Page 30 of Swept By The Alien Pirate Prince

“I woke up and you weren’t in the cabin,” I explained. “So, when I opened the door, I spotted you over here.”

Cyburn glanced at me before focusing his attention on the sea. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“How long have you been out here?”

“Maybe an hour. Two at most.”

You started drinking early, I see.

I thought the words, but I was careful not to let them slip from my tongue.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

A nervous churning brewed in my stomach, not far off from what I’d experienced during our rocky ocean landing last night.

“It’s fine.” Cyburn’s jaw set tight, and he glanced at the sand, unwilling, or unable to make eye contact with me.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked, already seeing that communication with Cyburn was going to be a problem.

As grateful as I was to be on solid ground, I was unfamiliar with these surroundings. I didn’t know the locals or what their opinions on humans were, and I was still worried about another spontaneous ambush from our Belic enemies.

Cyburn lifted the rim of the glass to his lips. He tilted his head back and washed the remaining amber liquid down his throat.

When he finished, he took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” I gawked.

My eyes lifted to his. I was baffled. Cyburn was our commander, and he was on the brink of an emotional collapse.

I needed to intervene to help him before he unraveled, but I didn’t know how to do it without making it seem like I was overstepping my boundaries.

Cyburn finally moved his eyes in my direction. Although the eye contact was brief, at least he’d made the effort. I still experienced that intimate warmth that saturated my bones every time his fierce black eyes met with mine.

“I can’t think straight right now.”

There was a vulnerability in his voice that made my heart hurt for him. Maybe I should cut him some slack. Times were stressful and most of the responsibility fell to him.

“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry I’m not trying to pressure you. I know this is hard for you to deal with.”

I thought that he would approach me, wrap his arms around me and hug me close to his muscular, warm chest after I said those soothing words. It would have been the emotional therapy I needed.

However, Cyburn didn’t take even a singlestepin my direction. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

“If you’re hungry, breakfast is over there.”

My eyes followed where he pointed, finding the same woman with the black turban headpiece still working on the fish platter.

“I’m okay for now,” I said, trying to swallow down the pain I felt from Cyburn’s detached neglect. He hadn’t even acknowledged what I’d said to him.

Was he still upset about the Amada situation? The last thing I wanted to do was bring her up again.

“I’m getting another drink,” Cyburn said without guilt.

My gut formed an angry fist, but I didn’t try to stop him. What would be the point, anyway? Cyburn was strong willed. When he was upset about something, he tended to do what he wanted, regardless of anyone’s advice.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” I said.

Cyburn nodded, his eyes distant.

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