Page 109 of Crossbones
Instead, I shove my hands through his hair, studying every line of hisface. I kiss along his jaw, down his neck, nipping his collarbone. I move lower, dragging his nipple between my teeth, watching his skin pebble, filing away every hitch of breath in case this is the last time I get to hear it.
I kiss the raised scar along his neck and he shivers, a soft exhale, his hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. I kiss another scar, and another, my fingers following the ones my lips can’t. I want to worship him so he remembers what it’s like to feel revered.
“Caspian.”
He says my name like a prayer. It drags across my skin, both the blade and the balm. When he can’t take my touch anymore, he pulls me to the bed. Climbing over me, he kisses down my chest, trailing my own scars and mapping his own memories. I see him linger along the scar on my side, his finger traces it before his tongue does and I shiver—both from his touch and the memory of him stitching that very wound.
When we can’t possibly take any more, where there’s nothing left to chart, nothing left to touch—we come together with a fierceness laced with possession. Both of us trying to tell the other what we can’t seem to put into words.
Every glance is a question. Every kiss is an answer.
We spend the next several hours lost in each other, trying to figure it all out and when at last, the knock on the door comes with the message that night has fallen and the Straights are in sight, we leave the cabin with aching hearts and an intense foreboding of the yawning future before us.
CASPIAN
There were in fact no ships waiting for us outside the Straights. Or at least, not any we could see in the pitch black of the night. Even so, the journey back to Foxhollow was not easy. It stormed almost everyday, supplies ran dangerously short and by the time we could see Foxhollow’s shoreline on the horizon, the morale on the ship was terrifyingly low.
Even though I know logically we need to make port, for the first time I dread the sight of Foxhollow off our bow because it means Blackwell and I are going to have to confront each other about the future, and I’m terrified he’s going to freak out when the truth is revealed—
My thoughts get interrupted as I squint at the town in the distance. There’s none of the usual activity and it’s silent. The docks sit dark and void of any townsfolk.
“Something is wrong.” I mutter.
Blackwell is standing next to me, frowning when he notices it too.
“Turn her towards the open ocean. Do not hesitate to run.”
“What’s wrong?” Harrison asks.
I look out at the dark buildings with concern and shake my head. Even in the evenings, this area is usually bustling with nighttime revelry and the occasional stumbling drunk. Instead it’s eerily quiet and deserted.
Blackwell and I take the rowboat to shore, and he follows as I walk up the beach towards the town.
Where is everyone?Nerves clutch me and I’m about to turn to tell Blackwell to head to his sister’s house when De’Vero soldiers materialize out of the shadows and surround us. Before eitherof us can make a move towards our weapons, I feel the press of a pistol against my temple.
“Ah, the men of the hour. It’s about time you two arrived.”
My dread escalates as I watch Aldric step through the mass of De’Vero colors to stand before me, a triumphant look on his face.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
Aldric looks at me in amusement. “Please, don’t insult my intelligence, brother—you know why I’m here.”
“What is he talking about, Caspian?” Blackwell growls beside me and I realize how this must look, how Aldric is making this look. Aldric glances between the two of us in amusement.
“Ah, Caspian, always the manipulator—I have to commend you for this one though, a master performance.” He nods towards Blackwell. “Take him away, I need to talk to my brother—alone.”
The guards escort me behind Aldric into a nearby tavern on the quay. The place is empty and the soldiers space out around the room and at the entrance. Aldric sits down at a table and gestures to the seat across from him. I shake my head but two guards force me down into the chair, standing at my back with pistols ready.
“What do you want, Aldric?”
He looks me up and down, lounging back in the chair with a smug glimmer in his eyes.
“It’sKingAldric now, Cas,” he says. “Father’s dead.”
The news should make me sad, but I can’t even find it in me to feel anything but relief at his passing. Maybe once he’d been someone I would have mourned, but that was a long time ago.
“Congratulations,” I say sarcastically.
