Page 47 of The Lost Fae
Outside of the Captain's quarters, Lincoln pulls me to the back of the top deck, only stopping once we are pressed against the railing, looking over the edge. The wind has pushed us farther than I'd realized, even with the knowledge that this boat is particularly fast. Blue ocean waves that reflect the afternoon sun rise and fall in beautiful crests. Water surrounds us in all directions. My eyes sweep around, wondering where exactly the 'here' Lincoln speaks of actually is. On the boat? On the back of the boat?
Ziko points to the sea. "The only way to get home is to drown. That's the portal."
Twelve
I’ve Got A Tingling Sensation In My Pants
Drowning.In my mind I expect it feels like fire running through your veins, eating and burning up everything inside of you. It sounds terrible, just in the context of what I know from my human body. But to drown in this body? All my senses are sharper. I feelmore.
"Are you sure?" Every ounce of sweat on my body turns to an icy sheen. I'm waiting for him to tell me which part of this is a joke. Hopefully all of it. Fucking hell.
"Yes. That's why hardly anyone comes back. That, and Anastasia doesn't want to lose the power she has... or the subjects. So no one knows."
With half numb fingers, I begin undoing my jacket. Lincoln watches, making no move to stop me. Shrugging out of the multiple layers, I place a hand on his shoulder, using it as leverage. The step is easier than I expect it to be as I balance on the edge of the railing.
I point at my coat. "We won't need that where we're going."
"And you know where this is going to spit us out?" He hums, but starts removing his own coat. "Fuck it. We can be cold together if it happens that way."
The railing shakes as Lincoln joins me on the ledge. I keep my feet planted, my eyes fixed on the abyss before us. If he's wrong, if the ocean won't take us back home, are these my last breaths? I take the largest inhale I can, holding it for a moment before I blow it out my nose.
"This puts a whole new meaning behind if your friend jumps off a cliff, would you?" I say nervously, my smile so brittle I'm afraid that if I lift it more, then I'll shatter my nerve and back out of what needs to be done. The question only leads me to wonder if perhaps I'm a little bit too trusting.
"If you jumped off a cliff, I would too." There isn't a hint of a joke on Lincoln's features. He stares at me, his gaze roaming over my face.
"This must truly be the height of romance, then. Some Romeo and Juliet shit, huh?" I nod to myself.
"I don't know what half the things you say mean, but I like the way you say them." Lincoln intertwines our fingers and gives me the slightest squeeze. "Count of three?"
"You count."
"Anything for you, my queen," he whispers, "Count of three."
The pounding of my heart is so loud I'm afraid I'll start bleeding out my ears as my pulse picks and races through me.
"One…"
Cold air burns down my throat, filling my lungs. A shudder shakes my entire body.
"Two..."
My arm is wrenched forward, my body quickly toppling forward. I shriek as my feet leave the safety of the boat. The only comfort is how tightly Lincoln's hand holds mine. Our grips are locked together and even as we crash into the swell of water they can't be torn apart. If Cordelia couldn't keep us away from one another, no force of nature could. Not even death can tear us apart.
Pinpricks of ice dig into every inch of my skin like a thousand frosty daggers. Blades made from the shocking cold slice through my skin, down to my bone.Everywhere.I try to stretch for one more breath of air, but the ocean swallows us whole. Water covers my head. Sea salt stings inside of my nose as I try to hold my breath.
Our bodies whip and spin as a current circulates around us. It funnels like a maelstrom as its suction pulls us down to the depths of water, where I'm certain only deadly and ancient creatures dwell. The deeper we go, the closer the chaos of the current brings our bodies together. My knees crack against Lincoln's and whatever air I hold inside my lungs is pushed roughly from my body as our chests collide.
He wraps his arms around me, clinging my slender form to the width of his muscle. There's a shameful spike of fear that washes through his thoughts. A regret that maybe we'd done the wrong thing. Lincoln doesn't mourn with the idea of his death. Doesn't so much as ponder the idea. No. It's me. It's always been me. Then it hits me. Hard. More powerful than the ache in my lungs.
Lincoln's spine goes ramrod straight. I stiffen too. My body shifts from the icy cold to sweltering hot. Each cut of the ocean fades with a tingling sensation that vibrates every cell in my body. Lightning bolts of pleasure, leg quaking, back arching, almost so good you need to run away from it, euphoria strikes. I can feel my eyes roll to the back of my head, the last remaining bit of air escaping me in a bubbly moan.Fireworks of gratification shoot from the heat between my legs and travel up into my chest then back down into my feet. My toes curl. I suck more water in, not even registering the hurt of it flowing into my lungs, when all I want to do is cry out with unbridled joy.
I gasp. Twitching, as my body is hit with rotating waves of hot and cold. I'd always imagined death would be peaceful. I never thought that it would be... enjoyable. Satisfying, even.
Only when the rush that has consumed every fiber of my being slows, eventually fading to a slight static tingle that snaps the bonds between Lincoln and I taut do I realize cool air fills my chest. I take a large breath to be certain. There is light on the other side of my closed eyelids. Lincoln's hand is still in mine, but has slipped enough that we only cling to each other with the stubbornness of the tips of our fingers.
I can hear him take a sharp breath next to me. I crack one eye. The green limbs of trees and the yellow sun spin in circles above me.
"Is this hell?" I open my other eye. Something hard pokes at my spine. With my free hand I dig underneath me and pull out a thick stick, looking at it for a second before I toss it away. Not a single ounce of water has been retained in my clothing. I pat myself, making sure every part of me is still attached and that nothing is bleeding.
