Page 21 of Blood Skye (Skye Druids #6)

Chapter Twenty-One

The soft whir of the motor combined with the breeze and gentle rocking of the boat transported Song . For a single moment, she forgot about why she was on the boat. She forgot why she wore someone else’s clothes. And why everyone was a potential enemy.

But in that brief moment, her heart felt lighter. It was her first glimpse of what contentment might feel like. What it might actually look like. It was a lifeline she had never had before.

And she wanted it more than she wanted anything else.

Even if she got free of London , she would forever carry the stain of the numerous deeds she had committed in their name. It didn’t matter that all of it had been done to keep her sister alive. She had made that choice. Sacrificing her soul had seemed her only alternative after what she had done to Jai .

“ Want me to steer?”

Song startled to find Carlyle standing before her. His beautiful eyes watched her, and the look on his face was one that said he knew exactly what she was thinking. Which was preposterous. But she couldn’t shake the feeling.

“ I’m fine,” she answered.

He twisted his lips and nodded as he rubbed his hands together in the chilly spring weather and looked from one side of the water to the other shore. “ I checked your pile of food. It’s pretty much what the bunker had.”

“ Are you saying we don’t have enough?”

“ I’m saying I now know that you eat a lot of canned food.”

She shrugged. “ It’s easy.”

“ Do I take that to mean you don’t cook?”

“ That wasn’t part of my training.”

He crossed his arms over his chest as his brow furrowed. “ Do you like food?”

“ It’s a necessity. I eat enough to get buy.”

“ Clearly ,” he stated, looking her up and down.

Song took offense to that. She glanced down at herself. “ What’s wrong with the way I look?”

“ Nothing , as long as you aren’t starving yourself.”

“ Oh , please. I’m not. I don’t know how to cook, but I have to eat. So , I get what’s easy and simple.”

He nodded, his lips flattening in distaste. “ You buy enough to get by.”

“ Obviously . What do you think restaurants are for?”

“ We need to stay away from such places, remember?”

Song figured he was making a point. “ I do.”

“ Good . If we’re going to be on the boat for a few days, I want to eat a decent meal.”

“ Can you whip up something like you did in the bunker?”

He gave her a long-suffering look like a father seeking patience for a stubborn child. “ Veggies are good for us.”

“ I know that.”

“ Then you won’t mind stopping at the next village so I can find some.”

She stared at him, knowing he was serious but also debating with herself. Stopping was dangerous, but that hazard would follow wherever they went. While she didn’t know how to cook or even care to learn, she had to admit that Carlyle had a gift when it came to preparing food. She wouldn’t mind more of that.

“ All right.”

He dropped his arms, and his lips softened. “ Wonderful . I saw some fishing poles. Do you fish?”

“ They came with the boat.”

“ In other words, no. Do you eat fish, at least?”

“ Yes ,” she said tersely. She was attempting not to take offense at him pointing out her flaws, but it was impossible. “ I’m not a picky eater.”

He turned and pulled out a fishing pole that had been secured to the outside. Song watched him expertly test it. He found a small chest she hadn’t seen before and realized it was a tackle box. She watched him in fascination, especially the way the area between his brows wrinkled as he concentrated. The wind ruffled his hair, tugging the wavy locks into his face.

She was so engrossed in watching Carlyle that she almost missed the village. Song quickly turned, angled the tiller, and powered down the motor. The village was small and quiet, which meant there was plenty of room to dock the boat. She scanned the area for designated visitor mooring but didn’t see any. Nor was anyone manning the shoreline.

Carlyle set the rods down and hurried to the opposite side to tie the boat. She angled the vessel thirty degrees toward the bank. Carlyle jumped onto shore with the ropes in hand as she brought the boat alongside it. He tied the front of the vessel to the bank as she took care of the back.

“ So ,” he said as he came up, dusting off his hands, “you want to fish?”

She glanced at the pole. “ I’ll pass.”

“ I need to get some things in the village besides food. I won’t be long.”

Song listened as he walked around her and picked up the fishing rod. He reared back and cast the line before slowly reeling it in. Before she knew what was happening, he put the pole in her hands.

“ It’s easy,” he told her. “ Use this button to hold down the line. Release it when you’re casting. Let the bait sit for a few moments before reeling it in.”

She stared aghast at the rod. “ You can’t be serious.”

“ Do you clean fish?”

“ How would I know how to do that?”

“ My point exactly. If I’m cleaning and cooking, you can at least catch our dinner.”

He started to walk away. She opened her mouth, her brain frozen at the idea of what he was asking of her. “ But …wh-what if I get a fish on the line?”

“ Take it off and put it on the deck,” he said as he stepped onto shore.

Song glared at the hated fishing rod. It was an experience she wanted nothing to do with. Grudgingly , she realized Carlyle had a point. He was cooking. She needed to contribute to dinner, and this was how she could. How hard could it be?

She learned just how difficult after an hour of casting and reeling with nothing on the line. Not even a nibble. Though she wasn’t sure what that would feel like. Which must mean she wasn’t getting any bites.

“ Carlyle must have used the wrong bait,” she grumbled.

The boat leaned as someone stepped on board. She turned to see Carlyle holding three bags in his hands. Two were stuffed with an assortment of vegetables and other foods. She couldn’t see what was in the third bag.

“ How’s it coming?” he asked.

She frowned and turned back to the water. “ I don’t think the fish like me.”

“ Do you know what fishing is all about?” Carlyle asked, his voice floating up from below as he put the items away.

