Page 91 of Crossbones
I haul the wheel to the right to avoid the churning of a breaker over shallower water. A wave crashes over the deck, sending cold spray showering over me. But even with the bite of the icy storm, I’m sweating, gripping the helm with everything I have. I feel a grating sensation vibrate up through my feet.
“Hard to starboard! Don’t let ‘er ground!”
We list even harder to the right and the ship lurches, heeling—I know the minute it’s too much—fuck—the wind has the foresail—
The man at the fore halyard makes eye contact with me. “Let it go!” I bark.
He immediately releases the rope, easing the pressure and sending us shooting back even keel. It’s nearly comical how it feels like we fly out of the Straights but the minute we’re over deeper water, I feel theTempestsettle. The winds calm, and the sea grows glassy once more as the clouds dissipate like they were never there.
Harrison jogs down to the main deck. “Sound off!”
I hand the helm over to Van and grab Flynt. “Walk the deck—check the rudder, make sure she isn’t loose. Let me know if the Kraken damaged anything.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Welcome to the Stormwrack, boys!” Harrison shouts.
A shout goes up from the crew but I’m already sweeping the deck for Caspian. When I don’t see him, I head below, intent on finding him. I bark a few additional orders on the way, thankful when the silence of the corridor envelopes me. We’re out of the Straights and I’m exhausted.
Caspian is in my cabin, stripping off wet clothing. He must have just gotten here. We stare at each other, and I nod to his stomach where the outline of a tentacle stretches across his ribs. It’s quickly turning into a nasty bruise—each suction cup outlined in stark detail against his skin.
“Fast thinking with the arrows,” I rasp, my voice is nearly gone.
I pour a quick finger of rum and down it, helping to ease my raw throat. I hand Caspian one as I move over to my wardrobe and peel off my jacket and my shirt, wincing as my ribs twinge. Hands come around to encircle my waist, the warmth of him so alluring I can’t help but lean back slightly.
“Your voice is sexy like that,” he murmurs in my ear.
I turn into him and see his eyes go to a matching tentacle imprint across my chest. His finger traces it and my breath catches but not from pain.
“Are your ribs okay?” He asks.
“Probably need to be wrapped,” I admit. “But I’ll live. What about you? It hit you pretty good.”
He huffs a laugh and runs his hands up over my chest.
“Knocked the breath out of me, that’s all.”
I undo the laces of his pants but they’re so wet it’s a struggle to push them off.
“I don’t know if I have the energy for anything right now,” I admit.
“That’s why we’re just going to sleep,” Caspian says.
We remove the rest of each other's clothes and I get stiffly into bed. I lay on my back, suddenly aware this is the first time we’ve been in bed together without having had sex first. As always, he can read me like a book and notices my stiffness. He tries to prop himself up on an elbow and winces as it puts pressure on his ribs but he grips my jaw and pulls my mouth over to his.
“Don’t you dare overthink this, James,” he rumbles.
Sealing his lips over mine, his kiss is full but he doesn’t make a move to deepen it. I return the kiss, the need for him pulling at me even through my exhaustion. It’s over way too soon as Caspian lays back down and closes his eyes. A sigh leaves him as he settles, the lines of his face easing as he relaxes.
I mirror him, laying on my back and staring at the ceiling. His presence is visceral, the heat of him pressing in on me even though we’re not touching. My fingers twitch, and move the inch it takes to brush against where his lay between us. An inch more and my hand slips into his, our fingers twine together. The action is both subtle and monumental all at the same time. The depth of intimacy in such a simple connection makes me want to hold on and never let go. A fact that should scare me, but instead sends a thrill through our connection. This moment right here is everything I never knew I needed—the calm of being known, and the comfort in knowing this is enough. He smiles without opening his eyes and my own drift shut, the image of his dimples following me into my dreams.
I’m awoken suddenly by Caspian’s nightmare. He’s thrashing in bed and muttering. I turn towards him, shoving myself up on an elbow. I watch him battle the demons taking over his mind, and feel his agony like daggers being driven into my chest. Seeing him like this makes his vulnerability tangible and I don’t mean weakness—it makes him real. It makes him like me—a man with shadows deep enough to drown in, and dangerous enough to kill. I know what he’s going through and I want to protect him, even if it’s from himself.
“Caspian—” I firmly take his hand in mine. “Caspian, wake up.”
It takes a bit of shaking and quiet coaxing before his eyes open. They’re wild—his chest heaving until reality solidifies and he sees it’s me. He sags against me, his forehead presses against my shoulder. I can’t stop my other hand from raking through his hair. Once, twice—until his shaking subsidesand he takes a deep breath. Lifting his head his eyes latch onto mine.
We don’t speak. The raw emotion in his gaze cuts through my soul. I close the few inches separating us and our lips meet with a fire that envelopes us completely. It burns through my veins until there’s no thoughts in my mind except for him. Our bodies slide together effortlessly, harsh muscles bunching beneath my hands that are everywhere—I can’t seem to touch him enough, pull him close enough.
