Page 30 of Sustaining
Chaos notices the look and shifts until his chest brushes against Rime’s arm, pulling the man’s attention away from the reckless waves of the sea.
“Let’s go see if water women taste spongy like octopus or smooth like salmon,” Rime tells Chaos with a cruel smirk.
“Probably salmon.” Chaos gives a sincere nod like he’s considered this more than once in his life.
“You can’t eat them.” Insufferable little dragon taints, I swear. “You just can’t. They’re mermaids.” Kind of. Sort of.
“I won’t.” Rime’s features are vacant, but that wicked shine’s still there in his gaze. “Unless mermaids are as cruel as I’ve been told.”
He might as well have saidI make no promises. That’s what he just said to me.
Great. Just great.
* * *
It’s a romantic setting. Pushing water laps against the side of the freshly built ship; the moon is big and round in the twinkling night sky. Cold wind pulls at my long dark hair, settling a chill along my skin as I hug my arms to my chest. And that little move alone makes even more romance fall across our lives. Because strong arms wrap around me from behind.
“Kain told me to tell you this is a stupid idea, Low,” Chaos whispers affectionately along my neck. His lips graze there to the exposed skin, and despite how much tingling energy his lips against my body just pressed into me, I’m shaking my head at his words.
“Tell Kain he’s welcome to slip deep inside my thoughts again if he has something to say.” I smirk a little to myself, and Chaos hums a quiet laugh against my neck as he kisses there once more.
“He says last time he looked into your head there wasn’t a single thought that wasn’t complete smut, so maybe it’s best if he does all the thinking around here.”
Oh, for the love of arrogant dragon dick.
I turn in Chaos’ arms, and his big body surrounds me with warmth and protection. He’ll always keep me safe. I know without a doubt Chaos would never allow anything bad to happen to me. And I wouldn’t have come out here if I felt in danger.
Those kids were just that, kids. I’m an adult. I’m a mage. Water women are nothing to fear.
“I hear you can’t even tell directions. That easily makes me the captain.” Sinister glares hard at Rime, and the statement alone makes the most outraged expression I’ve ever seen pull across Rime’s features.
Oh, Sinister hit a nerve with that one.
“What the fuck! I can tell directions, asshole. When I’m a dragon, sunlight affects my vision sometimes.”
The two of them continue to bicker, both standing obnoxiously close to the helm. Rime lets Sinister steer, but he keeps incredibly close as if he’ll swoop in if the sea becomes too much for the demon.
I arch a brow at said demon. We’re traveling along so smoothly. The wind whips and pulls, but the crashing waves never jostle the vessel. Because of Sinister. He doesn’t show it, but I can tell by the focused set of his fiery gaze that he’s emitting unseen magic. He’s so powerful but he never shows it. He never gives anyone a reason to fear him.
I can’t imagine how much strength he’s using to guide us against nature itself at such a calm but quick pace. We’re not sailing. We’re practically soaring.
And only someone who’s been around boats their entire life would realize how we’re cutting unnaturally through the sea and wind rather than gliding with it.
“Is that it in the distance?” Chaos looks over my shoulder, and the discreet way he guides me closer to his chest doesn’t register in my mind.
He’s right. There it is.
The dark shadow of trees along the sea of stars quiets us all. Sinister and Rime’s taunting dwindles down, letting the sound of ripping waves fill the air. Tension builds in my chest with every second that passes, but it also eases the closer we get to that outline in the distance.
They were just stories. The water women were just fanatical tales meant to scare young children away from traveling too far.
Except for that boy who died.
If the unnerving water women are just a legend of false lore, what happened to the boy who never returned? The smooth sailing of the ship is thrown. Literally. The entire thing groans with wood scraping just before we’re all jostled abruptly forward. Chaos’ palm splays over my lower back, and he holds me against him as we fall. His forearm slams to the floor, but aside from my feet, not a single inch of my body collides with anything other than his rigid muscle tone. He presses me against him, holding me with one arm as if we’re dancing and this is just an elaborate dip in our routine.
“Sorry,” he whispers on a breath just as uneven as my own.
My body is tense against his, my nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to scratch into the skin beneath his shirt. All I can do is wonder if the water women are moments away from climbing the frame of the ship on spindly legs and devouring us whole.
