And it has never mattered.
The only thing I can control is myself. That is what matters. What keeps my soul from breaking apart completely.
My words are steady, my tone even. Detached. “Most seem to prefer it from behind. You can hold onto my wings that way. It seems to add some sort of excitement—”
“Stop.”
Beneath my feet, the world shifts. Enough that I stagger to my left before I find my balance, steadying myself against the bedpost. “I’d prefer to get it over with, if I even get a say. I’m tired.”
I am so, so tired.
The room roils again. Several boxes, stacked high against the wall, slip free of their binding. One crashes to the ground, splitting and sending a sack of what looks like grain scattering across the floor, thousands of pale seeds pouring out.
“Fuck.” At the harsh mutter, I flinch back. Callan gets to his feet, black-laced boots crunching against the spilled food as he stalks directly through it. His fingers drop to his leather coat, yanking at the buttons before he shrugs it off. It leaves him in only a cream linen shirt, the laces undone at his throat.
My body braces. Waiting. For the demand, or the punishment.
But he doesn’t evenlookat me.
The leather is warm as he wraps it around my shoulders, pulling the edges together without touching my bare skin. He’s broader than I am, but it barely fits, even with my wings bound.
The room is silent, the faint undulation of the waves against the ship our only accompaniment.
He doesn’t stop until I’m covered.
The faint, spiced scent of the soap I used to wash rises up from the leather. It reminds me of theoudhI was gifted once by a Master long before Johan, only to lose the precious scent to Boralas when he learned of it.
And only then do I feel his eyes. They skate my face, and no lower. “Nobody will touch you on this ship.”
Lips parting, I jerk my gaze up to meet his. And his eyes—it looks almost as though they’re on fire, the bronze flaring brightly in molten movement.
His words come slowly. Low, but no less heated for it. They strike against my skin like sparks. “You do not need to barter yourself for shelter, or food, or human decency. Not here.”
“I thought—”
“Then you werewrong.”
He snaps the last word, and I shrink back, my feet landing on the grains and digging into my skin. The edges of the leather slip from his fingers, and a low sound of anger rumbles in his throat. “Get into bed. Sleep. I’ll clean this up.”
Perhaps it’s the floor, still shifting beneath me, that has me so off-balance. “I can help.”
“It’s fine.” He shoulders past me, toward the door. I stay where I am, clutching his coat and staring blankly at the chair he just vacated.
Nobody will touch you on this ship.
His voice sounds from behind me. Quiet, but steady. “I have never needed to force my way into a female’s bed. I do not intend to start now.”
“Understood.” My voice is hoarse. “What—what do I do, then? While I’m here?”
The dark, heavy thrum of his anger softens the air around me, but only a little. I can still sense it—his displeasure like a prickle against my skin. “We pull our weight onVolatus. You’llbe given work to do. But not—not that. I’ll be back to clean up, but nobody else will enter. Get into the bed, Selene. Nobody else will be joining you in it, least of all me.”
When I don’t move or say anything, he sighs. “The door will be locked, just in case you should get the urge to wander.”
My mouth opens, but the heavy slam of the door and the turning of a key tells me any discussion is finished.
Chapter ten
Callan
