Page 87 of Claimed By the Depths

Circle, sigil, and sacred word… For each Divari, or for the group of five as a whole?

Mind heavy with possibilities, I loosed a breath. Raking my fingers through wind-tousled waves, I leaned back in the chair I occupied—the chair in Caspian’s chambers.

Seated across from me, the captain of the Bloodmarked took another swig from the bottle of rum he kept stationed on his desk. While he swept his gaze over me, my starved glance followed the languid bob of his throat. With seconds ticking by in the comfortable silence that blanketed us, I continued to admire the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, thoughts of piercing his flesh permeating my mind.

Only when my attention met Caspian did he set the liquor down, tongue sweeping over his bottom lip with intention. “Is there something on your mind, little siren?”

Allowing the stillness to simmer, I shrugged. “Should there be? Or are you asking because you’ve been caught undressing me with your eyes?”

“There is no point in doing so when the act itself will prove far more satisfying.” The smile lines I once found infuriating appeared as he cocked his head. “I’d much rather prefer taking my time to worship you like the goddess you are. Though,” he reached across the wood, brushing his thumb over my jaw, “I want you to know there is no rush, Ro. I am a patient man, and nothing matters more than creating an environment where you feel safe enough to heal, let go, and be vulnerable with me. So we move at your pace and without pressure, and you let me know if there is anything I do that makes you uncomfortable or triggers any memories with him.”

My breath stilled.

While a deep part of me had known Caspian was not the poisoned-tongue and harsh handler he pretended to be, another feared that all I wished to lean into was a farce. It had been that way with Malrik, who’d offered false hope and conditional promises.

The white-eyed Overseer wore the mask of protector and caretaker in the beginning, a mirage that split in two not long after he purchased me. But where he’d cloaked himself in innocence, only for his abusive nature to reveal itself, Caspian had been falsely painted with austerity—a tool for the malevolent Mother to leverage. His entire existence had been a lie, his truth robbed from him in childhood. The captain who sat before me showcased that fact, and the goddess who wove through every drop of my lineage reiterated it.

Ellira hadn’t lied to me. She had been every gut feeling, whispered warning, and coaxing reassurance. The high regard with which she spoke of Caspian suggested only one thing—he was kind.

He was nowhere near as vile as Sorva forced him to be, nor was he the man who had greeted me in Darswyth. He was my soul tie. My other half. My Mizani. A man granted the blessing of my mother, the Goddess of the Sea, to cradle me in ways I’d yearned to be, and I’d only crested the surface of all he was.

The soft brush of fingertips drew me back from where I’d wandered. Attention shifting, I watched as Caspian stroked across my wrist with gentle diligence. It was a display that he was present, but wouldn’t push me to engage with him if I didn’t wish to.

“Is this too much?” he whispered, his touch briefly stalling.

I shook my head. “No, I… Sorry. I’m just not used to…”

“I know.” His lips curled into a saddened smile. “I’m sure it doesn’t help that I haven’t been the kindest to you either.”

My chin lifted to meet his crimson gaze. “That wasn’t your fault, Caspian. Sorva… She⁠—”

“It isn’t an excuse,” he interrupted. “Whether the pawn in her game or the main character in her twisted tale, it is still my voice that carried those insults. Just as it is still my hands that inflicted even the smallest bruise or mark.”

“You act as if I have not harmed you!” The sharp uptick in my cadence caught me off guard, but I continued, “For the gods’ sakes, Caspian, how many scars litter your body because of me? How much grief consumes you at night and robs you of rest because I butchered your crew?”

Caspian sighed before his caress shifted to my collarbone. Tracing raised skin, he looked up at me, his expression somber. “This is only one mark you bear because of me, and for each of them, I would take a hundred lashings if it meant ridding you of my misdirected wrath. If I could cleanse my name of your essence and absolve you of the anguish I inflicted, then I would gift my soul to Sorva time and time again, for you are far too precious a jewel, Rohen Levitte.”

Not an ounce of malice or mockery clung to his timbre, and his stare never wavered because he meant every fucking word. It became clear as his crimson irises flared that, if there were any chance he could strip my mind of our opposition or heal the pieces of me even he didn’t break, he would sacrifice himself to do so.

Emotion welled with the realization, and I pushed myself from where I sat. Leaning over his desk, I cupped his face with a gentleness I questioned was possible for a woman as broken as me. A woman for whom he hadn’t hesitated to jump overboard for, regardless of his inability to swim. A woman whom he had cradled far more than any man had in only a matter of days.

A watery sheen blanketed my vision and, for the first time in years, I did not turn away but let the tears fall. “I would not allow you to commit such atrocities, because doing so would require me to forget you, and that is the gravest nightmare anyone could grant me.” I stroked my thumb along the length of his jaw, offering him the same attentiveness he had gifted me. “You are a treasure, Caspian Vayne. My treasure. And I am so fucking sorry that Sorva has manipulated and puppeted you to a point where you no longer see your insurmountable value, for there is no gold or coin capable of outshining your essence.”

Caspian huffed, not in disbelief or annoyance, but in feeling. “Gods, of course you’re just as breathtaking when you cry.”

Not offering me the chance to rebut, he moved from where he sat. The wood separating us became a distant memory as he rounded its edge before coming to stand beside me. With one tug, he turned the chair I occupied to face him and, without missing a beat, stepped between my thighs before sinking down on one knee.

“What…” I swallowed, the waver in my voice indicative of the wall he’d broken through. “W-What are you doing?”

“Granting you a moment to release everything you’ve harbored for far too long. Let this be a display of my devotion and my resounding promise to be your shield when the battle of life becomes too much, your landing place when overwhelming grief begins to rob you of your senses, and your protector in the face of fear, hardship, or fractured resolve.” Planting both palms just above my knees, his touch did not shift or wander as it had with men in the past. “You are safe here with me, Ro, for my heart longs for you in a way I cannot describe. Free of judgment, and free of ridicule, there is nothing more I wish than to cradle you while you unshackle yourself from the burdens of your past.”

A stifled cry spilled from my wavering lips, and as the mask I’d worn for decades crumbled from my face, I dove into his embrace.

His arms wasted no time encircling me as he pulled me against him. Consumed by his scent—dark rum, sea salt, and a hint of sandalwood—I devoured every drop I could as I buried my face in his neck. With his presence as my grounding cord and his hand settling on the back of my head, I fully sank into him. As the entirety of all I was collapsed in his hold, his strength did not falter. If anything, it solidified.

“I’m right here, darling.” Lips trailing over my ear, he planted a gentle kiss on the side of my head. “No matter the tumultuous storm or battle ahead, I’ve got you, Ro. I’ll always have you.”

Fingers balling the light fabric of his linen shirt, I curled in on myself in the sanctity of his embrace, recognition flooding me.