Page 20 of Of Songs and Silence

Still, I’m grateful because I would have had no idea of what to do in here.

Pointing to a small bowl of white sand, he explains that this is used to clean your skin. There are flowers growing along the wall, and their oils can be obtained by crushing the leaves. Those are for your hair.

And finally, a short bench in the corner that is somehow attached to pipes that lead to a sinkhole will dispose of the necessary bodily functions.

Once I feel like I understand everything, I shoo Ari from the room, shutting the door behind him.

I take my time, rubbing handfuls of sand along my skin, scrubbing away the debris from the day. The flowers smell like peonies and soon my hair does too. I try to collect my thoughts as I clean up. But my mind keeps drifting back to one thing.

One bed.

It shouldn’t matter. After the day I’ve had, the bloodshed we’ve seen, I shouldn’t care. It would almost be easier if the thought of our shared sleeping arrangement were as distressing as it should be. But my traitorous body doesn’t seem to care that we don’t know a single thing about this gorgeous, guarded man.

In fact, my skin is practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of being closer to him. Of lying next to him on the bed, and closer than that.

Ari rubs a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut and looking like he is praying to whatever Mayiman deity he believes in.

I must have let my shields drop again.

“We’re sharing the bed?” I ask somewhat unnecessarily.

“It’s not sexual for Mayima when we share a bed. It’s practicality. Kane and I would have done the same.” With Ari’s overly neutral tone and the way his gaze rakes over me, I wonder if he’s giving the explanation for my benefit as much as he’s reminding himself.

“Of course,” I say with equal nonchalance.

He narrows his eyes like he suspects that I am biting back laughter at his expense. Which is fair, because I definitely am. He turns away, stretching while he pretends to ignore me. The muscles in his back ripple with the movement, and I don’t have the energy to pretend to ignore him in turn.

Sighing for the hundredth time today, he unbuckles the strap that holds his trident, placing it on the ground next to him before gracefully climbing into the bed. Napo slides onto the other side of the mattress. He takes a few moments to plump the pillows before he lays his head down, and I swear there’s something mischievous in his squishy features at leaving me the space in the middle.

Right next to Ari.

The glance Ari gives the octopus confirms my thoughts. With a sigh that mirrors my captor’s, I lie down in the narrow space, trying to ignore how I feel instantly calmer with the proximity.

After a few tense moments, I risk glancing over at him.

For all that he says sharing a bed isn’t sexual here, I struggle to feel the truth of that when he’s next to me, shirtless, heat radiating from him and sending tendrils of fire dancing along my skin. His sure, strong hands clench, and I can’t help but picture them sliding along my shoulders, down to my waist, his throaty growl sounding in my head, his…

“You need to stop, Kala.” Each word is truncated.

A flush burns through me. I should apologize, but instead, I find myself asking the obvious question. “Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous.” He doesn’t seem to want to say this.

“Dangerous for who?”

“For both of us,” he grudgingly admits.

Is that better? Worse? He has all but admitted this is not one sided in the same breath as he completely dismisses it. Something like grief washes over me, more potent than it has a right to be in the circumstances.

“Why?” I ask again, the word more frustrated this time.

I have been here less than a day, and already, I am sick of the way I understand nothing about this place.

“There are things I can’t tell you.” He seems to be responding to my quieter thought as much as the one I intentionally projected, though my mental shields feel secure.

“Then tell me something.” It’s more of a plea than a demand, and perhaps that’s why he doesn’t say no out of hand.

Perhaps he can sense the way the day is finally edging in on me, fraying at the fabric of my sanity. The way the strange thrumming between us is driving me mad with wanting and confusion.

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