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We stayed on deck only long enough to wave goodbye to Ordelpho and those who had come to see us off, then went below. No matter how much our blood kept us warmer than the average person, the temperature outside, especially out on the water, was just too cold to tolerate for long.
Lucius and I headed to his cabin, which was far warmer. He busied himself with chieftain business—honestly, I had long ago given up on feigning interest in what exactly he did with his time—while I unpacked my things. The cabin was three times as large as my old one, with a sitting room area, Lucius’ desk, a large bed, and several bureaus.
A late lunch was served in the dining room, and Pateus, Ander, and I chatted over hot stew, talking about Ghypsom City. I had heard of the place, of course, but seeing it in person was something I was very curious about. Both Ander and Pateaus had been there many times, as it was a major trading hub, mostly catering to merchants and the wealthy for the exotic textiles they were known for.
Since Port Minerva was the one and only “city” I had ever visited, I was eating up all their descriptions and stories they were telling me about the City of Silk and Spice.
“Definitely take her to the silk factory,” Pateus was saying, scraping his spoon into his now empty bowl. “They both weave and dye the silk on the premises, and also have their own clothier shop. Every year the place apprentices out. My niece was taught there.” His proud smile made me smile right back at him.
I didn’t know much about Pateus, but I enjoyed his soothing company. He was polite, pleasant, and had a great sense of humor.
“Oh, I will,” Ander replied, patting his vest pocket. “I have a list of things Neil wants me to purchase while I’m there.”
Just then, Lucius came into the room. I noticed right away his hair was wet, and when he glanced at me, I raised an eyebrow.
“Issue with one of the lines,” he explained as he took the seat next to me. He tucked in his chair, and his hand immediately went to my thigh in a proprietary grip. I could smell the cold sea on him, along with that comforting yet tantalizing summer musk.
Just feeling his touch had my heart racing, and I caught his eye. His lips parted before turning into that lupine grin of his.
“Give me five minutes,” he whispered in my ear. “Go to the cabin and undress. Wait for me on the bed.”
The others were still in conversation about Ghypsom City, thankfully, but I felt myself blush nonetheless. “Okay.” He squeezed my thigh hard enough for me to squeal in anticipation, and I quickly stood up and left the room without a goodbye.
Lucius’ chuckle followed me all the way to his cabin.
Chapter Eight
Sierra
Our days on the Freedom started with lazy mornings of slow love making and warm touches, where Lucius would gaze into my eyes as he eased himself inside me. The morning sunlight, faint and silver, would paint his sable hair like the pelt of a panther, its silken strands framing my face in a dark curtain when he kissed me with languor.
In those moments, we barely spoke, letting our bodies communicate instead. Dawn was his most vulnerable, as if in sleep, he was made anew and spent the rest of the day rebuilding himself into the controlled man the world knew. He was soft and gentle, raw and tender. He was the Lucius others never saw, and his allowing me to witness this part of him filled me with a sense of honor.
I understood now what Demos had meant when he’d said my giving myself to him had been an honor. I had given Demos my heart, my body, my soul, not hiding a thing. And Lucius was trusting me with the same.
It was heady stuff, this trust.
Afterward, Lucius would dress and see to his daily chores, while I got ready for my day. We’d then meet in the dining room for breakfast, him returning back to his duties and me strolling the deck, either with Ander as company, or just by myself, the quiet and sea all around me. Even though the icy air cut like a knife, I couldn’t resist taking in the magnificence of sky and ocean.
When the lunch hour came, either Lucius and I would eat in the cabin, or we’d have it with the others, but usually it was just the two of us for the rest of the day until dinner. Those hours in the cabin with him were the day’s highlight, and I cherished each moment. Our conversations were rich and thorough. I told him about growing up in Providence, about my parents, especially my father, who had nurtured my love of learning, never thwarting my curiosity.
We discussed our favorite books, favorite poems, favorite stories of old. At first, I had initially been surprised how well-read Lucius was, but then I realized it made sense: Lucius was a self-made man, and knowledge was power to him. In that aspect we were alike, but for different reasons—he for ambition, me for my insatiable curiosity.
I was sitting across from him in the sitting area of his cabin, my legs tucked underneath me on the wide, cozy chair. It was an hour until dinner. We had been at sea for five days now, and the daily routine was as natural to me as putting on a favorite pair of slippers.
Lucius had a drink in one hand, the other resting on his knee. “Tell me how you discovered you were Omega.” His words were said with empathy, as if he knew how startling the discovery had been for me.
I smiled ruefully. “I was told by a stranger. After my heat was over.”
I briefly started at the beginning, about Demos’ visit in the drawing room back in my father’s house, about the flask he’d given me during the Autumn Festival, the tainted tonic that proved what I was. I told him about meeting the Ongahri for the first time, about the envoy, about the cave and the winter storm that ended with Lucinda’s death.
When I got to the part about Auria, Lucius’ face paled.
“An elemental?” he breathed.
I hesitated in adding more. Auria had never told me not to share my knowledge about her existence, but for some reason it felt like I was exposing her and her world. At the same time, Lucius was my mate, and what difference would it matter, honestly? Nevertheless, the feeling of guilt was there. Of caution. But it was quickly replaced with a touch of anger, anger at the role of pawn I had been forced to play in a game where I didn’t know the rules, nor the players, only that it existed.
Still I felt like a pawn. It had only been days ago when the Sapera had said all those things to me. And Gods, I was tired of prophecies and cryptic words and seers. I wanted to move on, live this new life. Finally, I had a mate, had a future and was just getting started. I still wanted Fadon and Demos, but those desires were part and parcel of simply living. Talk of White Queens and rites, of visions and messages from the fates, were muddling my enjoyment of today.
