“Capable of both great and terrible things.”
The rain stops and the quiet deepens. Veda is so lost in thought, she doesn’t realize Hiram has moved until she feels him at her back. She doesn’t want to get used to this, but quickly melts into his embrace, stamping down jitters from his hand on her stomach. Much like every part of their relationship up to this point, it’s an enigmatic contradiction that somehow feels ...right.
“Peter is looking up every edible elixir and potion to try. Clinton has been securing magical-use permits, at my behest, to keep things aboveboard. Khadijah has been putting feelers out with other healers she knows. They’ve never had much information to go on until my uncle’s case studies.” Hiram massages her shoulders. “Amazing what can happen when everyone is on the same page.”
Veda closes her eyes. “Sounding cocky there, Ellis with twoL’s.”
“Never letting me live that down?”
“Absolutely not.”
Hiram rolls his eyes. “Come on, let’s go swimming.”
Togetheris silent.
A terrifying word, but she agrees.
Antaris graduates from the first step of the pool to the second, but is dubious about going any farther. Veda watches from the edge, skin still fully covered to avoid worried looks from Antaris. A book in hand, the sound of lapping water is soothing.
Hiram is as graceful in water as he is on land. She watches him dip beneath the surface in the center of the pool and swim to Antaris. He stands up in the shallow end, water rolling off his body. After wiping the excess water from his face, Hiram shakes his hair, making Antaris cover his own face to avoid the spray. Hiram sits next to where he stands on the step.
“I started swimming at your age,” he says, drawing Antaris’s attention. “I was always skinny and sick. I wasn’t allowed to run or play sports, couldn’t even go outside or anything. But I was allowed to swim, so I taught myself.”
Antaris signsscaredand points at his father.
“Was I scared?” Hiram asks, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Yeah. At first I was by myself, but I figured out how to float and tread water, then I read a few books and tested out kicking my feet while moving my arms.”
Torn between impressed and sad at his lack of supervision, Veda asks, “You learned how to swim through books?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Hiram replies candidly, his focus shifting back to his son. “May I show you?”
Antaris squints at him, hesitant, before giving a tentative nod.
He steps down cautiously, flinching at the chill of the water, and grabs Hiram, who doesn’t let Antaris go. Veda watches as he shows Antaris how to stand in water that nearly reaches his head, patient when his motions grow wild. Then he teaches his son how to tread water, something Antaris picks up instinctively. They progress from there to floating. Again, Antaris flails at first, but Hiram says, “I’ve got you. Trust me.”
He repeats it twice before Antaris shows signs of belief. Then once more when Hiram lets him float on his own.
“I won’t let you sink.”
And he doesn’t.
Midnight finds Veda at peace. Breathing salty air, listening to the waves break against the shore, and timing the flashing light from a nearby lighthouse all occupy her time until Veda decides to wander inside for a glass of water before bed. She’s almost finished when Hiram wanders into the kitchen.
Blessedly, he’s wearing a shirt.
“How was the rest of the day with Antaris?” She hasn’t seen him since he and Antaris left for the island’s library.
“Good. We ate sandwiches by the pier and shocked the librarian. They didn’t have any kids’ books, so he donated his. I tried to stop him.” Hiram’s expression is fond, amused. “He can’t be stopped when he’s determined, it seems.”
“Like father, like son.”
“Exactly.” Hiram’s smirk grows as he edges closer. “He crashed from the long walk, so I carried him to bed.” He steals her glass, finishes it, and sets it down on the counter beside her. “I was dozing when I heard you, and here I am.”
“Here you are.”
Resting his hands on her waist like they belong, he draws her to him as he has each night. No conversation is needed, only his presence and the quickened breaths between languid kisses. Veda rises on her tiptoes as he coaxes her lips and knees to part. Hiram wastes no time filling the space, kisses burning down her neck, craned in permission. The occasional hint of teeth makes her squirm.
“Can I see you?” His question is murmured against her skin, smooth and reverent. Warm like the fingertips that toy with the drawstrings of her sleep pants.
