Page 44

“Rowenya!” I hear Grayson’s voice boom like the thunder surrounding us, but I can’t see him.

Oh gods, I can’t see him!

Heat lashes at my face and I steel myself for the blow that I know will take my life.

Then, a wave hits me hard from the side and I’m falling, falling, falling until . . .

Oomph . My body slams against something hard and I feel my teeth clamor together and a sharp pain pierces through my shoulder. I try to scream out as another bolt of pain lashes through my back, but I can’t breathe. Thunder rolls again and the white light blinks out, replaced with darkness.

I feel a weight lift from my chest and I suck in a long breath.

“Rowenya!” I hear Grayson say my name again and I open my eyes to find his beautiful face dimmed with worry. “Rowenya, are you okay? Talk to me. Say something.” There’s a crack in his voice that burrows into my heart.

That’s when I realize it’s his weight I feel against me and not the crushing hands of death here to claim me.

“Yes,” I rasp. “I think so.”

Slowly, Grayson helps me sit up. I squeeze my eyes shut against the throbbing in my head and wince.

“You’re not okay.” He cups my face and when I look at him, he’s assessing every part of me for injuries. “Where does it hurt?” His words sound like he’s under water, muffled through the heavy rain.

Bringing my palm to the center of my forehead, I push hard to release the pressure threatening to split my skull. “My head.”

“Shit.” He moves my hand and replaces it with his own. The strength he uses to press against my forehead eases the pressure. “The fall must have rattled you too much. I’m so sorry, Little Pearl.”

“Don’t be,” I whisper, grasping onto his forearm as a wave of nausea rolls over me. “You saved my life.” If he had not pushed me out of the way, my corpse would be smoking on the beach.

Looking up at him under the cover of his hand, I see him glance over his shoulder then back up to the sky. Lightning crashes all around us and it’s only a matter of time before another strike gets close.

“We need to get to the boat.” The urgency in his voice makes my heart thud against my chest. I was lucky once already and I don’t think luck will be on my side twice if we don’t get out of this storm and onto the shelter of his ship.

“Let me try to stand.”

“Not a chance.” There’s no room for negotiating with him. “Keep the pressure on your forehead.”

I do as I’m told and cringe as the pain lashes out behind my eyes, but it starts to ebb a little when I press harder.

I watch Grayson from the corner of my eye reach for my discarded coat in the sand and place it over my shoulders.

As he stands, he grabs the pack I was carrying and slings it over his shoulder.

“Ready?” he asks, a deep furrow creasing the center between his brows.

“Yes.”

Leaning down, he slips his arms beneath my back and legs and lifts me with stunning ease, but the movement ignites a fire in my shoulder and I cry out.

Grayson brings me close to his chest and I feel the wet touch of his lips against my ear.

“I know, Little Pearl. I know it hurts. Just hang on a little while longer.”

I cling to his words like they’re life itself and try to drown out the hurt as I focus on the sound of raindrops hitting the shoulders of his leather coat when he starts moving back toward the water.

The pain in my head slowly starts to ease as the roar of crashing waves grows louder than the rain.

“What happened to her?” someone asks and I peel my eyes open. I find Zaos knee deep in the water, the longboat and three other members of Grayson’s crew keeping it from washing ashore.

“A lightning strike nearly took her and when I pushed her out of the way, she fell hard on the sand. She’s concussed.”

“I’m fine,” I croak and Grayson peers down at me.

“You most certainly are not fine.”

“We need to get back to the ship,” Zaos says. “These wind patterns are the perfect breeding ground for waterspouts.”

A chill runs down my spine despite Grayson’s warm body pressed against mine. He may be strong and fast, but there is nothing he could do to protect me against a damned waterspout.

“Let’s go,” Grayson says to Zaos as he starts moving further into the water.

“I can walk,” I tell him.

“I know you can.” He looks down at me with a smile that caresses my heart. “But that doesn’t mean you should.”

“Overprotective bastard.”

“Yes, I think we’ve established that already. No reason to rehash it now.”

“Your men are going to think I’m weak if you don’t let me walk on my own.”

“They will think no such thing.”

I huff in protest.

A wave splashes against Grayson’s strong legs, but he doesn’t waver.

