Page 55 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
It’s fun to pretend with him.Pretend that we’re alive.
And while I’m pretending, I’ve decided to face my fear of the ocean. A little late, I know. But if not now, then when? It’s not like there’s anything actually to fear anymore. Phantoms are immune to pain and death, so why do I still hesitate?
I don’t bother looking to see if Lanston is watching as I let the soft fabric of my dress slip over my shoulders and pool at my feet. I lift one foot and then the other, slowly stepping closer to the edge.
My feet shift nervously on the bow of the boat, and then I dive in head-first. My fears are thrown to the wind, and my bare skin is vulnerable to the world.
The water’s bright surface breaks as it swallows me whole. My body is consumed by the cold, salty water. I’m half tempted to try inhaling it just to see if I can breathe underwater, but I think better of it. Even as a phantom, it doesn’t sound so pleasant.
As my eyes open, my mouth pinches with terror. The vastness of the sea is daunting, stretching as far as I can see—deep blue hues and darker as the depths go. Chills crawl up my spine, thinking of everything the sea takes.
I swim to the surface and inhale the brisk spring air. Lanston leans over the railing, his forearms spread along the metal, his hands hanging limply.
He’s watching me intently. Feverishly.
His eyes draw fire on my skin, lines that will never fade until he smooths them over with his hands. I become aware of my bare chest and fight the urge to cover myself with my arms. I want him to see me. In the daylight and not just in the dimness of the night.
I avert my eyes and take a deep breath, dipping below the surface once more. My purple hair comes to life with the water and swirls around me.
Lanston.
He consumes my every thought, every breath. Even when we’re talking or eating or on the nights he falls asleep before I do, I think of him. While his lashes hide his alluring eyes, and he thinks perhaps of books or the drawings that stain his fingertips black, I think of him.
I feel foolish for it.
You’re a bad person—undeserving of a man like him.
My teeth grit together at the words I’ve heard my entire life. They are irrefutable. I don’t want someone as lovely and pure as Lanston to get caught in my gravity of darkness. And yet, as much as I wish to keep him safe from me, I cannot let him go. I’ll stay as long as he’ll allow.
I open my eyes under water and suddenly find his hazel ones boring into me like anchors, wrapping around my soul and wishing to remain here with me in the heart of the ocean.
Beneath the world, beneath the universe and the stars, it’s just us here.
No words to be spoken or places to hide.
Only us.
He lifts his hand to my face and brushes his thumb over the length of my jaw. His other hand hooks around my waist and pulls me closer until our bare skin is pressed against one another. The hard plane of his stomach makes me swallow and the evidence of his desire for me is nestled between my thighs.
I tilt my jaw up to look at him, finding the eyes of a beautiful, yearning soul. I wonder if he sees the same anguish in mine.
His grip on my lower back tightens, but he doesn’t move; he just stares at me. Waiting. Watching. Starved for me.
Chills spread up my arms. A thousand reasons why I shouldn’t kiss him again race through my mind, but one separate thought is much,muchlouder.
Hold me—kiss me.
Love me.
Our jaws clench simultaneously, and as I reach up with both hands to clasp his face, he pulls in for the fatal embrace. He kisses me hard, not soft and caressing as all the other times had been, but the surprise only adds to the delight that spreads through my flesh. Our hearts are desperate for each other, aching and beating to an erratic tune of carnal desire.
We part, blinking in a daze before realizing we’re still underwater. I head to the surface first, pushing carefully away from his chest, and he follows.
Once our heads breach the surface, we connect again. Our lips crash together, this time more viciously. I can smell his charcoal pencils, coffee and pages as I run my fingers through his wet hair.
“Ophelia,” he whispers my name on a breath. It is so languid and raspy that it makes my core ache. Any and all thoughts are distant now. He stole them the moment he touched me.
“Yes?” I breathe against his lips. He leans away and presses his forehead to mine. Our limbs tangle as we bob in the water rhythmically with the waves.
