Page 37

Brynla

I don’t get embarrassed very often, but the two most mortifying times have both involved Andor—him seeing me naked after the bath, and learning that I kissed him while I was drunk.

I could crawl under a rock. The moment he told me what I did last night, some memories came back.

I remember the strange pull I felt toward him, the urge to be incredibly shameless, to use the alcohol as fuel to test the waters.

I didn’t even know those were waters I truly wanted tested, and yet I was pulling out all my cards and he was doing his best to hold back.

He acted like a gentleman when that wasn’t what I wanted from him at all. I can’t be all that upset about it—perhaps I would have felt used and vulnerable otherwise.

I do remember the kiss, though.

I remember the low moan he gave, the slight tremble of his lips against mine, the easy yet hungry slide of his tongue. I believe he was joking when he told me it was the best kiss of his life, but even half-remembered, it was the best kiss of mine.

And then I remember the very hard, thick, and daunting feel of his cock when he pressed my palm against it, the fire that burned in his eyes when he asked if this felt like he didn’t want me, and I immediately feel my pulse quicken, the heat flashing between my legs.

Fuck.

I splash cold water over my face again and lean over the washbasin for a moment, trying to compose myself.

My physical wants and desires are going to have to go ignored for now.

I have to stay focused on the task at hand.

We’re going to the Dark City today. We’re going home.

And I have no idea what’s going to happen.

I’ll need to prepare for each and every scenario.

There’s a knock at the latrine’s door. “Brynla?”

It’s Andor.

I give myself one last look in the rusted, cloudy mirror hanging above the washbasin, glad that I can’t see my face all that well, and then take in a deep breath, opening the door.

His brows are furrowed, wrinkling his forehead and giving him a puppy-dog look. What a rotten time to start being so sexually attracted to him. “Are you all right?”

I nod. “Just getting nervous.”

His mouth twists in sympathy and I notice that the dragon-tooth necklace is on the outside of his shirt, which means he’s been fidgeting with it.

“We’re just about to drop anchor,” he says. “Toombs thought you might know of a good spot.”

I nod and step out of the cabin. “It’s all sand on this coast, he shouldn’t have a—”

Before I can finish my sentence, Andor lets out a little grunt and reaches out with both hands and cups my face in his palms before pulling me toward him.

He swiftly leans down and envelops my lips with his.

At first I press my hands against his chest in shock, prepared to push him away, but then I feel the hard muscles of his chest and the heat that’s flaring inside me, the sudden rush of desire taking flight, and I decide I don’t want to pretend anymore.

There’s no pretending for me after last night, anyway.

His kiss is possessive. It’s controlling and deep, a slow, hard melding of our lips, mouths parting in hunger, giving way to our tongues, stoking more and more heat, and I feel like I’m melting in his hands, as though if he didn’t have such a strong grip I’d be a puddle on the floor.

I feel him all the way to my toes, making them curl inside my boots, the rest of my body burning beautifully alive.

I want to do this forever.

I want this and so much more.

I dig my nails into his shirt and he presses me up against the wall until I feel every hard inch of him and suddenly the desire feels like it’s choking me, panicked and wild, and all I can think about is the feel of his tongue inside my mouth, as if he’s thoroughly fucking me, and that panting need that—

“All right,” he breathes as he breaks away, resting his damp forehead against mine, his eyes lazily focused on my lips. “Maybe that’s the best kiss I’ve ever had. It counts for more when you’re sober.”

I can’t even speak. It’s like he stole the air from my lungs and my words from my mind. I’m rendered brainless, boneless, unable to do anything but stare at his gorgeous face, feel the ghost of his lips on mine, and wish that he would do it again.

I want it more than anything.

“Andor!” Kirney shouts from above.

Andor lets out a low, impatient growl that matches the carnal intensity in his eyes, and my stomach twists giddily.

He turns his head. “On my way!” he yells, and then he looks back to me.

“I realize this may have not been the perfect time to do this,” he says.

“But I don’t know what lies ahead for us.

And, above all…I really fucking wanted to. ”

He turns, grabbing my hand, and leads me along to the stairs and up to the top deck and now all my unmet desires have been buried by total fear.

There was finality in that kiss, the idea that it was now or never because we don’t know what will happen next.

The kiss of someone who doesn’t know if they’ll come back alive.

