Stone
I likedthe way her scent surrounded me. Vanilla and the sea. I liked the way she held herself together and how she broke into pieces in my arms.
I looked at her from across the boat I’d built.
She seemed so small in her fur coat, holding tightly to the fishing pole as the water moved beneath us. How could she be the same girl who wrote the letters in the bottles? Equally brutal and bewitching. Deadly and divine. This was her secret. There was a half of her she wanted no one to have—a slice of midnight.
And she was quiet here, looking at me from the other side of the boat with abandon in her eyes. It was the same look she had right before she crumbled into my arms. Not one that said she regretted spending the day fishing in the cold so I could eat, but a look that said she was happy she was here with me, no matter what we were doing.
“I can’t believe you built this in such a short time,” she said, running a palm down the edge of the boat. Her attention drifted to the ocean’s horizon in the far distance as we bobbed between the mainland and the island. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone fishing. I didn’t realize until now how much I loved being out here.”
I pushed the oars forward. “I can’t imagine a woman like you dirtying her hands with this sort of thing.”
Circe gasped, her hand against her chest and her hair falling enchantingly from its pin. “Excuse me, you’re speaking to the daughter of a fisherman.”
“This does not equate to anything.”
A sudden idea struck her.
I noticed when her brows jumped.
“We have two poles. Want to make a wager?” she asked.
“If you are a fisherman’s daughter, then you should know fishing is one-half chance, one-half patience. It hardly requires skill.” I gave her the side-eye. “Besides, what makes you think I’m interested in anything more than your body?”
Her lips parted, eyes wounded when she looked at me.
Then she bit into her lip, hurt consuming features.
I loathed saying that to her, but I had to know.
“So, we are the same,” I said. “Words cut us both open.”
Her mouth fell open, understanding passing through her. “I didn’t mean what I said when I saw you last. I was—”
“Angry?” I finished. It was astonishing how she could dismiss how I’d physically assaulted her as though what I’d done could be stomped away, but on the other hand, allow words to seep, settle, and sting. I shook my head. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Her brow raised. “How so?”
“You truly want to know?”
“Yes.”
I rested the oars at the bottom of the boat and looked at her.
“I’ve seen your rush, Circe. I saw it in your eyes when you struck my face and when I fucked you. That night you recognized something in me, too, that you have within yourself, and in truth, that is why you let me have you. That’s also why you returned to me. This rush can be both a thrill and a blinding rage. You’re ashamed of it, but you’re not afraid of it. So, when it comes, you’d rather pierce your skin so no one else sees you.”
Her chest was heaving as she sat quietly, my every word dropping like cannons, never sparing a moment for the dirt to settle.
“Then, with absolutely no hesitation, you tear me apart with your sharp tongue before I have the chance to hurt your feelings. I’ve never met anyone like you,” I repeated. “You guard your heart closer than your body. My sympathies to the bloodthirsty fool who one day breaks it.”
“I see,” her chest caved as she wore an inscrutable expression, “a few weeks, and you already know everything there is to know about me.”
“Oh, this is only the shallow, Circe, but I do know how you taste.”
A blush crawled up her neck. “And how do I taste?”
“I’ll let you find out for yourself next time.”
