I stare at him, trying to understand why his words affect me the way they do. I know what I have done, and that I could do it again if I lost control. That has always been enough to define me. But the way he speaks of it forces me to look at myself froma different angle. Until now, I have only measured myself by the harm I could cause, by the danger I carry beneath my skin. And by what I am not. By the absence of my tail that has followed me my entire life. But he speaks of me as if none of this is the whole truth. As if the moments where I choose not to use what I am, where I hold back when it would be easier not to, matter just as much.
“I didn’t want to drown him,” I admit, squeezing my eyes tight as though to rid myself of the memory. “I just wanted him to stop.”
He pauses.
“I believe you.”
His words make my throat tighten, and more tears stream down my cheek. He lowers the cloth back into the bucket before cupping the side of my face with his hand.
“You are,” he says, brushing away the tears with his thumb, “not a monster. You’re a siren. A siren with song and teeth, who defended herself against a man who actually became what you’re so afraid of. A monster.”
My gaze drifts across his face, following the line of his brow down to his eyes. I expect him to look away, to break the tension. He doesn’t. Instead, he looks at me with an intensity that disarms me. The longer his eyes hold mine, the more the tightness in my chest begins to loosen.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
When his gaze drops to my mouth, my breath catches. He leans forward, just slightly. The shift is small, but I feel it like the pull of the current in calm water. He is so close that I can see the rise and fall of his breathing, feel the warmth of his body against mine.
I do not move toward him. But I do nothing to stop him either.
His thumb, still resting against my cheek, drifts lower until it brushes my bottom lip, and I fight the urge to open it for him.The warmth of his touch sends a shiver rippling over my body, and for a heartbeat, I think he might close the distance entirely.
Then he stops. Realization flickers through his eyes at the same time as it reaches mine. With something close to reluctance he lowers his hand.
“You should rest,” he says quietly.
I expect him to leave. But he doesn‘t.
Instead, his fingers wrap around mine, and he remains seated beside me. I look down at our hands, surprised by how natural it feels. His presence somehow anchors me, and slowly, my body settles back into itself, the tension draining until all that’s left is a heavy, bone-deep exhaustion.
I am so tired.
So deeply tired that the fear, the shame, the angst become distant. I shift on the mattress, my fingers tightening around his.
Through half-closed eyes, I catch the shape of his face in the lantern glow one last time. Storm-grey eyes are the last thing I see before falling into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Iawaken,cocoonedinsheetsthat I do not want to leave anytime in the near future. Waking in warmth is not a common occurrence in the Orlop. Blankets and soft pillows surround me, and I turn over, pulling the blanket closer to my body, inhaling deeply. Salt and a trace of leather and smoke hit my nose, and I hold my breath for a while longer before exhaling slowly. It is his scent that surrounds me. I sigh at the smell.
Because this is his bed.
The memories of last night come flooding in, the way a dream you cannot fully remember does, in dregs, all blurred out and distorted. Voices. Images.
My siren song. Rat climbing the railing. Sable’s lips inches from mine.
By the seas, what have I done?
Drowned a cruel man.
The siren inside of me whispers in reassurance. I grab the blankets and tear them off me, my skin suddenly on fire. Gasping, I prop myself up on my elbows, running my fingers through my hair. They snag slightly on the knots that have formed during my fitful sleep, but I can’t help but wonder if I deserve the pain it brings. Rat was a cruel man, yes, but did he truly deserve to die? That wasn’t my decision to make. But the sea took him almost immediately, without hesitation. A dark part in me knows that this is proof enough that my actions were not completely and utterly unjustified.
Would he have killed me if I didn’t stop him? Perhaps.
Would he have plucked my scales off my skin and left me to bleed out on the deck? Of that, I am certain.
I take a deep breath, in an attempt to calm myself, but it is of little use. I look around the cabin. The lanterns along the wall are still lit, their soft glow painting the room in gold. There’s no light spilling into the room through the round windows. I am certain after the length of my sleep that it must be morning, so the darkness outside is a source of confusion. To my quiet disappointment, there is no sign of Sable. Sighing, I let my head fall back into the soft mattress. If I could stay here forever, I would. The thought of going out there and facing the crew makes my heart palpitate and my throat dry. I have killed one of their men. They will never forgive me, and rightfully so.
A monster that cannot be controlled.
