"Tomorrow," he said, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. "We'll take you somewhere new tomorrow. Show you more of our world."
"I can't wait." I pulled back reluctantly, already feeling the ache of separation building in my chest. I climbed the ladder back to the ship, and with every rung, I felt the pull of them below me. The physical ache of separation that grew stronger every time I left.
Soon, I told myself. Soon I won't have to leave. Soon I'll be theirs completely.
The thought didn't scare me anymore.
It felt like hope.
Chapter Sixteen
LILY
The bottle slipped from my fingers.
I watched it fall in slow motion, the amber glass catching the weak morning light that filtered through my tiny porthole. It tumbled end over end, beautiful and terrible, before hitting the edge of my small wooden chest with a sharp crack. The glass shattered on impact, sending glittering shards skittering across the worn floorboards like scattered stars.
The liquid inside—my scent blocker, my protection, my lifeline—splashed across the wood in a dark stain. I could smell it immediately: sharp and medicinal, almost burning in my nostrils. The scent that had kept me hidden for eight months. The scent that meant survival.
And now it was seeping into the cracks between the planks, disappearing forever.
"No, no, no—" The words tore out of me as I dropped to my knees, my nightshirt pooling around me on the cold floor. My hands scrambled uselessly at the wet wood, trying to scoop up the precious liquid, but it was already gone. Absorbed. Wasted.My fingers came away damp and smelling of chemicals, but there was nothing left to save.
I sat back on my heels, my chest heaving, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The broken glass glittered around me like accusations. Eight months of careful rationing. Eight months of making every single drop count, of applying it sparingly, of going without when I could manage it. All of it destroyed by one clumsy moment. One stupid, careless slip of my fingers.
My hands were shaking as I reached for the small backup vial I kept hidden in a tear in my mattress. The glass was cool against my palm, and I held it up to the faint light coming through the porthole. The liquid inside glowed faintly amber, thick and viscous.
Two doses. Maybe three if I stretched it thin enough to be nearly useless.
The swimming potion was almost as low. I felt for it in my pocket—the small vial Kaelan had given me, enchanted glass that never seemed to warm no matter how long I held it. One dose left. After that, no more midnight swims. No more breathing underwater, no more feeling the cool embrace of the ocean, no more weightlessness. No more them.
I pressed my hand to my mouth, fighting the urge to scream. The sound built in my chest like a living thing, clawing at my ribs, demanding release. But I couldn't. Someone might hear. Someone might come asking questions I couldn't answer.
So I swallowed the scream and forced myself to breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. The way Kaelan had taught me. The way that made my panic feel manageable instead of all-consuming.
Two doses. Maybe three days if I was careful. I could make it work. I had to make it work.
I cleaned up the broken glass with trembling hands, picking up each shard carefully, wrapping them in an old rag that I shoved deep into my pack. No evidence. No questions. The wet stain on the floor would dry. The smell would fade. No one would know.
No one except me.
The next hour was torture. I applied what little blocker I had left, dabbing it sparingly across my pulse points—the hollow of my throat, the insides of my wrists, behind my ears. The familiar sharp scent filled my nostrils, but even I could tell it wasn't enough. The coverage was too thin, too patchy. With each passing hour, my natural scent would start bleeding through. The scent that marked me as omega. The scent that made me valuable.
The scent that would get me killed—or worse.
When I finally emerged onto the deck, the sun was already climbing toward noon, a pale yellow disc burning through the morning haze. I'd missed half my shift, but the deck was chaos—ropes being hauled, sails being adjusted, men shouting orders across the spray-slicked wood. No one seemed to have noticed my absence.
At least, that's what I thought at first.
But as I moved across the deck toward my usual duties, I noticed the looks. Subtle at first—a glance held a moment too long, a head turning to track my movement. Then less subtle. Nostrils flaring openly as I passed. Brows furrowing in confusion. Eyes narrowing with something that looked almost like... recognition. Or fear.
The same response I'd seen yesterday, but more pronounced now. Like the siren scent on my skin was fading just enough to let something else peek through. Something that made every alpha on this ship sit up and take notice.
I scrubbed the deck with more force than necessary, the rough brush scraping against the salt-stained wood. My arms burned with the effort, but I welcomed the pain. It gave me something to focus on besides the fear coiling in my gut like a living thing. Keep my head down. Be invisible. Be nothing.
It almost worked.
Until Decker stepped into my path.