Not even an inch. Rain keeps pouring down on us and I squint up toward the sky where streams of lightning flash across it.

The brightness makes my head pound again, but not quite as bad as before.

Though my shoulder feels like it’s being ripped from the socket with every step Grayson takes.

Violent waves run in various directions from the undercurrent the storm’s winds have wound up.

Grayson is right—I would have made it to the longboat, but with the pain in my head and shoulder, and the height of the waves, it would have taken me forever, threatening not only my life, but his and his men’s too.

“Thank you,” I mutter shakily, the cold of the rain sinking to my bones.

He whips his head to the side, dispelling some water from his eyes. “For what?”

“Saving my life.” I clamp my lips together to keep my teeth from chattering.

Grayson looks down at me and my breath catches. His dark brows frame his stunning eyes that rival the ominous beauty echoing around us. Where they are usually a rich sapphire blue, they’ve shifted to a molten grey, but those same specks of starlight still reflect back at me.

There’s a softness to his face that seems to grow every time I look at him—bits of that stony mask slipping away.

How we ended up here, I do not know. It was not that long ago when I watched him from afar, wreaking havoc like the blight staining the city of Esoros. He was cold and dangerous and the last person I ever wanted to cross paths with.

And now . . .

There are no words to describe the pull in my heart to be near him. Even through the ache in my battered body, I would rather his every step cause me pain than to be parted from him.

Cold water surges over his waist, spilling over my side and across my stomach as another wave rolls past us. A horrendous shiver wracks my entire body and I have to clamp my teeth together to keep them from chattering.

The longboat is close—only a few feet away now. I pray for the dry bench to sit on.

The churning ocean rocks it back and forth and I recognize two of Grayson’s men trying to hold it in place.

Collin—the one who stood watch outside our room when I tried to escape—and Fletcher.

I haven’t had many interactions with Fletcher, but he must be one of Grayson’s most trusted crew members, because I remember hearing that he was the one who organized the resupply of the Caelestia over dinner the other night.

“Steady the longboat!” Grayson shouts to his men.

Collin and Fletcher push down on the sides to steady it and once Zaos gets to it, he does the same.

I’m nearly convulsing from the cold water as Grayson lifts me up over the side and sets me onto the bench in the middle.

I scoot toward the other side as he swings the packs inside, a spray of water shooting upward from them as he does.

He waits for the next swell to pass before he lifts himself into the boat, Zaos follows right after him.

Grayson sits on the bench in front of me and Zaos moves to the back.

They both grab the oars, flattening the paddles against the waves to steady the boat as Collin and Fletcher jump in at the same time, ensuring neither of them tip us over.

A dark haze claws at the edge of my vision and I feel myself growing nauseous again.

I’m not sure if my body sways from the rolling waves beneath the longboat or if it’s from the aching pulse in my head, but I focus on Grayson’s face and the movements of his arms as he starts to row, calling out commands to his men.

Another strike of lightning crashes to the left of us and the bright light sends a bolt of pain through my head.

“Faster!” Grayson yells above the thunderous boom that follows.

Pulling my coat tighter around my aching shoulders, I sink into myself, grasping for any sense of warmth that will ward away the chill in my bones.

But it’s no use. The rain keeps coming and the white caps of the waves splash into the boat and over my legs.

Goosebumps rise along my flesh that I fear might become permanent.

At some point, I start to lose my focus on Grayson. Then, I hear his voice break through the deafening downpour that surrounds us. “Eyes on me, Rowenya. I need you to stay awake. We’re almost there. Just keep your eyes on me.”

Peeling my eyelids open feels like a feat.

They’re so, so heavy and all I want to do is sleep, but I cling to the sight of Grayson’s face.

Grounding myself, I let my gaze roam over every facet of the sharp angles that line his strong jaw.

Then, I move upward to the curves of his cheeks.

The jagged line of his scar is an angry shade of pink, likely from the cold wind that continues to whip around us.

And . . . my eyelids droop, their weight growing immeasurably heavy.

Jolting upright, I fight to keep them open.

“We’re almost there,” he says, but I don’t have the strength to turn around and see for myself. The longboat rocks violently back and forth, making the nausea crawling up my throat worse.