Page 33 of The Withering Dawn
He frowned. “They punished ye if a man had impure thoughts?”
I nodded, the concept so familiar to me that his confusion was puzzling. I realized, however, that the island was far removed from the rest of the world. The cruelties were different.
“They said I was seducing them,” I explained. “I suppose it might be in my nature, but I’m incapable of keeping it at bay if it is.” I swept some breadcrumbs off my lap and turned to Cathal, whose brows were so furrowed, I feared it might leave permanent lines on his forehead. “Were you asked to watch over me?” I asked bluntly.
He shook the confusion from his face and cleared his throat. “Aye, I was. Don’t let it upset ye, though. We’re all a little rattled to have ye aboard in the first—”
“I’m not upset. Astonished, I suppose, that I am not behind bars. I didn’t mean to kill that man, you know. Rourk, I believe his name was. I don’t particularly like killing and I know he was a part of your crew. When he—”
“Ye don’t have to explain yourself. We were all there,” he smirked. “We saw him draw his pistol.” He paused for a moment, brushing his hair back again. “Saw you step in front of me and the Cap’n, too. What did ye think you were gonna do, little thing like ye?” he laughed.
His smile was contagious, but I kept my own at bay, unsure if amusement was the appropriate response.
“I wasn’t really thinking,” I finally said. “It’s just that you and the captain have been kind to me. Those men had not.”
I pulled my legs through the railing and hugged my knees to my chest, nervous that someone would put the blame for the three dead men on me. Even if no one was speaking up, I knew some of the other crewmen had been thinking about the incident.
The light was fading quickly now and the chill in the air was getting more prominent. After a stretch of silence, I found myself looking up at the helm again and found Nikolas taking Nazario’s place on the wheel. Nazario trudged down the steps like he had iron blocks tied to his feet, lazily pulling off his coat before he glanced up at me for a brief moment and politely inclined his head. But instead of walking our way, he retreated into the captain’s quarters and shut the door behind him. When Cathal heard it, he took a glance over his shoulder.
“Early night for him,” he said.
“Will Nikolas be alright?”
He laughed at my question. “That man would stand at that wheel for a week if he could.” Slapping his knees, he stood off the stool and stretched his arms back with a groan. “Time I got some rest, too. Tensions will be high as we close in on Dornwich. Hammocks below deck are full, by the way. And I doubt you’d want to sleep with us snoring men anyways.” He pointed over his shoulder at Nazario’s door, walking backwards as he talked. “So, if you want to sleep, it’s either in there with the cap’n or on the deck. Or, if yer feelin’ attached to the hold, you can go back to your cell. Either way, don’t eat anyone, yeah?”
The smirk on his face was suggestive, but I didn’t quite know how to respond. I wasn’t used to the casual manner in which he spoke to me nor was I accustomed to choosing where I slept. I watched him spin around and drag his tired feet below deck and then remained there, alone, listening to the howling breeze and the steady sounds of waves hitting the hull for hours. I wanted to spend a little more time in it, taking in every detail and smell. Craning my head back, I saw endless black littered with diamonds above me. I felt as if it was the first time I could look at the stars and enjoy them.
But soon, the inevitable sense of fatigue got its hands on me, too. I thought about curling up on the deck under the night sky. It was a little cold, but I was accustomed to the cold. And then I glimpsed Nazario’s doors and imagined his bed. The soft sheets.
The way he held me when the ship was cruelly jostling us about.
The warmth of his touch.
All things I longed for, even if I wasn’t supposed to.
I got to my feet, slowly walking toward his doors, and listened, wondering if he was lying awake inside or if he was asleep. Either way, I did want to see him. I reached down, pulling on the handle, and was delighted to find it unlocked.
Inside, the room was filled with Nazario’s very distinguishable scent. The scent of black tea, rum, and the crisp smell of air from the open ocean. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and found him sprawled on the floor next to the bed atop layers of blankets, one of which was draped haphazardly over his lower half. He had one hand tucked behind his head and his other on his stomach, relaxed over a thin, red-leather book. I could tell by the way his chest was moving that he was in a deep sleep, but there was something about his heartbeat that felt uneasy. Tense.
I closed the door behind me and moved further into the room, my steps light. When I reached his makeshift bed on the floor, I knelt on the edge of the blankets, leaning over him. He was strikingly handsome. I was certain what Cathal said about women flocking to him was not a lie, though I couldn’t quite understand his meaning when he said he had to pay whores double.
Past his beauty was a sea caught in a constant cyclone. I could feel it like the way air was charged after a lightening strike. His dreams were unsettled again.
I slowly laid down beside him, turning on my side. I didn’t want him to wake up. Everyone needed their sleep, but there was a part of me that did not like knowing the things he might be battling in his dream world. Like the night he slept outside my cell, there were horrors he could not escape when he closed his eyes.
I understood what that felt like and for some reason, I hated that Nazario, of all people, had grown so accustomed to the same struggle.
Impulsively, I reached out, lightly running my fingers over his tense brow. As I did, his forehead relaxed and I got some pleasure from that.
But then he stirred. Slowly, he turned his head to face me and I should have pulled away then, but I couldn’t. I was enamored by his face. I studied it in the dark, my fingers tracing the bridge of his nose and the curve of his lips. And where my fingers didn’t touch, I studied him with my eyes from his high cheekbones to his long lashes and the perfect way his facial hair accentuated his jaw. It was then that I saw his eyelids twitch and I paused. His drowsy gaze was fixed on mine, slowly taking in the sight of me next to him. He said nothing, which made me wonder if what I was doing was alright or if I’d crossed a boundary.
But no boundaries had been set.
Then, without a word, he leaned in, pressing his lips to mine.
I closed my eyes, a wonderfully warm shiver moving down my body like Nazario’s kiss had healed another unseen wound inside me. I kissed him back, cupping his cheek in my hand.
When he slowly pulled away, I felt as if I’d been fed a taste of ripe fruit only to have the rest of it taken from me before I could truly savor it. When he untucked his hand from under his head and gently took my chin in his fingers, a ripple of heat I had only ever felt around him stirred in my chest.
