Page 34 of The Withering Dawn
“You were meant to take the bed,” he whispered.
“I am used to a floor.”
“Hmm. That was not the point.” He sighed, adjusting his position a bit. “You spoke with Cathal for a long time.”
“I was learning about you and your crew.”
“Were you? And what did you learn?”
“I learned that you could have so easily become a villain and instead you are this. Kind beneath the ruggedness and the scars.”
“Do not think me righteous. I am a villain to plentyof people.”
“Not to me.”
As the ship rocked on the gentle tide, the window let in a stream of blue moonlight that swept across Nazario’s face, lighting up his earthy eyes.
“Have mercy, Aeris. You are beautiful,” he said as if seeing my face for the first time.
“What if it is what I am that makes you say that? Perhaps I am seducing you and I do not know it.”
The thought was perhaps more unsettling than it should have been, but I found myself feeling disappointed over the idea that Nazario’s feelings could never be genuine.
I wished I understood myself better. I would have needed a mother for that. A skryll of sirens like me. Anything.
But I never had any of those things.
“I am deeply sorry for what Antonio did to you,” I said, wanting to tell him something meaningful in case he was soon to come to his senses. “You came to my rescue even if you did not mean to. I wish to help you get the vengeance you and your crew have been seeking.”
“Is that all?” he said with a hint of playfulness dancing across his eyes. “If you were to die tomorrow, would there be nothing else you want?”
“Am I dying tomorrow?”
“We are always dying tomorrow, muñequita. We all…”
I stared at his lips moving but could hardly hear the words coming out of him anymore. I knew he was saying things that were profound and worth my attention, but urges I’d never experienced made it hard to listen. I breathed him in, savoring the subtle scent of him, and felt my core swell with heat.
I knew what I wanted.
I wanted him.
Even if he denied it, I could see his truest form and he was a good man. No matter what bad deeds he might have done in his past, he was good. His core was good and I longed for a taste of that.
“Touch me,” I said, my cheeks instantly growing hot at my own words.
He stopped talking and turned to me as if my words had not quite gotten to him.
“What?” he asked.
“If I am to die tomorrow, I wish for you to touch me.”
“You have not known any man’s touch to be pleasant. Why would you want to be touched by one?”
“I don’t want to be touched by any man. I want to be touched by you.”
“You know what you are asking, yes?”
“Yes.”