“Maybe I should go on my own to the Dark City,” I tell him. “You stay on the ship. I’ll get my aunt and bring her back.”

He looks down at me as we step out on the top deck, the sun baking us in an instant now that we’re no longer out at sea. “I’m not letting you out of my sight for a minute,” he says gravely, giving my hand a firm squeeze.

“Because you don’t trust me,” I say. “You think I won’t return.”

“Because it doesn’t matter how well you know your city,” he says, his gaze hard. “This time you’re returning as someone who has worked for the Kolbecks. I don’t trust anyone around you.”

“You can trust my aunt.”

“I’m going to have to.”

“Brynla,” Toombs says, calling me over to the helm. I lock eyes with Andor for a moment and join the captain at his side. “I’m afraid I’ve never taken any ship this far south,” Toombs admits, rubbing at his chin. “Do you know of any reefs in the area? The charts aren’t very helpful…or trustworthy.”

I give him a reassuring smile. “Watch out for shoals when you get closer to shore, the tide can be drastic and unpredictable, but if you anchor here you should be fine. Are you staying on the ship?”

“Aye,” he says. “Tromson and I will stay behind and guard her. We can’t get very far without a ship and, no offense, but I don’t trust a Freelander as far as I can throw them.”

“None taken,” I tell him with a raise of my chin. “Trust here is earned and rarely given. If you were closer to the borderland canyons I would be more wary of raiders, but rarely does anyone come down this far unless they’re heading to the Midlands or Sorland.”

He leans in close and fixes me with a sharp eye. “And let me ask you, when it comes to Andor, has he earned your trust?”

His question throws me off guard. “I trust him,” I admit.

“And have you earned his?”

Ah. This is what he really wanted to ask me. Not about anchoring a ship.

“I know you care about him,” I say, “but I care about him too.”

“I can see you do, my lady, but that doesn’t mean he can trust you.

Doesn’t mean I can trust you either. I need that boy to return in one piece, preferably with you along with him.

But if for some reason you have a change of heart and wish to stay in the Dark City with your aunt, please just let Andor go.

Don’t get him involved. Make it easy for him to leave.

Sometimes he acts without thinking, and the last thing I want is for him to lose his life doing something silly to protect you or bring you back. ”

I’m touched at how much affection the grizzled captain has for Andor. In some ways it seems like the way a proper father-and-son relationship should be, much more sincere and honest than the one Andor has with his own father.

“I’m sure you won’t hold my promises to a high regard if you don’t hold my trust,” I say, “but I promise you that I will cut him loose if he at any point seems in danger.”

He stares at me for a moment, then nods and slaps me on the back. “Good. Now we just have to hope and pray he has the sense to listen.”

I let out a small laugh. “That might take more than a hope and a prayer.”

Lemi barks for my attention, and I look to the side of the ship where they are loading up the rowboat.

“Anchors down!” Toombs yells, and clanking and clattering sounds begin as Rolph and Tromson start lowering the anchor. I make my way over to Andor, Kirney, Feet, and Lemi at the boat.

“Are you ready?” Andor asks.

I nod, feeling strangely shy around him suddenly. It doesn’t seem real that moments earlier he had me pressed against the wall belowdecks and was kissing me.

Kissing me as if he doesn’t expect to return.

After talking to Toombs, I’m going to assume the whole crew thinks he’s heading on some sort of suicide mission.

I understand why they’re so paranoid too.

All the stories they must have been told about Freelanders and what goes on in the Banished Land, thanks to Soffers propaganda, has them thinking any outsider won’t survive.

But that’s not the case at all. Freelanders are outsiders by nature; that’s the whole reason we were banished to begin with.

We’re naturally suspicious of newcomers because the Black Guard will often infiltrate our networks, gathering information about some of Esland’s most wanted who are in hiding.

But even so, they’re usually easy to spot.

Andor, like the rest of us, is an outsider too. I think he’ll fit right in.

It’s my aunt I’m more worried about. And the fact that Andor mentioned that it might be known that I’m working for the Kolbecks. But other than House Dalgaard, I don’t think anyone will care, and it’s not as if anyone from that syndikat can just waltz into the underground unnoticed.

I take in a steadying breath, trying to stay positive, though that’s never been an easy feat, and I get in the boat, Lemi taking the easy route and shifting beside me.