I needed the words to shove her away from me. To be my shield against her.
All this time, she’d avoided me—gone out of her way to prevent touch or talk. But now she chased me. She kissed me. She fought me when I promised to give her what she’d wanted all along.
Why?
I paced away, moving toward the bridge. I didn’t care if she followed me; I just needed a few seconds alone to man the fuck up and get myself straight.
The fact she’d spoken to me in sentence strings and not half halts, or even that she’d kissed me regardless of what I’d done wasn’t what shocked me the most. It was the fact she’d argued against me freeing her.
Had I been wrong about her desires this entire time? Wasn’t freedom something a prisoner craved? Or had the worst finally happened where she was more comfortable in a master’s cage than she could ever be in wide open spaces with no one to dictate her life?
I raked both hands through my hair as I reached the middle of the ship and headed toward the barrier protecting the deck from the ocean. Slightly out of breath from my fast stalk, I forced myself to breathe deep and slow, to tame the chaotic urges building inside me.
The sea glittered with greys and blacks, giving way to the moon.
Something scuffed behind me. I looked over my shoulder.
Christ, I couldn’t get away from her. By embracing her voice, she’d grown unbelievably strong. Stronger than I could’ve hoped or expected but now it pissed me off because what she wanted didn’t line up with what I did.
I’m in fucking charge, not her.
It didn’t matter I’d taken her against her will or announced I would send her packing now she was healthy. She chased me down, her hands balled with determination, her hair flicking around her in the breeze.
Her cheeks glowed, lips pursed, and the light in her eyes cast full of intolerant shadows. She swallowed, grimacing a little against whatever pain she felt from using her voice. “Elder—”
“What do you want, Pim?” I tore my gaze from her to the endless horizon. A horizon that didn’t judge or ridicule. A vista that never changed—no matter if I was good or bad. “Tonight is not a good night for talking.”
Nor is any night I keep you close and can’t have you.
My hand snuck into my pocket, tracing the line of the joint I’d hid there. I’d rolled it a few hours ago but had yet to fail enough to smoke it. My thoughts were ragged but not uncontrollable. Not yet at least. But if Pim kept hounding me, I’d struggle, I’d cave, and then we’d both be fucked.
“I want to—” She coughed. “We need—”
“Sir?” A female servant with a black ponytail crept up behind Pim. “Sorry to interrupt but dinner is ready.”
Pim smiled at her before tucking her chin respectfully. She didn’t speak to the maid as if saving her voice for me.
I couldn’t deny that affected me. That I didn’t love that her answers and questions were all mine.
Fuck.
“Thank you.” I pushed off the railing and strode past Pim. Despite Selix setting up this sham of a date, I didn’t want to have dinner. I didn’t want to sit and stare and wish and want. I didn’t want to fight with her over doing the right thing. But I couldn’t send her away.
Not now.
That would be the height of rudeness—especially after what I’d done.
I shuddered as the memory of being inside her made me hard. I shouldn’t have any reaction apart from disgust. Definitely not the insane need to do it again.
Not looking back, I muttered, “Come on, little mouse. If you’re so interested in discussing your future, the least you can do is eat while doing it.”
She huffed but followed a few steps behind me.
I didn’t like it. I hated the feeling that she could look at me, trace my back, my legs, my ass. She could think things and blatantly let emotion show on her face because I couldn’t see. Her gaze felt like a whipping.
Entering the dining room where she’d stripped and almost made me snap, we took our respective chairs and waited in silence as the staff brought out a platter of baby chargrilled octopus, chilly-infused calamari, and Thai green mussels.
I guessed the chef was on a seafood kick tonight.
Pim glanced at me.
I waved at the platter. “Help yourself.”
She frowned but took a small spoonful of each delicacy before adding a freshly baked roll and curled butter to her plate. The minute she’d finished, I chose my own entrée and took a bite. Of course, it was delicious. Without fail, my chef produced epic food.
I’d hoped we could get through the first course without talking, but Pim had other ideas.
She swallowed her mouthful, took a sip of chilled water, and said, “About my future.”
“What about it?” I buttered my roll, studiously ignoring her. The longer I was in her company, the more I craved the syrupy relaxation offered by the weed sitting in my pocket.
Some men smoked cigars after dinner. I smoked pot—when I needed to. I had every intention of doing so tonight. Mainly to protect her from me. And to stop me from falling down the slippery slope of my screw-ups.
“I deserve to have some say in what my future holds, don’t you think?”
My knife clattered onto the side plate. “Are you saying I’ve been taking away your decisions?”
Don’t say yes. Even though it was true.
She fiddled with her cutlery. “I’m saying I’m tired of having no control.” She looked over her shoulder, lowering her voice from the hired help. “Last night…a lot of things happened to me.”
“Shit.” I slammed my elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I told you I’m sorry for that. I can’t sleep and barely concentrate. But I’m trying to make it right by fucking freeing you.”
“You’re not making it right,” she seethed. “You’re making it right for you. Not me.”
I dropped my hand, glowering. “Don’t I have that power? After all, I invited you onto my yacht. I showed you things I haven’t shown anyone. I kept you safe.” Smugness helped smother my vulnerability with cocky half-truths. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be talking. If it wasn’t for me, you’d probably have thrown yourself into the sea by now.”
She froze, rage painting her features.
The staff returned, sweeping up the half-touched platter and replacing it with mains of herb-stuffed sword-fish with gnocchi and garlic butter. It smelled divine, but nothing could tear my attention from Pimlico or hers from me.
We locked in an eye-war, wondering who would break first.
Picking up her fork, Pim tore her gaze away. The fact that she’d broken the spell didn’t mean she’d lost. She’d managed to scoop out my insides and leave me hollow. Her lips parted as she stroked the fork as if it was a wand and could grant her magic.
Slowly, she smiled. “I had every intention of arguing with you—to try to discuss what happened like adults. But I don’t need to.” She held up the fork. “This is all the proof I need.”