Dread licks up my spine at his words, but I steel myself.
It’s just water. It doesn’t matter. Instead, I focus on his words. “The Never?”
Callan pauses at that. His brow knots as he turns to me. “You haven’t… never mind. You’ll see. We’ll reach it in a few days.”
We head down a small set of steps. The narrow, dark hall is lit by a single lantern, and I follow as Callan strides down it. “That’s Merrick and Leo’s room. Smee and Rio share this one. And this is us.”
He swings open a dark wooden door. The room is bigger than I expected. Several framed windows look out into the darkness, a battered desk in front of them. There are boxes in here too, piled up against the walls.
My eyes skate past those, to the bed big enough for two. The white sheets are rumpled into careless heaps, and Callan sighs. His cheeks look a little darker as he ducks past me. “I’ll tidy this up.”
“There’s no need to clean on my account.” Turning away from the bed, I grip my elbows tightly and walk into the center of the room. The bed has been pushed back against the wall, a cracked dark leather chair beside it. The queasiness grows stronger. “May I refresh myself?”
He nods to a small door at the side of the room. “By all means. There’s a small jug of water you can use.”
I can feel his eyes on my back as I push the door open and slip through, closing it behind me and pressing my back against it. The room is small, an iron tub against the wall taunting me since it’s filled with packages. I take a few minutes to refresh before standing in front of the mirror. My reflection, distorted and cracked, stares back at me.
The soap smells a little spicy. Familiar, but not something I can name. Grabbing a cloth from the hook, I pour a small amount of water from the jug into the bowl and shed my cloak as well as the silk and gauze I wore beneath it, leaving my skin bare to the cool air. Starting with my arms, I scrub anywhere and everywhere I can reach. My heartbeat climbs until I can hear it once more, a pounding drum to the thoughts in my head.
Whatever he wants, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.
Better to be here than backthere.
Whatever he wants, it’s not something I haven’t already given, many times over.
Is there anything left to give?
There is not enough water to assuage the growing unease, and I toss the cloth down with a frustrated huff before gripping the basin’s edges.
The cough on the other side of the door makes me straighten.
“Are you alive in there?” Callan sounds amused. “I really wouldn’t recommend trying to climb through the head if you’re attempting an escape. Much more pleasant to jump off the side.”
My mouth twists in disgust as I stare over to the corner. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
“No rush.”
I glare over my shoulder at the door. “Your interruption suggests that thereisa rush.”
“Not at all.” Definite amusement. “Take whatever time you need.”
“How kind of you.” My mutter is quiet, but I still hear him laugh.
It grates at me, that laugh. Enough that I twist, yanking the door open and storming out. I don’t look at him at all as I make for the bed, my bare feet slamming into the wooden floor.
Silence follows me.
“How do you want it, then?” I gesture tightly to the now tidy sheets. “On my knees? Or my back?”
I turn back to face him. Callan sits in the chair, his face shadowed. But his hand is gripping the arm so tightly that his knuckles are white. “Selene—,”
I don’t look away.
Let him see me.
Let it be this between us and nothing else—a transaction, a demand. I have never looked at a male with anything butcoldness. Never pushed an invitation into soft, purring words, never glanced over a shoulder with a curl of my finger.
I have never put on a show. Politeness is the most I could ever bring myself to offer, and only when I needed the funds to pay off Boralas.
