Page 82 of The Forgotten Queen
Sydria smiled as she watched him dance with the water. She’d never seen anything so beautiful—well, in the three months that she could remember. He moved and bent as if he had some kind of control over the water, as if the ocean wasn’t bigger than him. She’d never been more physically attracted to a man in her entire life. There was something sexy about Marx surfing, curving through the cresting tunnel. His long hair fell over his face, glowing in the sunlight, and his muscles popped and moved with each bend of his body. Sydria couldn’t have looked away even if she’d wanted to.
As the wave fizzled out, Marx tilted the board, sending a spray through the air. Slowly, the board sank, dropping him into the water. The wave brought him closer to the shore, and he turned and looked at Sydria. She clapped her hands above her head, letting him know she’d seen his ride.
“Are you impressed?” he yelled to her.
“I suppose.” She shrugged with fake indifference.
His grin widened as he floated with his board. “I guess I’ll have to do it again, and better.”
She laughed, not complaining one bit. She could watch Marx surf on repeat for the rest of her life.
He flipped his head behind him, looking for his friends. The others around him who had gone after the same wave hadn’t had as much luck—or perhaps it was skill. Either the wave had passed them by, leaving them behind, or it had crushed them, tipping their boards over and sinking them into the water.
For the next hour, Sydria leaned back on her hands, watching as each person attempted to ride the waves like Marx had. Kase had one good ride, and so did Warren. Dannyn also caught a little wave before the nose of her board dipped in the water and tipped her over the front. But the majority of the group could not get up. She watched, comparing their movements to what Marx did. They were either too far in front of the wave, riding the white foam, or too far outside, missing it altogether.
Then Sydria remembered Marx’s words.
It’s all about timing.
Some of the women walked back to the beach, toting their boards with them.
Cheney’s loud voice carried over the others. “Surfing is a lot harder than it looks. I’m not sure if women were built for an activity like this.”
“Actually, there were professional female surfers before Desolation,” Dannyn said.
“True. If anyone can do it, I’m sure I can.” Cheney tilted her head, looking directly at Sydria. “I’ll have to ask Marx for some private one-on-one lessons.” The look on her face suggested she hoped for more than surfing lessons.
Sydria had had enough. Cheney was awful, and she wasn’t going to be bullied by her any longer. She stood, and the women all turned their heads to her. She walked toward them, grabbing Cheney’s board out from under her arm.
“What are you doing?” Cheney sneered. “You won’t be able to get up.”
“It’s all about timing,” Sydria said, walking to the water.
She was probably crazy.
Yes, she was most definitely crazy.
She wasn’t even sure she knew how to swim, let alone surf, but Dannyn had said that if she wanted people to respect her, she had to do something they would respect. She stopped right before the water, dropped the board, and began pulling her dress up.
Marx
Marx sat on his board, searching behind him for his next wave.
“Is that yourwife?” Kase called out to him. He looked at his friend, following his gaze to the shore, catching the last few moments of Sydria raising her pink dress over her head.
Marx’s eyes widened as they slowly swept up her legs to her fitted swim garment—little was left to his imagination. His lips parted as Sydria lifted her chin, closing her eyes slightly. Both of her hands went behind her neck, twisting her black hair into a knot on top of her head.
Everything happened in real-time, but for some reason, Marx felt like time had stalled. His heart thudded to a slow drum as he drank her in. He would never be able tounseethis moment. It was like he was in the middle of a memory game, and he was definitely winning. His brain soaked in every detail of her, memorizing every inch.
“Watch out!” Warren called behind him, but it was too late.
A wall of water crashed over Marx, sending him flying forward. His board flew out from under him, hitting him in the head as his body was pushed under the surface. The water spun him around, swirling him in the undertow.
He probably deserved to get taken out by the wave because, at that moment, Marx needed something to bring him back to reality.
Sydria
Sydria slid her stomach on top of the boardlike she’d seen everyone else do. Her arms stroked through the water, moving her out to the waves. There was a good chance she would die out there. Marx had been taken out by a huge wave, and he was experienced. She could only imagine what would happen to her. She’d survived a carriage accident, butsurfing…surfing would be the end of her.
