“Welcome home, little sister,” he whispered against her mouth, before pressing his full lips to hers.
At first she wanted to fight it, tell him “no way, buddy,” but then she felt something sweet and warm and wonderful flow from his mouth to hers and she wanted more. All of it.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned up on tiptoe as his tongue coiled around hers. She didn’t know what sounds she made, all she knew was she wanted to crawl inside him, take it all, all the sweet air he could give.
When he broke away she laughed because now she could smell, and it was amazing. There was salt and flowers and something sweet, yet pungent. Sircco smiled, the hermit crabs around his crown marching like tiny soldiers.
“My sister and I would like to invite you both to dine with us this eve.”
She looked at Hook, he was staring at her and the way he was watching, it made heat sizzle through her veins, butterflies tickled her stomach. He nodded.
“Thank you, we shall,” Hook agreed for them both.
Sircco still hadn’t released her, his warm hands gripped her forearm as he began to leisurely swim, like if he had legs they’d be on a meandering stroll.
“And how do you find our realm, human?” he asked.
She had to turn away from his gaze. Something about it almost made her feel hypnotized. Staring at her feet, she smiled.
“It’s gorgeous. Breathtaking. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He nodded as his fingers slid down, tracing the seam of her elbow. “You do not remember this at all, do you?” His words were so casual, his touch was not.
And while she liked it, it also kind of bothered her. Sircco was gorgeous, fishy parts aside, but she didn’t want to give anyone the impression that she was okay with being touched however they wanted. Gently pulling her arm free of him, she shrugged.
“No.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t seem upset by her pulling away, which she was grateful for, he was a king after all, not that she knew much about that profession. Except that when they were offended they tended to get all moody about it. King Henry the VIII came immediately to mind. “I’m not surprised to hear it. I see Talia within you, but I see many others as well.”
She stopped walking, touching his arm to get him to turn. “How many?”
Never in her life had she believed in reincarnation, her theory had always been you lived, you died, and that was that. She wasn’t sure she even believed it now, but she hadn’t believed in mermaids or fairies either, or the sexy Captain Hook. Just thinking his name made her breathing hitch.
“Many.” He brushed hair back from her face. “I know little of the Earthen realm. Only what others have shared, but one day in Kingdom is the equivalent of one month in your world. Talia’s been dead a hundred years. How long is a mortal life?”
She trembled as the enormity of what he was saying became realized. “That can’t be.”
His smile was serene, but also full of something she couldn’t name. Longing maybe? Hope? She couldn’t exactly say, but it made her sad for whatever reason.
“There is magic in every world, you just have to learn to recognize its essence.” He started moving again.
Trisha fingers shook as she brushed her bangs behind her ear, searching for Hook. He was already within the dining chambers, sitting at a large mother of pearl table and staring into his cup.
He looked haunted, and so sad it made her throat ache.
“The prince calls to you, even in this form, does he not?”
She jerked, forgetting for a moment that Sircco had probably seen the thoughts flashing across her face. Clearing her throat, she smiled. “He thinks I’ll fall into his bed. He couldn’t be more wrong.”
Brushing her cheek with the pad of this thumb, he nodded. “I’ve missed you. Your wit, your beauty. You were always—” he stopped, then smiling tightly, dropped his hand. “But I suppose, I should stop. Because I can see that though her spirit lies in you, your soul,” he covered her heart with the palm of his hand, “is shaded differently. And this new soul,” he whispered, “is as lovely as hers.”
Stomach tickling, she finally allowed herself to meet his eyes. They were different than Sirenade’s had been. His swirled, like the brewing clouds of a gathering storm.
She wasn’t sure what she might have been about to say, because in that second she felt him. Hook. He was looking at her and she lost her words, because his look was almost a touch—a silent caress that left her speechless. How could that man affect her like this?
“In another life maybe you could have been mine,” Sircco’s warm voice made her pull her gaze away reluctantly, “for I fear, dear mortal, that in this one he still draws you.”
“No.” She frowned. “No.”
His brow lifted, as if with amusement. “There are moments when I do see her in you. Lie to yourself all you want, but the end is already written, it’s just a matter of getting there.”