A warm weight settles over my shoulders. Bowen’s cloak. Even as I tell myself not to, I pull it closer and inhale deeply. His cedar scent settles something inside me just as much as the residual warmth inside the cloak does. I don’t know what to think about it, so I don’t think about it at all.
I trudge back to the ship. In the predawn darkness, it’s still and silent. There’s also no gangplank. Damn it. The thought barely crosses my mind when Bowen’s magic wraps around me and lifts me into the air. His grip wobbles a little before he steadies me. I glance down to find his expression strained. He used a lot of magic tonight, too. Even though he’s got to be just as exhausted as I am, he’s still going above and beyond to ensure I have an easier time getting aboard. It’s unnecessary and frivolous and … damn it, it warms my heart.
The rise up the side of the ship is slow going, nearly as slow as if I’d climbed it myself. It gives me too much time to think. With the delicate way he’s holding me, even in his exhaustion, there’s a part of my brain that can’t stop analyzing the possibilities. I was too scared out of my mind earlier to register exactly how sexy it is that he has this level of power. Of control.
I’m not scared right now.
Who needs bondage ropes when your partner can hold you down with their mind? Can lift you and move you and touch you without lifting a single finger?
No. Not going there.
Except I’ve already gone there, haven’t I? The lid is off that Pringles can and now I know exactly how good he tastes, how he holds me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world, how he growls when he’s about to lose it. A woman could get addicted to being touched like that, to affecting her partner that deeply with only a kiss and an embrace.
I have no illusions about how I look. I’m fat and sexy and I’ve had no shortage of partners over the years. But it’s always been a game, a push and pull for fun or dominance or, in Lizzie’s case, a perverse desire to unravel her epic control. I was never successful; even in the throes of orgasm, she was as cold as ice. It made me want her more.
Bowen isn’t like that. There’s no game here. He’s so devastatingly serious. I don’t know how to deal with it. I shouldn’t deal with it. No matter the attraction I feel for him, I’m leaving.
Yes, the C?n Annwn are scary, but so is Lizzie. I was already planning on spending the rest of my life dodging her. Tomato, tomahto.
Bowen sets me gently on the deck and physically climbs up instead of using his magic for himself. As I suspected, he looks like he’s weaving on his feet when he hauls himself aboard a few moments later. He shakes his head when I go to shrug off his cloak. “Keep it for now.”
It’s impossible not to notice how the rain plasters his white shirt to his broad chest. The fabric is practically transparent, clearly displaying every curve of muscle and scar. There are a lot of scars. It makes my heart pang strangely, but my heart has always been a fickle creature. Of course it would feel empathy for this man who is just as much monster as the cat-sìth.
“Thanks.” Without another word, I turn away and head belowdecks. Lucky is nowhere in evidence when I duck into our room. It’s just as well. I’m not in the mood to deal with their strange attitude.
I peel off my drenched clothes yet again and glare at them. That’s two botched escape attempts—one from Lizzie’s mansion and one from the Crimson Hag. Maybe the clothes are cursed. Next time I run, I’ll wear something else.
Granted, nothing fits quite right from the clothing I’ve been given, but that’s a battle for another day. There is magic that can bolster sewing and stitching, but I never bothered learning it because I’m downright garbage at both. As Bunny always said, Stick to what you’re good at.
My inhale sticks in my throat. Gods, what am I doing? This was my best opportunity to escape and I barely made it a few hundred yards. Bowen saw me coming a mile away. I never stood a chance.
How in the gods’ name am I going to get free? I’ve wiggled out of some sticky situations over the years, but this is by far the stickiest. There has to be a way …
I flop onto my bed and, with only the most fleeting feeling of guilt, pull Bowen’s cloak around me. I have no business finding comfort in the reminder of my captor, and yet here I am.
Sleep takes me between one breath and the next, exhaustion sucking me down into the depths.
CHAPTER 13
Bowen
THE STORM PASSES RIGHT ON SCHEDULE. WE SPEND A full twenty-four hours docked, just long enough for interested crew members to avail themselves to the hospitality of Yaltia. The bar owner will be happy with their income from all the drinking, and I sent Kit to secure proper clothing for Evelyn.
Not that the witch makes another appearance in that time. I tell myself it’s a blessing that she’s not underfoot and causing trouble while we get ready to set sail. It doesn’t stop me from having to forcibly turn away from the door belowdecks over and over again as the storm decreases to a sprinkle of rain and a playful breeze, and then dies away completely a few hours later.
She doesn’t need me to check on her. She’s fine. There’s nowhere more protected from outside attack than the Crimson Hag, and my crew knows better than to do more than good-natured ribbing with each other. The same can’t be said for other C?n Annwn ships, but …
I can control only this ship and this crew. I can’t worry about the others. If I try to battle every injustice in this world, I’ll end up in the sea, feeding the mermaids. Ezra taught me that it’s vital to pick your battles, and protect those you can because it’s impossible to protect everyone in an unfair world. Some times that lesson chafes more than others.
“I got what you asked for, Captain.”
I nod at Kit. Ne has a bag in nir hands, and it looks significantly fuller than I expected. I raise my brows. “Did you buy out the whole place?”
Ne grins. “Not at all. Yaltia gets plenty of traffic through, so they keep a good stock of things for our people to trade with.”
In a realm of constantly moving islands—and portals—stationary trading locations are worth their weight in gold. There are four permanent islands of some size in Threshold—Sarvi, Drash, Lyari, and Three Sisters. The latter is technically three islands, as their name would suggest, but they’re in such close proximity with each other that they gained a single name for all three.
Yaltia sits at a perfect intersection amid the routes between the permanent islands, which means a significant amount of traffic. Its position makes Yaltia an invaluable stop for supplies on some of the longer voyages.