My vision blurs as my tears well up, and I pull Seraphina into a fierce, heartfelt embrace. In this moment, I'm overwhelmed by the sheer depth of my gratitude and love for this incredible being who has been my guardian, my savior, and my unwavering support through every trial and tribulation.
"No, Sera, thank you," I choke out, my voice thick with tears. "I couldn't be more blessed to have you in my life, and I will spend every day trying to be worthy of the love and devotion you have shown me."
Seraphina's eyes are shining with tears of her own, and she pulls me back into another hug, squeezing me tight. "I love you too, Dani," she whispers, soft and fierce. "More than you could ever know."
And as we sit here, clinging to each other like a couple of emotional koalas, I can't help but feel like the luckiest bitch in all the realms.
Lucian
40
I'm hanging over the ship's railing like a limp noodle, my face practically kissing the waves as I hurl my guts out for the third goddamn time since we set sail. It's like my stomach has declared mutiny and is trying to secede from the rest of my body. Sweat is pouring down my face like I'm in a fucking sauna, and the sickening churning in my gut just won't quit.
Apparently, I missed the memo about needing sea legs for this little adventure. It was one thing when we landed here in the middle of a freaking Michael Bay movie, explosions and all, but it's a whole different ballgame when the constant rocking of the ship is making me feel like I'm on a never-ending roller coaster from hell.
"Aye, mate. You'll get your sea legs soon enough," the Captain shouts from his perch on the helm, his laughter grating on my nerves. He seems to be getting a real kick out of watching me suffer.
I try to muster up a witty retort, something along the lines of 'Yeah, well, fuck you too, you salty son of a bitch,' but another wave of nausea hits me like a tsunami, and I'm back to painting the side of the ship with a lovely shade of blood red. It's like my insides are staging a coup, and my esophagus is the unfortunate battlefield.
I'm clinging to the railing like it's my last lifeline, my knuckles turning white from the death grip. The wood feels like it's made of sandpaper and broken dreams, with splinters stabbing into my hands like tiny, vindictive toothpicks. The ocean is spitting salty mist into my face like a pissed-off llama, and it's mixing with the sweat and tears pouring down my cheeks like a tragic cocktail of bodily fluids.
I must look like a hot mess, but I couldn't give a flying fuck at this point.
It's fucking humiliating, but I can't seem to stop the revolt happening in my stomach. I'm starting to wonder if this is some cosmic punishment for all the shitI've pulled over the years—like the universe is finally saying, 'Hey, asshole, time to pay your dues. Hope you like the taste of your blood because you'll see a lot of it.'
I'm trying to think of anything but the swirling, churning, 'fuck-my-life' feeling in my gut.
Seraphina.
My mind wanders back to that juicy conversation I overheard at the Inn between Seraphina and Dani the other day. You know, right after Rhyland snapped my neck like a damn toothpick. I came to just in time to hear Seraphina's angelic voice while I was shamelessly eavesdropping like the nosy bastard I am.
And guess what? My celestial snickerdoodle is willing to give this crazy ride a shot! Cue the happy dance. Seriously, kudos to Dani and her wondrous girl talk. She's the wingwoman I never knew I needed but am eternally grateful for, like finding a surprise chimichanga in the fridge when you're starving.
Speaking of my cosmic cupcake, I smell her before I see her. My senses are tuned into her frequency, picking up on her angelic presence like radar. She comes up to the side of the boat where I'm perched, clinging to the railing like it's my last hope of salvation. I don't want her to see me like this, all pathetic and green around the gills. It's not exactly the image of Suave, debonair Lucian, which I'm trying to project here.
"Hi, are you going to be okay?" Her sweet, angelic voice has me swooning like a Victorian lady in a corset. It's like auditory ambrosia, soothing my battered soul and settling my stomach, if only for a moment.
I gather myself, putting on my best 'I'm totally fine' face. Can't look like a pussy in front of my love, now can I? "Yeah, I'll be good. Don't worry about me, beautiful. I'm just communing with the ocean, you know…getting in touch with my inner sailor." I flash her a grin, hoping it comes across as charming and not like I'm two seconds away from hurling again. "How are you doing?"
She giggles and blushes, and holy shit, it's the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen. I want to wrap her up in my arms and never let go. Motion sickness be damned. "I'm great," she says with a smile that could light up the ocean. "This is amazing, isn't it? Just so beautiful." She looks out at the open seas, her eyes sparkling with wonder.
The bright blue waters stretch out for miles as we head towards Serraphatic Cove on a mission to find this key Calypso has demanded of Dani. It is beautiful, I'll give it that. But I can't take my eyes off her. She's the real view here, the most stunningthing in this whole goddamn realm. "Not as beautiful as you," I say with my patented panty-dropping smirk.
Smooth, Lucian. Real smooth.
Seraphina looks over her shoulder at me, a blush creeping up her neck like a delicate rose. And fuck me, that neck. I want to lick it, suck it, kiss it, worship it like the divine temple it is. She's so perfect, it's almost unreal. I can't believe she's mine. But she is, and I will have her, claim her, and make her fall head over heels for yours truly.
I'll be the Casanova to her Aphrodite, the Gomez to her Morticia. I'll make her swoon, weak in the knees, and make her forget every other man she's ever been with because that's what she deserves. The best of the best, the crème de la fucking crème.
I lean against the railing, trying to look suave even though my complexion probably rivals the Hulk on a bad day. I flash Seraphina my most charming grin. "So, cupcake, I know we got off on the wrong foot, what with me almost killing your bestie and all. But in my defense, I was having a really bad day—a bad week, actually. Woke up on the wrong side of the coffin, you know?"
Seraphina and I have been doing this awkward dance of small talk for the past few days while we're stuck on this floating flea island they call Driftwood Market. She's been keeping her distance like I'm carrying some kind of vampire cooties— which, okay, fair point. But hey, I've been on my best behavior, taking whatever crumbs of attention she'll toss my way like a starving pigeon in Central Park.
Meanwhile, Dani's been playing helicopter mom, hovering around Seraphina like she's Secret Service protecting the president. She has this "don't breathe wrong in her direction" vibe. Like, seriously? Me? Upset my angel cake? That's like accusing a unicorn of tax fraud—it just doesn't compute.
I tried negotiating visitation rights with Dani (and by negotiating, I mean whining like a teenager who got their Xbox taken away). Still, she shut that down faster than a speeding ticket. So, instead of getting quality time with my celestial cupcake, I got stuck bunking with my brothers. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.
And don't even get me started on Rhyland, Mr. Brooding-Is-My-Middle-Name. Three days of listening to him whine about being separated from Dani like some lovesick teenager at summer camp. Welcome to the club, bro! Now you know how it feels to be cockblocked by circumstances beyond your control. Karma's a bitch, and her name is Dani Pierce.
