Page 26 of Fate of Echoes and Embers (Heirs of Elydor #3)

ISSA

The sight of the king of Aetheria standing on the dock waving to me—to us—was never one I’d imagined in my lifetime. Then again, I’d never imagined kissing Marek again, so there was that unfortunate fact.

Not surprisingly, I could not get that kiss out of my mind.

When we broke our fast, I thought of it. As we said goodbye to the others, I could have closed my eyes and felt his lips still, if I’d wished. Every waking moment since last eve, I’d vacillated between chastising myself for encouraging it and wanting to feel that way again.

“Will you steer?” Marek asked as we cleared the bay, and I climbed up to the quarterdeck. “I’d like to trim the sails for open water.”

It was the first thing he’d said to me all day. Marek skipped the morning meal, as did Kael, so I assumed the two of them had been together.

“Trim the sails?”

“Adjusting them to optimize our speed based on wind direction. We trim sails by tightening or loosening lines to ensure they catch the wind properly.”

“Is that necessary if you channel the water?” I asked, taking the wheel, being careful to avoid physically touching him.

“Not necessarily, but it’s best not to rely on magic alone. The sea is unpredictable.”

He moved past me, saying nothing more. I watched as Marek worked, moving around the ship effortlessly. Not surprisingly, my mind wandered to last eve.

I had been unnecessarily harsh on Marek’s question about my innocence, as I thought about it later, one he’d asked out of respect.

His comment about my experience, was from jealousy.

One I had no right to judge after the incident with Cassandra.

But I’d been angry enough at myself for that kiss to lash out at him and told him as much when he returned.

“I should not have reacted as I did,” I said as Marek leaned against the railing, looking out to sea. Aetherian ships were a sight to behold.

His smirk nearly made me regret the apology.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I like to smile.”

“Marek, I am not jesting.”

“Neither am I. But if you’d like me to, I am happy to accommodate the activity you mentioned last eve.”

He was impossible. But at least I was spared from further explanation. Telling him I was angry at myself for giving in after promising never to fall for Marek’s charm again was not something I relished doing.

“Thank you, but I will kindly pass on your offer.”

“When living on a ship,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to another, “tempers often run high. It does little good to dwell on such things.”

“You are saying I am temperamental.”

His eyes widened. “I did not mean?—”

Smiling, I waited for him to realize I had been jesting myself.

When he did, Marek shook his head and turned toward the bow.

Whatever he was about to say would have to wait.

I’d seen that look on his face before and though there was no storm on the horizon that I could see, either one was brewing or something was amiss.

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” he said.

I did, waiting.

“What do you feel?”

I assumed he meant a change in the wind direction, but it wasn’t that. “Nothing?”

“Is there a breeze?”

I tried to sense for one.

“Not really.”

“Now, take a deep breath. What do you smell?”

I did that too. “The sea air?”

“Anything else?”

“Salt and brine and…” I could not place the other scent.

“Something faintly metallic?”

I nodded my head. “Aye.”

“Open your eyes.”

When I did, Marek was watching me closely. I tried not to look at his lips.

“Look up. What don’t you see?”

“No sun?” I guessed.

“It hasn’t been sunny all day. What’s missing that was in the sky earlier?”

Of course. “Gulls. In fact, there are no birds whatsoever.”

The way Marek smiled, as if he was proud of me for guessing correctly, should not have made me feel as if I had single-handedly somehow saved Hawthorne myself.

“A storm is brewing,” he said. “Though the signs are subtle. Hold the wheel while I prepare.”

He was off again, and while I watched him, as the sky darkened, I realized I had no trepidation being alone here at the helm. Perhaps I should, having such little experience. But instead, a sense of power and fearlessness settled over me.

Also settling over me was a deluge of rain. It came so suddenly, I had no time to prepare, not that I could have done so anyway. Marek returned, telling me to head below deck, but I refused, wanting to navigate the storm, which we did, together.

As Tidechaser swayed from side to side, we sailed through increasingly large waves.

Some, Marek dampened with magic. Others, he did not.

I realized at some point he was playing with the sea, and we were never in any real danger.

Even so, as day wore into night, I refused to budge, enjoying every moment, laughing as Marek harnessed the rain, making droplets appear as if they were racing each other.

It wasn’t until the storm began to abate and my human needs reminded me I wasn’t immortal that I finally relented. I had dried off, changed, and eaten, and now sat in my cabin— Marek’s cabin—wondering if I should go back above when a knock at the door startled me enough that I bound off the bed.

When I opened it, Marek stood there, drenched.

“I accidentally left my satchel on deck,” he said, nodding to the trunk in the corner of his quarters. “I will be quick to fetch dry clothing.”