“ I bet you’re going to tell me,” she mumbled.

“ It’s about relaxing. Enjoying the outdoors. Getting to know nature. Watching the water. Learning the fish’s habits,” he called.

She rolled her eyes. “ Habits of fish, huh? I don’t want to spend hours doing this.”

“ Then you’ll never catch anything,” he said, his voice right behind her.

Song should’ve figured he’d come up without her hearing. She shot him a dark look. “ It’s been an hour. I have nothing.”

“ You’re reeling the line in too fast. Let me show you.”

She gladly handed him the rod. “ Take it. We need to get moving anyway.”

Song could’ve sworn she heard him chuckle, but when she glanced over her shoulder, his back was to her. She removed the ties from the shore and got them back on course in short order. It wasn’t until she was back at the tiller that she noticed him looking at her.

“ What ?” she asked.

“ I’m waiting for you.”

She started to argue but then nodded and released the tiller. The motor wasn’t running. The boat drifted with the current as she walked the few steps to him.

“ All right,” he said. “ Watch me.”

With her eyes glued to him, she listened as he went through casting and reeling, step by step. She had to bite her tongue not to snap a disgruntled reply at being talked to so simply. Instead , she said, “ I got all of that.”

“ Show me,” he bade, handing the rod back.

Song knew what it was to be under intense scrutiny while being trained. This was completely different, yet it felt the same. Fishing was so easy, children did it. Successfully . Why couldn’t she? Was she flawed in some way? Maybe she was missing the fishing gene.

Or perhaps she was too broken to do something so simple.

She pulled back her arm and cast the line.

“ That was a good one,” Carlyle said.

It felt like a dozen butterflies took wing in her stomach. No one had ever told her she was good at anything. They had always demanded more from her, of her. Faster . Stronger . More …everything.

She blinked away the sting in her eyes. Tears ? She didn’t cry. That was weakness. London had stomped that out of her years ago. Why then was her vision blurry?

“ Slowly ,” Carlyle said as he moved closer to her. “ Reel it in slower.”

Song felt his heat beside her. She stilled, her hands unable to move with him so near. She had been doing good. Then , she messed it up. How could she mess up something so easy?

He slid behind her, his arms moving to either side of her. One of his large hands covered hers that held the rod, the other on the reel. “ Like this,” he said as he leisurely turned the handle to reel in the bait.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He was too close. His warmth was disconcerting, his gentleness confusing. His hard body distressing.

“ Oh !” he exclaimed. “ Did you feel that?”

Song only felt him. Every delicious, solid inch of him. Somehow , she nodded because that’s what he expected.

“ A fish nibbled on the lure. We almost had him. You can’t move the lure too fast or too slow,” he explained.

His voice was smooth, coaxing. His arms sheltering. She was braced against him, his body like a shield. She wasn’t standing alone for once. But she couldn’t read anything into this. It was a fishing lesson. Nothing more. Oh , but if it were…

Song focused on the lure rising from the depths as water dripped from it. Carlyle moved her arms back, and they cast together. He wasn’t controlling her but guiding her. What would a man like him be like in bed? She swallowed hard just thinking about it.

“ Take it slow,” he urged.

She got panicky when his fingers loosened. He was about to let go and leave her alone again. She was tired of being alone. With him conducting things, she could fish. Without him…she didn’t want to think about it.

Carlyle let go of the pole and rested his hand on her shoulder. “ You’ve got this. Nice and slow.”

His other hand remained on hers as she gradually turned the lever, but it was more support than anything. She was so focused on taking it slow that she didn’t notice when something tugged on the line.

“ Yank the hook,” Carlyle urged her patiently. His hand returned to the rod, and he showed her how to jerk it up to set the hook in the fish. “ Now , reel him in. He’ll try to swim, so be ready.”

The excitement of catching a fish soon took over. Song’s arm muscles strained as she fought with the fish to get him close to the boat where Carlyle waited with a net. She reeled and pulled, reeled and pulled, over and over. The fish flopped out of the water, doing its best to get free.

“ Well , look here,” Carlyle said as he straightened and held up the net with the fish. “ Good job.”

The praise slid warmly over her. At that moment, she was so excited she imagined she could walk on water. Her gaze lifted from the fish to Carlyle . He wore an odd expression, though. Almost like he didn’t recognize her.

All the pleasure drained from her in a second. “ Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt the fish? He’s gasping for breath.”

“ You did nothing wrong.”

“ Then what is it?” she pushed.

“ You were smiling.”

Song wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Instead , she nodded to the fish. “ I really don’t like seeing him suffer.”

Carlyle reached into the net and caught the fish by the mouth. After he extracted the hook, he slammed the fish against the side of the boat, killing it instantly. “ It’s a good-sized fish. One more like this should do it.”

Song reared back her arm to cast when his hand caught her wrist. “ Hold up. Let’s check the lure.”

“ Oh , right.”

She was eager to catch another and could hardly wait for Carlyle to make any adjustments. He put the fish in a basket and took the tiller as she got back to fishing. When she grew tired of standing, she sat on the roof with her legs dangling. The wind brushed past her like a gentle caress, the sun warming her, and the soft lap of water against the hull lulling her.

It no longer mattered how many times she cast the line or reeled in the lure. She had caught her first fish and somehow found a new hobby. It made sense that people fished all day. It wasn’t just thrilling when the fish bit, it was also relaxing in a way she had never experienced before.

All because Carlyle had put the rod in her hands and gave her a bit of praise.