She hisses. “It’s not funny.”
I grin down at her, at the claw marks on my pants and the pink hair splayed over my chest. My pulse stutters at the sight. At how easily she fits here, with me. “I’m not going to let you die, Zephyra.”
“It sure feels like you are,” she mumbles into my skin.
“If you’ll recall, this was your plan.”
“Vesper’s plan.”
“The suggestion came from your mouth.”
“Have you ever had someone bite your dick off, Arion? Because I’mthis close.”
My cock twitches at the thought. Not of her biting it off, but at the sudden image of her lips wrapped around it. I clear my throat and shake my head. Which jostles her enough that she groans again.“Fuck flying,” she spits. “I hate this shit. Mermaids aren’t meant to be above sea level.”
I sigh and place a hand on her spine. Though all the energy in my body is currently directed at bleeding her, I search deep in my stomach for just a pinch more, just enough to spread soothing warmth through her belly and settle her stomach. Her nausea has begun gnawing at me, and I can almost convince myself that’s why I do it. That’s why I comfort her.
It isn’t at all because Zephyra being hurt, injured, weakened, or sick makes me want to set fire to the ship. To the world. Starting with that fucking sorcerer.
“Oh,” she breathes, her grip loosening on my thighs. Loosening but not leaving. She tilts her head back and looks at me. “Did you just—”
“Yes,” I say shortly, because I’d rather not discuss it at all.
Her lips part. “But… but…”
She smacks my bicep, the force behind it nearly throttling her off the plank. I steady her with a hand around her waist, even as she glares at me.
“What the fuck was that for?” I ask roughly, jaw clenched as I try to keep her blood off the ship.
“You need to stop using your magic!”
“Zephyra, I am bleeding you as we speak,andreplenishing that blood so you don’t die. We’re traversing the world twice over. How much life do you think this costs us?”
She ponders this sardonically. “Not enough, probably.” She licks those plump lips, and the sight isinfuriating. I slide my hand away from her waist, setting it back on her arm, where we’ve reopened her past scars in order to avoid creating new ones. And then, as usual, she changes the subject and tone drastically. “I don’t feel it. When you use your magic,” she says, “I can often feel your exhaustion or your pain. Even if it’s buried beneath a layer of everything I’m feeling. But right now… there’s nothing.”
I nod once. Terse. “For the best.”
She watches me closely, her head tilted. Her gaze roaming my body, my face, before narrowing. “Are you shielding it, warlock?”
“No,” I lie.
She curses under her breath. Then, “Arion.”
“Zephyra.”
“Stop wasting your magic. I’m not going to ask you again—”
“Do you want to taste decay on your tongue, Zephyra? Do you want to feel ash in the back of your throat? My ribs hurt, my lungs are bruised, and my organs feel fucking mangled. But I’m used to it, okay? I’m used to repressing it. It doesn’t affect me.”
She searches for another lie, but there isn’t one. Iamused to repressing it. Itdoesn’taffect me. And I’m sure as shit not going to put her through my trauma when she has so much of her own. “It’s fine, mermaid.”
She glares at me. “How long?”
“Eleven inches,” I say dryly. “Though I’ve never bothered to measure it, so that’s more of an estimation.”
“Enough with the jokes. You’re terrible at it.” She glares harder. “How long do youhave left?”
“Long enough,” I say.
