Page 32 of Pirate Witch
I roll my eyes. “I don’t like feeling that you’re taking it easy on me.”
Klaus doesn’t hesitate to call me on my bullshit. “On any other day, I wouldn’t dare. But your trust in your other mates has just been shaken. Deep down, I think you’re waiting for me to do the same thing.”
“That makes no sense,” I scoff. “You never made a bargain with the Queen.”
“No, but how often do emotions follow logic?” He shrugs. “Your mind was prepared for it. You know they aren’t to blame, butanyonewould feel wary after being hurt by their own mates.”
I choose to cut off the conversation by aiming a roundhouse kick at his stomach.
Klaus doesn’t say anything else after that. Both of us are too consumed by the fight—if you can call it that. The siren blocks my every move with a calm, even patience that doesn’t dissipate even as my attacks become more frenzied. My body might be occupied, but my mind is running riot. I’m over-thinking everything he just said. Replaying every second of the fight in the cave.
Through it all, my siren mate never goes on the offensive. Never makes a move that might trigger me. No matter how frustrated I become, or how aggravated and heavy my strikes are, he simply stands there and takes it.
He knows exactly how badly my heart is breaking, and he doesn’t tell me to pull my punches or calm down. At first, that makes me angrier, but the emotion burns away and fizzles out as my energy wanes.
I don’t know exactly when the first tear escapes, but once I start crying, I don’t stop. My face is a wet mess, and my vision blurry as I level hit after hit towards my siren. Each sob saps my strength until my punches are so weak he doesn’t even try to stop them. Instead, he tugs me into his body and lets me continue my half-hearted thumps against his chest.
“Fight back,” I order, hating the way my voice shakes.
“Let it out,” he replies.
His hands trail soothing lines up and down my spine while his chin comes to rest on top of my head. Klaus hums a quiet melody that’s barely audible over the soft sounds of the ocean beside us. After several long seconds, it works. My tears stop flowing and my breath comes a little easier. My whole body is still quaking and hiccoughing on every inhale, and I hate it. I’m a Shadow. I’m stronger than this.
I don’t realise I’ve spoken aloud until Klaus chuckles. The sound is so out of place that I freeze, daring him to say something.
“Sorry,” he says. “It’s just bottling up emotions requires far less strength than actually facing up to and owning them.” At my disbelieving look, he continues. “I’m a siren, remember? We know about these things.”
I believe him. The song he sang for me at our mating ceremony made mefeelevery single thing he did. So it’s no big stretch to assume that sirens are far more empathic than most of the other races.
When my breathing evens out completely, and the tears have dried on his bare chest, he finally releases me. I step back, feeling strangely empty. As if crying somehow emptied me of the internal conflict which was eating at me.
I’m not sure which is worse, feeling like my emotions are about to burst out of my skin, or feeling nothing at all.
That’s when the first wave brushes my foot.
I never noticed the tide coming in, and I stiffen. Klaus sighs, presses a soft kiss to my forehead and sweeps me off my feet into his arms.
“No,” I protest, pushing against him. “It was just the shock.”
It’s only a half-lie, and it must work because Klaus gently lowers me back down to the sand, lingering for a second before he fully lets me go. His eyes are still crinkled with concern, but now that I’m braced for the coolness of the water, it’s actually not that bad.
“I’m not sure you should push yourself like this after the day you’ve had,” he cautions.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I shouldn’t.
But in this void, where all of my emotions have drained themselves dry, I don’t mind the salt water lapping at my toes. Now that the shock has worn off, it’s almost… pleasant.
Surely, that’s progress?
Klaus takes my hand, tugging me away from the water.
“Associating the water with negative events won’t help you in the long run,” he says.
“Then make this a good memory,” I challenge.
My siren mate hesitates, probably doubting the wisdom of my idea. But I’m a Lunar. Built for touch. Made by a Goddess who worships pleasure. Sex isn’t something that messes up our minds. Quite the opposite; it’s grounding for us. Healing.
Klaus is over-analysing this, and I decide to put a stop to it. I rise to my tiptoes, wrap my arms around his neck, and press the first kiss to the underside of his jaw. The second brushes against his lips, which part on a defeated sigh.
