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That catches my attention, and I can’t help but frown. “You think Scarlet might be part fae?”
“Maybe,” Zephyr shrugs. “Fact number five is, I can see that Scarlet does care for you. I truly don’t see her as a threat. If she wanted to hurt you or anyone on this ship, she would’ve done so by now. She would’ve let that Wysterian sink us and controlled something to get herself to land. Her ability makes this situation very different, and I just have a gut feeling about it.”
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “I respect your gut feelings, Zeph, but it’ll take more than that to prove her innocence. And even more so to convince the crew of it.”
As we talk, Lorian comes to sit next to Zephyr, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Watching them, I see the happiness and comfort they share—something I’ve been craving ever since that first spark ignited between Scarlet and me. But how much of this feeling is mine, and how much belongs to her?
“Captain,” Lorian says, drawing my attention back to him. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“You say that every day. At some point, you have to just start expecting to find me here,” I manage a smile.
“Give yourself some time to think,” Zephyr suggests, as the two of them get ready to leave. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. Just in case we die tomorrow, or whenever that storm reaches us, I prefer to go out with a bang.” He winks at me, and the two of them disappear.
“Right,” I mumble, my heart heavy with the responsibility that comes with being the Captain and harboring feelings for someone so dangerous… But I can’t shake the image of Scarlet’s face when she fought to save us, despite everything. She didn’t have to risk her life. Yet, she did.
The mess hall empties around me, the laughter and camaraderie of my crew fading into the night. I swig the last drop from my flask, its once-warming contents now barely a memory. Turning in for the night seems like a good idea until that familiar sensation begins to stir within me—coming from the bond.
“Damn it all,” I mutter as I refill my flask and head to the deck, hoping the cool night air will offer some reprieve.
I make my way to the railing, closing my eyes and letting the breeze caress my face. The scent of saltwater and fresh air fills my nostrils, a welcome reminder of why I chose this life. Granted, it was the only thing I knew. I was bound to fill my father’s shoes from the first breath I took to his last.
When I open my eyes, I find myself entranced by the sight before me: the three moons hanging heavy in the sky, casting their halos of light on the dark-capped waves below. The water is mostly still, but there’s a storm on the horizon–the one we outran before our detour to the Western Isles. It’ll hit sometime tonight. The air is charged with it. I just hope it won’t be as rough as we anticipated.
I rest my forearms against the wooden railing, watching the current. The bond tugs at me, and for the love of all that’s sacred, I don’t know what Scarlet could be doing or thinking about that she’s turned on while held prisoner in her room, but fuck… My head drops forward and my eyes close tight. Heat blooms low in my stomach, my muscles in my stomach tightening until it hurts. My thoughts are consumed with images of her before I can stop it, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
“Get a grip, Sebastian,” I scold myself quietly, taking another long swig from my flask. This bond between us has proven to be both a blessing and a curse. I’ve never craved someone the way I do her. It’s like an addiction I can’t sweat out. Not once have I been so wrapped up in a woman that I’ve lost sight of what’s right for this ship or its crew.
Before her, I wouldn’t have put them in danger because I couldn’t walk away, yet she’s here, living–breathing. If her ploy had been to do something malicious, keeping her prisoner instead of floating her on the spot would’ve been like opening up the damn gate and letting her in. Luckily, there’s something else in this for her, assuming she is a witch. But I have to assume she is until proven otherwise. It’s the only thing I can do to hopefully keep whatever this is I’m working through from endangering anyone else.
“Focus on the storm,” I say aloud, attempting to push aside the butterflies that rampage through me. I feel fucking weightless and it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. Deep down, I know she doesn’t fully understand the impact she has on me, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. At least for now. It torments me, but it’s also given me peace of mind. I’d know if she meant to hurt someone, I’d feel it.
The storm in the distance looms on the horizon. There’s no way we’ll get the masts up in time. Not with how fast it’s moving. We’ll need to secure the deck and batten the hatches. Everything and Everyone but the water elementals need to be below deck when it hits.
I feel the tingles start in my damn toes… The only time that’s ever happened is with her and only when she was teetering on the precipice, dangerously close to falling and shattering so fucking beautifully… I wet my lips, tasting the lingering wine. It’s almost over. She’ll come. She’ll go to bed. Then I can go on about my life business as usual.
My pants are so godsdamn tight. It’s like I’ve been edged to the brink, over and over, and denied any sense of pleasure, any form of release. It’s maddening. I cherished this feeling once, before all this witch business. I reveled in it because I could bury myself in her until I was satisfied, but now it’s the sickest form of torture imaginable.
I didn’t know how sex was supposed to feel before this connection was placed. It felt good, sure, but not like this. Not where you forget everything and anything and the only thing that matters is the woman lying in front of you and the sounds you can coax her into making. It’s like I’ve experienced everything from behind a window.
You can see the trees through the glass, see the grass sway in the breeze and the birds, but when you step outside, you experience it. The sounds, the textures, the taste. Once you know what it feels like to be outside, looking through that window will never be the same. You’ll know too much and crave to feel it again. Scarlet is the fucking outside, and I don’t want to look through the window anymore. But I can’t just step outside. Not without risking everything I’ve built, my ship, my crew’s lives, my family… myself.
The bond calms for a moment and I suck in a breath, filling my lungs until they can’t hold any more air and letting it out through my nose. My nostrils flare, and some of the tension eases, but not all. I run the heel of my hand down my stomach and over the front of my pants, trying to adjust myself. There’s not enough room and leather doesn’t give. It constricts and suffocates and robs the blood flow, adding to the entire orchestra of discomfort that only one person can fix.
Taking another swig from my flask, I pray the alcohol will travel south. I’d much rather it be useless at this point than so hard it hurts. However, the irony isn’t lost on me—seeking solace from one intoxicating substance while being overwhelmed by another.
I stand there, staring into the darkness, watching the storm inch closer. It’s like it’s taunting me, or maybe the purple streaks lighting up the low-hanging clouds are just symbolic. Scarlet is my storm, and fuck… she’s going to rock the boat. She’s already crashed into me so hard that I’ve lost control. All it’ll take is the wind to pick up and she’s going to wreck me.
Scarlet’s pleasure surges through me once more, stronger than before. My knees wobble as heat drips through me until it becomes unbearable. I grip the wooden railing tighter, biting into my tongue until I can taste the metallic tang of blood. The pain doesn’t even put a dent in the pleasure that consumes me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I curse under my breath, but it comes out as more of a moan. I down the last of the wine in my flash, heart pounding in my chest. My breaths come out in jagged beats like I’ve run a mile instead of just freaking standing here. This can’t continue.
But her pleasure doesn’t cease, instead, it ebbs and flows in and out, just shy of reaching a crescendo. With each wave, my frustration mounts. Unable to take it any longer, I push off the railing and stalk down the companionway and down below deck.
Before my mind can stop me, I reach Scarlet’s door, dispelling the barrier keeping her locked inside. As the door creaks open, she startles, sitting up in bed with wide eyes. The book in her hand drops onto the bed.
26
Hook