I handed him a drying cloth and watched as Marek bent down to open the trunk.

“You did well up there. Remarkably well.”

“Thank you,” I said as he pulled out dry clothing and stood.

When our eyes met, the question that had run through my mind all eve, and most of the days, accidentally popped out of my mouth.

“What if… we had not stopped.”

Marek’s smile deepened. “If we’d not stopped, Issa, your virginity might no longer be a bargaining chip.”

Say it. Say what you’ve been thinking.

“But the… other things?” I could not continue. “Never mind,” I said, hurrying to the door. “As you said, last eve was a mistake. I should not?—”

I was spun around so quickly, it took me a moment to regain my footing.

“It would be an even bigger mistake to let you go.”

And with that, Marek’s mouth slammed down on mine.

It was nothing like the other two kisses.

This one was raw and untamed, like the sea itself.

He was still wet, but as our bodies pressed against each other, I didn’t care about that.

Or the repercussions of our past. As his mouth slanted across mine, Marek’s tongue tangling with my own, I took his cues.

Leaning into his hands as they explored, I tentatively did the same. How often had I watched him about the ship and wondered what it would feel like to touch his arms as he swung from the rigging?

One moment, he was kissing me. The next, Marek had pulled away and was unbuttoning his shirt, now plastered to his body.

“What are you doing?”

His roguish smile was so very… Marek.

“I’m getting you wet,” he said, peeling his shirt from his body.

I sucked in a breath, seeing him this way for the first time. Marek was so perfectly formed, I couldn’t not help but stare.

“Have you touched a man like this before?” he asked, taking my hand and placing it on his chest.

I shook my head, unable to speak. He took my other hand and did the same, never breaking eye contact.

“Do you remember when you said there were other ways to find pleasure?”

Oh god, the feel of him. The sound of his voice, deep and suggestive…

“I do.”

“Do you know what those ways are, Issa?”

“Not precisely.”

He closed the distance between us, his devilish smile irresistible. “Let me show you.”

With that, he kissed me again, but this time, my fingers brushed his bare shoulders as Marek’s kiss began as a soft touch to quickly intensify into a raging inferno.

His hands explored, as mine did, tugging my shirt from its breeches.

Sliding his hand up to find the laces at my neckline and loosening them with one hand, his fingers grazed my skin.

As the kiss deepened, he pushed the linen shirt off my shoulders, letting it slip down my arms. Only a thin chemise separated our bodies as he pressed closer. A murmur escaped from deep within me, and something seemed to snap in him at the sound.

“Issa,” he said against my mouth, the slow, deliberate movements of his hands becoming impatient as he tore off my wide, leather belt and worked open the laces of my breeches. Before I knew what he was about, Marek’s hand slipped between us to the most intimate part of my body.

With no time for shock, his tongue working magic and making my head spin, his finger was there.

“Marek,” I gasped as he slipped it inside me.

“I’m not the only one wet in this cabin,” he said, as if his hand was not… there!

“What are you?—”

My words were cut off by his slow movement, in and out, a second finger now joining the first. My eyes widened as he moved, a knowing smile plastered on his face.

I’d never felt anything remotely like it before. Shoving away the embarrassment that threatened to dampen the experience, I let myself go, just as I’d done above deck in the storm. Marek had a way of making me forget all of the constraints of normal society, and maybe I would regret it later.

But not now.

“That’s my sereia,” he whispered, capturing me in an all-consuming kiss.

His tongue flicked against mine as his fingers mimicked the same movements below.

Suddenly, the scandalousness of what was happening flooded me all at once, but oddly, I was no longer embarrassed.

What was so wrong about finding pleasure?

And what he was doing was very pleasurable.

I held onto his bare arms, feeling his muscles twitching as his hand moved. A building inside me, unlike anything I’d ever experienced, threatened to drown every other sensation. I moaned, the sound not at all familiar, even to my own ears.

In response, he circled his thumb against me while continuing the deliciously tortuous ministrations until I could not possibly hold on any longer. With a flick of his tongue, and his thumb, everything inside me began to tense and coil like the ropes I’d found him asleep on.

And then, it exploded. I couldn’t even continue our kiss, pulling away and throbbing against his fingers. It was as if there were too many pleasurable sensations at once, if such a thing were possible.

He wasn’t smiling now.

Marek stared deep into my eyes, his lips parted… watching.

I breathed heavily, as if I’d just run through the woods, unable to continue. His fingers were still there, inside me as I pulsed against him. Then, ever so slowly, he pulled them from me and did something even more shocking.

Taking one finger to his lips, he licked it, that ever-present smile returning.

I blinked, trying to process all that was happening.

“Tastes as sweet as I expected,” he said. “Now how about I do that one more time? With my tongue.”