Page 16 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

Solomon’s jaw tightens, but he nods.

My own muscles grow rigid at the declaration, my voice flat. Beneath the cloak, my hand reaches for my arm, scratching at my wrist, my nails digging into the skin.

“She can stay with us.” Esmeray is watching me closely. I wonder what she sees. “You need the—”

“No.” Callan’s voice brooks no argument. He lifts the glass lantern he carried above deck. “It’s fine, Smee. Let it be.”

He sweeps out a hand. “This way.”

Slowly, I move past him. My stomach churns further as I glance over my shoulder.

Merrick opens his mouth, but closes it again when Esmeray shakes her head, her curls bouncing lightly.

Their eyes all follow as Callan leads me away from the deck, toward another door set into the opposite side of the deck from the way we came in.

“Other side is storage. The galley, for cooking. We use this side for sleeping arrangements.”

Cold. So cold. “Fine. Is there a bathing room?”

He snorts in clear amusement. “There is. But I’m afraid water is rationed – we have to make what we have last until we get across the Never. There’s a small allocation for washing.”

Dread licks up my spine at his words, but I steel myself.

It’s just water. It doesn’t matter. Instead, I focus on his words. “The Never?”

Callan pauses at that. His brow knots as he turns to me. “You haven’t… never mind. You’ll see. We’ll reach it in a few days.”

We head down a small set of steps. The narrow, dark hall is lit by a single lantern, and I follow as Callan strides down it. “That’s Merrick and Leo’s room. Smee and Rio share this one. And this is us.”

He swings open a dark wooden door. The room is bigger than I expected. Several framed windows look out into the darkness, a battered desk in front of them. There are boxes in here too, piled up against the walls.

My eyes skate past those, to the bed big enough for two. The white sheets are rumpled into careless heaps, and Callan sighs. His cheeks look a little darker as he ducks past me. “I’ll tidy this up.”

“There’s no need to clean on my account.” Turning away from the bed, I grip my elbows tightly and walk into the center of the room. The bed has been pushed back against the wall, a cracked dark leather chair beside it. The queasiness grows stronger. “May I refresh myself?”

He nods to a small door at the side of the room. “By all means. There’s a small jug of water you can use.”

I can feel his eyes on my back as I push the door open and slip through, closing it behind me and pressing my back against it.

The room is small, an iron tub against the wall taunting me since it’s filled with packages.

I take a few minutes to refresh before standing in front of the mirror.

My reflection, distorted and cracked, stares back at me.

The soap smells a little spicy. Familiar, but not something I can name.

Grabbing a cloth from the hook, I pour a small amount of water from the jug into the bowl and shed my cloak as well as the silk and gauze I wore beneath it, leaving my skin bare to the cool air.

Starting with my arms, I scrub anywhere and everywhere I can reach.

My heartbeat climbs until I can hear it once more, a pounding drum to the thoughts in my head.

Whatever he wants, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

Better to be here than back there.

Whatever he wants, it’s not something I haven’t already given, many times over.

Is there anything left to give?

There is not enough water to assuage the growing unease, and I toss the cloth down with a frustrated huff before gripping the basin’s edges.

The cough on the other side of the door makes me straighten.

“Are you alive in there?” Callan sounds amused. “I really wouldn’t recommend trying to climb through the head if you’re attempting an escape. Much more pleasant to jump off the side.”

My mouth twists in disgust as I stare over to the corner. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

“No rush.”

I glare over my shoulder at the door. “Your interruption suggests that there is a rush.”

“Not at all.” Definite amusement. “Take whatever time you need.”

“How kind of you.” My mutter is quiet, but I still hear him laugh.

It grates at me, that laugh. Enough that I twist, yanking the door open and storming out. I don’t look at him at all as I make for the bed, my bare feet slamming into the wooden floor.

Silence follows me.

“How do you want it, then?” I gesture tightly to the now tidy sheets. “On my knees? Or my back?”

I turn back to face him. Callan sits in the chair, his face shadowed. But his hand is gripping the arm so tightly that his knuckles are white. “Selene—,”

I don’t look away.

Let him see me.

Let it be this between us and nothing else—a transaction, a demand. I have never looked at a male with anything but coldness. Never pushed an invitation into soft, purring words, never glanced over a shoulder with a curl of my finger.

I have never put on a show. Politeness is the most I could ever bring myself to offer, and only when I needed the funds to pay off Boralas.

And it has never mattered.

The only thing I can control is myself. That is what matters. What keeps my soul from breaking apart completely.

My words are steady, my tone even. Detached. “Most seem to prefer it from behind. You can hold onto my wings that way. It seems to add some sort of excitement—”

“ Stop .”

Beneath my feet, the world shifts. Enough that I stagger to my left before I find my balance, steadying myself against the bedpost. “I’d prefer to get it over with, if I even get a say. I’m tired.”

I am so, so tired.

The room roils again. Several boxes, stacked high against the wall, slip free of their binding. One crashes to the ground, splitting and sending a sack of what looks like grain scattering across the floor, thousands of pale seeds pouring out.

“Fuck.” At the harsh mutter, I flinch back.

Callan gets to his feet, black-laced boots crunching against the spilled food as he stalks directly through it.

His fingers drop to his leather coat, yanking at the buttons before he shrugs it off.

It leaves him in only a cream linen shirt, the laces undone at his throat.

My body braces. Waiting. For the demand, or the punishment.

But he doesn’t even look at me.

The leather is warm as he wraps it around my shoulders, pulling the edges together without touching my bare skin. He’s broader than I am, but it barely fits, even with my wings bound.

The room is silent, the faint undulation of the waves against the ship our only accompaniment.

He doesn’t stop until I’m covered.

The faint, spiced scent of the soap I used to wash rises up from the leather. It reminds me of the oudh I was gifted once by a Master long before Johan, only to lose the precious scent to Boralas when he learned of it.

And only then do I feel his eyes. They skate my face, and no lower. “Nobody will touch you on this ship.”

Lips parting, I jerk my gaze up to meet his. And his eyes—it looks almost as though they’re on fire, the bronze flaring brightly in molten movement.

His words come slowly. Low, but no less heated for it. They strike against my skin like sparks. “You do not need to barter yourself for shelter, or food, or human decency. Not here.”

“I thought—”

“Then you were wrong .”

He snaps the last word, and I shrink back, my feet landing on the grains and digging into my skin. The edges of the leather slip from his fingers, and a low sound of anger rumbles in his throat. “Get into bed. Sleep. I’ll clean this up.”

Perhaps it’s the floor, still shifting beneath me, that has me so off-balance. “I can help.”

“It’s fine.” He shoulders past me, toward the door. I stay where I am, clutching his coat and staring blankly at the chair he just vacated.

Nobody will touch you on this ship.

His voice sounds from behind me. Quiet, but steady. “I have never needed to force my way into a female’s bed. I do not intend to start now.”

“Understood.” My voice is hoarse. “What—what do I do, then? While I’m here?”

The dark, heavy thrum of his anger softens the air around me, but only a little.

I can still sense it—his displeasure like a prickle against my skin.

“We pull our weight on Volatus . You’ll be given work to do.

But not—not that. I’ll be back to clean up, but nobody else will enter.

Get into the bed, Selene. Nobody else will be joining you in it, least of all me. ”

When I don’t move or say anything, he sighs. “The door will be locked, just in case you should get the urge to wander.”

My mouth opens, but the heavy slam of the door and the turning of a key tells me any discussion is finished.