I blurt, thrusting them at her in a panic, trying not to lower my eyes, but they can’t help it as she tosses the towel behind her and accepts my offering.

Uncaring about my gawking, she dresses, her slightly damp skin sticking to the material as I turn, cover my eyes, and try my hardest not to remember what I just saw.

She looked like heaven.

“I’m hungry. Are you?” she asks as she steps past me and heads to the kitchen. I trail after her, my throat dry and my body reacting oddly. There’s a fire burning through me, and I don’t understand as I watch her scan the room. It’s small despite the size of the ship, just a few tattered leather booths and a swinging door to a galley. On the side are nonperishables, and she grabs two tubs of noodles and puts them under the hot water machine. Within minutes, she sets them on the table before she slides into a blue booth. I do the same on the other side as she pushes one across to me. The instant noodles are still steaming as I open the lid and twirl it up as she starts eating hers. The silence is loud but surprisingly not strained.

“What does it feel like to die?” I ask as I play with the noodles.

She purses her lips, her fork poised in the air as she thinks. “It hurts every time, but for a moment, there’s peace . . . a comforting darkness that I never want to leave, but then I’m thrown back. It’s like holding my breath for too long and finally getting to gasp in air. It leaves me shaken for a moment.”

Nodding, I take a bite and think through her words before I come to the same conclusion. It must be agony, and she has endured it ten times. She may be stronger than any of us.

“What does pleasure feel like?” It slips out before I can stop myself. I’m unused to guarding my questions. There’s no shame, distance, or secrets with the others. She blinks, and my face heats. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Despite my embarrassment, she seems more surprised than anything as she takes a bite and chews, thinking it through.

“You’ve never had pleasure, not even from your own hand?”