Page 62 of What Doesn't Kill Us

“You taste like the ocean.”

She laughs breathlessly. “Well, that makes sense, since I literally just climbed out of it.”

“How did you get here?” I ask, pulling her back into me, burying my face in her cold, salty hair.

“I swam.”

My eyes widen, and I freeze for a moment before jerking away from her. I stare at her face, frowning as I ask, “You swam here?”

She nods. “Yes, they dumped me off a few miles out, and I swam toward the dot until I intercepted you.”

“Swam toward the dot?”

“Well yes. Though I suppose it was a bit more complicated than that,” she says with a shrug, seemingly unconcerned.

My blood pressure increases significantly at her nonchalant delivery. “A bit more complicated? You somehow boarded a moving ship in the middle of the goddamn night, and all you can say is it was complicated?”

She opens her mouth to speak, then snaps her mouth shut as she gives me a look over. Her lips purse, and she squints at me, then replies, “I don’t see any point in going into the finer details right now in the middle of our grand reunion and all, but apparently, you’d rather have a pissing contest about something you can’t change.”

My hands tighten on her arms, and I shake her. “What the fuck were you thinking, putting yourself in danger like that?”

Her eyes narrow, and she releases her hold on me, then steps backward, yanking her arms from my grasp. “Excuse me? What was I thinking?”

I know I should probably shut my mouth, but I’m livid and completely appalled that they dropped her into the middle of the ocean and tasked with swimming until she either found the ship I’m on or perished. “Yes, what the fuck were you thinking? Or were you thinking? Obviously, you must not have been, because that is the most preposterous, insane idea I’ve ever heard.”

“You don’t say,” she says blandly, her arms crossing over her chest.

“You may not put your life in danger under any circumstances, for any reason. It is not allowed.”

She gapes at me for a moment, and then her jaw snaps shut. She glares at me and gives me a big shove backwards, which only moves me a couple of inches. And then she says, “Allowed? I’m not fucking allowed?”

I lean my body in closer until my face is barely an inch from hers and whisper, “That’s right. You’re not fucking allowed.”

She blinks at me a few times as my words sink in, and then she laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs until tears are streaming down her face. I raise my hands to my hips. “What could possibly be so funny?”

She points at me, then says through her laughter, “You’re funny. Fucking delusional, but funny.”

That’s when it occurs to me. There’s something different about her. Not just the fact that she swam miles in the ocean to get to me, but the way she carries herself, the way she’s speaking. The way she looks at me with such belligerent warmth.

Suddenly, the weight on my chest triples, my breath catching in my throat. I push my body closer to her until she’s forced to stand upright, and I have her body pressed back against the door. My hands come up, once again gripping the sides of her head, keeping her in place as I stare into her eyes.

She sobers, her laughter slowly dying off until she’s staring back at me with a somewhat evil grin on her face. I lean closer and whisper, “Antoinette?”

Her eyes widen a little, and she replies, “Darius?”

“It’s you. You’re you. You’re back.” I’m babbling now, and she gives me a rather peculiar look; her hands come up and grasp my wrists as she leans forward, her nose brushing along my cheek.

I feel her breath on the corner of my mouth as she whispers, “It’s me. I’m me. I’m here.”

If any breath could escape my lungs, it would’ve come out as a sob. If there ever was a moment in my entire adult life where I might cry like a baby, this would be it. And even knowing I rarely allow myself the luxury of tears doesn’t stop that distinct burning behind my eyes, and soon, I feel the hot slide of a tear trailing down the skin of my cheek. Then I feel her tongue there, and she laps it up with a low chuckle. “Did I finally break the Beast? You poor thing.”

I do laugh this time, though it comes out watery. I drop my hands from her face, wrapping my arms around her back and pulling her into my chest. I press my face into her neck, my teeth once again sinking in until she flinches. I don’t want to hurt her, but I have this distinct need inside to mark her again, to mark her permanently, so no one will ever question who she belongs to.

She must sense my sudden change in demeanor and feel the shift in my immediate desire because she wraps her arms around my shoulders, and I heft her up, pulling her thighs up and around me. I squeeze her ass in both my hands, suddenly very aware that she’s not fully clothed. “Where the fuck are your pants?”

She’s licking and nibbling on my neck and then up to my ear. “I was in the middle of changing when I saw you. I figured it was easier to follow you without pants than try to figure out where you went after I dressed myself.” She pulls back, her eyes meeting mine as she asks, “How is it you’re roaming around freely? Aren’t you a prisoner?”

I lean into her and groan against her lips as I mutter, “It’s a long story. I’ll have to tell you later.” I kiss her neck, nuzzling her ear, and she rocks against me, so I ask, “Is that an invitation?”

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