Page 28 of Waves
His grin became predatory a second before his lips were on mine, hot and demanding. The hand near my jaw moved to my neck and his fingers gently encircled my throat, squeezing lightly. Something about that motion, about that hint of a threat, thrilled me and I pressed my body into his. My hands reached up, knocking back his cloak as I buried my fingers in his hair, yanking at the roots.
“See? You won’t cut me.” His arrogance was as smooth as mulled wine, sweet and warm in its delivery. And he followed it with a kiss to my neck that made me drunk.
“And why won’t I?” I forced my face to remain indifferent, but it was a close thing.
“Because you’ve got plenty of sweet men surrounding you. Good upstanding young men, honorable old soldiers. But what you’ve got and what you want are very different.”
“What I want?” I shouldn’t have asked. I knew better but he was too good at stoking a response in me.
Valdez’s fire-red eyes met mine once again and truth seemed to flare from them as he said, “You want someone who’s a little bit bad. Just like you.”
Chapter 12
Avia
Staring down at a ritual as an outsider was a fascinating experience. It made you appreciate the beauty of a tradition, the elegance of it. You could even see the reverent emotions rising off people like sparkling wisps of steam. But you didn't quite feel what they did, didn't have the connection that they did, and you ended up...wanting.
I watched the people of Kremos paint the names of those who've passed onto empty shells and then, one by one, swam to place that shell name-down in the sand and cover it. Almost like it was a second burial ritual. Almost as if they thought the soul existed in the name and the name had to be buried too. Most people arose with tears running down their cheeks, emotion changing the flavor of the current around us.
The need for more pulsed inside my chest as a sense of lonely solitude washed over me. This despondent sense that I'd never quite be a part of anything, including this.
It was a ridiculous feeling because Valdez had my hand clutched tightly in his, Mateo and Felipe hovered nearby, and I'd always have my sister.
But my eyes rose and met Stavros's. He was floating apart from the rest of the group, a conch shell collar spiraling uparound his face, which was painted black. The rest of his body was draped in shadowy clothing, giving the illusion of an empty shell, except for those liquid blue eyes. Eyes that were the color of crystallized melancholy. Something in his expression bowled me over because it looked as though he was feeling the exact same way I was.
Or...were his emotions overflowing into me?
Was I right about his power?
Excitement trickled through me even as I pitied the way he felt so alone.
I was right. I'm sure of it. I’m not sure that I shouldn't check, though.
Giving Valdez's hand a squeeze, I pulled back, whispering, "I'll be right back. I need to go speak to Stavros." I swam off quickly, before the pirate could protest or charm me into staying.
The siren appeared slightly startled when I settled in next to him, and plain shocked when I took his hand. "It can be hard to watch," I nodded toward the line of shells, which had started to stretch off into the shadows. Kremos had clearly had a bad year.
"Many things are hard to watch," Stavros said stiffly.
"Well, you don't have to watch them alone anymore." Squeezing his fingers, I snuck closer to him until my head was close enough to lean against his arm. My heart began to pound, and a crackling energy spangled and danced inside my chest even as my lungs froze and I forgot to breathe. Overwhelming. It was utterly overwhelming.
With a jerk, Stavros pulled away from me. "I'm sorry. I have to—I have to go."
Like an onyx bolt of lightning, he sped away in a flash, ripping away all of the emotions sizzling through my torso. I stared after him as he lost himself in the crowd and Mateo clumsily swam closer. My closest friend and first love asked, "Is everything alright?"
Certainty flooded me then. The certainty that I would be including Stavros in my entourage, the certainty that I needed to rig these games to get him through it. The certainty that I needed to seduce him slowly and carefully so that he flew right into my trap like a bug into a spider's web.
“Yes,” I told Mateo, and my answer was almost true. Almost, but not quite. Because as these games continued, I was learning my dark side was much vaster and more ruthless than I’d believed.
The solemnityof soul-burying was followed by a drunken feast full of wild song. Instead of pouring bubble into cups, the local mage created a river of alcohol, a flowing, winding, sentient trail of cherry red running between people's legs and spiraling up around their arms, teasing them—making them lean and reach, lips pursing to drink before it darts away, forcing them to give chase. When people did catch it, they dunked their entire heads in, as if that would get them drunk faster. Perhaps it did, since it was magic.
I did sip at the ribbon of bubble, but only sip. I was far too aware of everyone’s eyes drifting over to me, making an evaluation. A group of squi-shifters and shark shifters huddled toward the opposite side of the celebration kept stirring up an uneasy feeling in my gut. My hand went to my stomach, trying to contain the eel whipping back and forth internally. Even though Kremos initially felt far-removed from the politics that plagued Palati, complacence was certainly a mistake. Attacks were mounting faster than I'd ever thought possible. Faster than I could topple or even prepare for them.
How would I ever prove to these people that I’d make a good monarch?
Sahar immediately found me and looped her arm through mine, though she had to beat back her cloak a bit to do so. “What did you think?” she asked.
“Beautiful ceremony. But my mind is already digging back into our problems. How do I get people to believe I shouldn’t join the banished?” How did I get myself to believe it when I was already learning to accept the fact that Watkins and Stavros would be sacrificed for the greater good?
