I don’t.
The first brush of his lips against mine pulls a light gasp from my throat, the sound slipping out before I can stop it. Heat spreads through me too fast, turning my body numb until I can no longer feel the ground beneath my feet. I lean my body towards him, even though my brain screams not to, I cannot help myself. I cannot resist. I kiss him.
This seems to be what he was waiting for. He places one hand against the small of my back and removes the other from mine, tangling it through my hair instead. He pulls my body flat against his. He tastes like salt and smoke and something distinctly his, and it pulls a sound from me that I don’t recognize as my own.
For a moment, there is nothing else. Not the sea. Not the shadows. Not the things he didn’t tell me or the things we don’t know how to fix. There is only the way my body responds to him, as though it was always meant to be pressed against his.
When we break apart, my breath comes uneven, my lips tingling. Thoughts twist through my fogged brain, blurred and entirely unintelligible. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be compelled by the song of a siren and then be snapped back into reality the moment it fades.
“I was foolish,” Sable mutters, his nose brushing against mine, his breath hot against my skin.
I keep my eyes down at our feet, not able to form any words just yet. “Mh?”
“I was foolish,” he whispers, his dark brows knitting together slightly, “thinking I could resist a siren.”
“Wha—”
He kisses me again. More confident this time, as his mouth crushes against mine. It feels honest and desperate at the same time, like a confession of a man who is finally allowing himself to feel. Allowing himself to act on his desires. His lips are softand sure as I tangle my hands through the hair at the back of his head, making him groan into the kiss.
I am kissing Captain Sable Crowe.
Again.
When I am about to break the kiss to draw in some air, he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I assure him, and lean back so I can look at him properly.
The man in front of me appears conflicted, the muscles in his jaw tense, his brows drawn together. No sign of the usual smugness or confidence. I try to look him in the eyes, but he averts his gaze, staring at the sea instead.
“I must,” he murmurs and lets me go, his hands brushing the fabric of my gown back into place, as if he wants to remove all evidence of him letting himself go. Of him losing control. “Because I promised myself never to cross that line with you. And yet, I just couldn’t help myself. You deserve better, love. Someone whole. No curse. No shadow.”
He couldn’t be more wrong. We’re both not whole, both fighting our inner monsters. Maybe we’re two broken pieces that belong together so perfectly that even the sea itself intertwined our fates. But he doesn’t seem to think that way. I get the feeling, now more than ever, that he has already given up on himself. And with that, has given up on us.
Sable shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then runs his hand through his hair, leaving it messier than it was before. My silence must make him nervous.
“Won’t you say something?” he eventually asks, and lifts his hand toward me, then drops it a moment later.
I swallow down the knot that has formed in my throat as wetness wells in my eyes. I try not to blink so that it does not spill. I don’t want to cry, not now.
“The next time you kiss me, make sure not to make me feel like you regret it the moment after,” I say, my voice nothing more than a whisper, and yet it feels like I just screamed at him. “And only do it if you are willing to fight for yourself. For us.”
Sable clears his throat and retreats. I watch him turn his back toward me and leave without another word, the warmth fading from where he last touched me. Suddenly, the balcony feels much bigger than before, and all I long for is to slip back into my dream, back to the little island just above the water.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
IstareatthedoorSable left through for what feels like hours before gathering myself enough to bear making my way to the orlop. Most of the men there are still asleep. Morning light spills down from the deck above, catching on the low beams and the curve of the hull, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. The hammocks hang perfectly still, unmoving, bodies resting heavy inside them. My boots sound too loud against the boards in the quiet, the rhythm of my steps the only thing breaking through the calm, aside from the soft rise and fall of breathing.
It makes sense. There is no wind. No sail to tend. Nothing urging the ship forward.
Lark sleeps in his hammock, damp hair clinging to his forehead, his chest rising in slow, even breaths. Seeing him like this loosens something in my chest, and a smile creeps onto my lips before I realize the feeling it evokes in me. He looks peaceful. Safe. Nightglass’s hammock beside him hangs empty.
I blink against the brightness as I step onto the main deck. Sunlight floods the ship in a way that feels almost unreal after the darkness we passed through, warm and steady, reflecting off the pale, glassy water around us. I do not look toward the helm. Even if I did, I doubt I would find the captain there while the Noctis lies motionless.
Instead, my eyes search for the Glim.
It circles the ship in slow movements, as if waiting for us. The faint silver thread it leaves behind is almost invisible against the smooth, iridescent water. I grip the railing a little tighter and lean over to get a better look at the surface. It mirrors the dark hull of the Noctis perfectly, as though the ship has been set in a mirror.