Page 22 of A Promise so Bold and Broken

It appeared to be a small village or formation of houses, although she couldn’t be too certain, as they must be a mile or perhaps even more away.

Another choked sound broke the soft rustling of the wind, and she tore her gaze away from the rhythmic swaying of greenery.

Her eyes locked on Ardow’s where he stood next to Venko a few yards up the beach.

Both men were drenched, but their clothing was intact, and while Venko’s hands shook by his sides, he offered her a relieved smile when his blue eyes landed on hers.

As she confirmed neither seemed harmed—or at least no more wounded than they had been on the ship—her skin tingled from the seething presence behind her.

When she turned around to face Merrick again, it was all she could do not to cower under the glare he shot her.

The Fae’s muscles were taut under the dark tunic sticking to his body, his pearly hair plastered around his raging face, and the lethal humming in his chest told her he was struggling not to yell at her again.

An urge to stick her tongue out at him rose within her—to replace that sour expression with a surprised one—but she forced it down. Instead, Lessia clenched her fists and asked roughly, “What happened?”

Merrick’s nostrils flared as he stepped toward her and shoved her daggers into her hands. “Why did you swim downward, Lessia? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the shiny blades, at how the rubies and the amber stones mockingly glowed at her in the bright sunlight.

Lifting her slitted eyes to Merrick’s burning ones, she snarled, “Of course I wasn’t!”

Merrick stepped into her space, nearly fusing their wet bodies, and she had to bend her neck back to keep meeting his gaze.

“That was truly stupid,” he said in that lethally low voice that always sent a shiver down her spine.

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he kept her eyes hostage, and she ground her teeth when another wave of anger roiled inside her.

She wanted to punch that stupidly chiseled jaw.

Perhaps leave him with a black eye to match the night-sky shade of his livid eyes.

It wasn’t like she’d seen much when she dove into the water.

How could she have known the wyvern would dive too?

Merrick continued to glower at her, his broad chest heaving so close to hers that tiny droplets of water landed on her bare skin.

“There could have been more of them,” Merrick hissed. “Wyverns like to swim in the depths of the sea. Everyone knows this!”

Not everyone, apparently.

Lessia tightened her grip on the daggers, wondering if lodging one in Merrick’s gut would be worthwhile.

But when his eyes flicked down to her hand for a moment before returning to hers, and he arched a brow, she groaned.

She almost wished he still couldn’t look at her—couldn’t stand the unnerving scrutiny of his gaze, the reflections of understanding whenever she shifted an inch before him.

When she thought she’d combust from the tension, she snapped her gaze to the sand and grumbled, “Perhaps I am stupid, then!”

A growl roared through Merrick, so loud it felt as if the beach should shift with it. “Perhaps you are! Do you know what it was like, watching that beast carry you up from the sea? We thought it had chewed you up and decided to taunt us with your dead body!”

Lessia stiffened when his hand landed on her shoulder.

But he didn’t throw her down the way he liked to in the training ring, as she’d expected.

Instead, Merrick slammed her into his chest, his arms enveloping her as he crushed her against him.

His heart raced against her body, thrumming through her, and another low sound rumbled in his chest as her body relaxed against his.

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