Page 43 of The Redd Key (Bone Coven #1)
F aint dripping echoed deep within the adjacent tunnel, its rhythm syncing with my heartbeat as I stood before Cole. The energy between us felt much like that between a deer and a wolf. If I moved or looked away, I’d expose myself as prey, so I held his gaze hard, unwavering. The challenge was enrapturing, and my mind wrestled with whether I felt empowered or if I was entirely dimwitted to confront a man who was not only twice my size but had also kidnapped me and held me captive. My mouth spoke before I could even register the words that spilled out.
“Why do you keep all of these stolen artifacts down here?” I broke my stare and looked around the room. He barked with laughter so loud it echoed off the stone walls around us, and I flinched.
Catching sight of my reaction, he replied, “You’re frightened? The fiercest Storm in centuries is scared?” Amusement lit his eyes like a flash of lightning and I rapidly grew sick of his poetry. Suddenly, his face grew severe, and his smile faded as if it had never even been there in the first place. “This place is a safe keep for everything I hold dear.” He placed a finger under my chin and tilted my face to meet his. His skin was rough and calloused, and the spot he touched radiated as if the locket was lying there. My mouth parted to yell at him, spit at him, do something—but I did nothing. His eyes shot down at my subtle twitch, and then lingered on my lips. “You will not mistreat any of it.” His thumb smoothed across my bottom lip, and I gasped at him doing so. The way he looked at me, with his scent so close to me…I was swimming in mahogany, jasmine, and something smokey that I couldn’t place. It did something to me, something I refused to admit to myself. Regardless, the moment he looked away and walked to the center of the trove, my chest deflated, and instead of relief, there was disappointment.
That didn’t make any sense. My teeth tugged at my bottom lip, and my brows furrowed as I watched his back. He leaned over the table with both hands planted on its smooth surface. For a moment, he dropped his head, his shoulders rising with a deep sigh before he turned to face me. Cole leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. The sleeves of his white Henley were rolled up, revealing his tanned, tattooed arms. In the flickering candlelight, it was difficult to decipher the artwork. He watched me, and I watched him. I felt trapped, not because I was imprisoned, but because my senses were hyper aware. I felt the energy in the room, and the Aecor within me, waver. I wanted to ask him if he felt it too, but I was afraid I’d throw up if I opened my mouth. A muscle twitched in his jaw before he spoke.
“I do not expect you to understand. But this,” he gestured to the cavern before him, “holds everything that matters…everything I fought so hard to protect.” The intensity of the power between us was settling, steady like the tide at its lowest. It was almost tangible.
“I do understand.” My voice was husky from a slew of emotion. I went to step forward but hesitated. “My collection isn’t nearly as valuable as this, but I do rescue heirlooms, history , from being abandoned and forgotten.” I inhaled sharply as realization hit me. “Is that why I’m here?” My anger spiked yet again. “Are you keeping me here for my collection? Is that what this is?” I stepped away from the wall and moved closer to the cell door, which he had left open. My stomach churned, and my heart began to race. I forced myself to keep my sight on him, as I tried to act natural, silently calculating if I could escape before he’d reach me. “You really think my collection is worth kidnapping me over? You think I’m worth it?”
“Yes,” he simply said, pushing away from the table. I stopped breathing, thinking he was coming toward me. Instead, he reached for a book on the edge of the table. He flicked through it quickly, then tossed it aside. “You are.” His words, spoken casually, sent a slight jolt through me. I merely meant the worth of my collection, but the way he addressed me directly erupted a fluttering feeling through me. Confusion won out the anger.
“What does that even mean?” I grumbled, but he only sauntered among the treasures. His fingers grazed the carvings of a marble bust; a man with piercing eyes and a knowing expression. Then, he lifted an ornately crafted magnifying glass and placed it back down.
“It has been decades since I have been down here,” he spoke in a hushed tone, lost in the objects and memories. What did that even mean? Wasn’t he like late-twenties? Thirty at most. His entire presence was weathered, likely from the long days on his boat and at the docks. There was something beautiful about how it aged him—nautical and nostalgic. Hard work was etched into every crease, and it was curiously comforting. “What have you decided is your favorite piece?” he mused, pulling me from my thoughts.
The journal— I read it nearly cover to cover. In the diary, S.B. wrote down details from each day for almost an entire year. Some daily entries were only a single line long, while others stretched to a dozen pages long. Each day, however, was soaked in betrayal and heartbreak. Though it was never bespoken, I could sense his despair between the words and within the scratches made by the quill.
“That map.” I raised a hand to point at the partially unfurled parchment strewn across the far end of the table. “Specifically, the compass rose–”
“It is a favorite of mine as well.” He exhaled sharply as if the revelation annoyed him. He walked over to examine the map more closely, becoming lost in thought. A long finger traced the length of the illustrated coastline. “If you were not aware, this was quite the treacherous journey.” His half smile didn’t match his eyes when he turned to me, the table now between us. Had he traveled the same path as those explorers all those years ago? I asked as much. “Explorers? No, there was not any exploration.” He placed his hands on the surface and leaned over the map. Cole shook his head slowly. “It was all a waste of time.” He looked to his right and scrunched up his face as if an unwanted memory had come to the surface. “This is all that is left, outside of a fraction that I believe is housed somewhere in Massachusetts.”
“I found the nameplate,” I revealed, and his eyes shot to mine. “The Whydah sank hundreds of miles from here. As you said, only a fraction of the treasure was recovered after hundreds of years. So how do you have all of this, especially the nameplate, when the ship is still at the bottom of the ocean?” Cole was looking at me like he had never seen me before. His mouth hung open, then snapped it closed. He drew a calloused hand through his hair as he stood straighter.
Slowly, he laced out a silver chain from his pocket until the locket swung loose from his fingers. My eyes widened, and I felt an intense tug from the middle of my chest. I had grown so attached to the necklace that looking at it now in his hands felt like heartache. I felt empty like there was a void that would never again be filled. I needed that locket, and I needed to get out, away from him. All this conversation became too comfortable, too distracting. The door was open…this was my chance to get out.
But the locket.
“I found a journal, too.” I spat out, unsure how my words could possibly be weaponized, wielded against him. However, something instinctively told me it was the right thing to say to obtain the locket. Cole stilled in a way that sent chills through me, and I immediately realized I had made a mistake.
Cole shoved the locket back into his pocket and rushed toward me within three strides. I stumbled backward, falling onto the settee. Pinning me underneath him, he braced one hand on the wall above my head and the other under my chin, the pressure nearly painful.
“Where is it?” he growled. His irises were dark obsidian. I couldn’t focus on his words; the thigh he wedged between my legs secured me in place, and it was distracting . If I weren’t terrified of this maniac murdering me any second and stealing my life’s work, I probably would have let my mind wander into one of those scenes from a spicy book I’ve read before—which I definitely wasn’t thinking about at this precise moment. “Tell me.” The man was pure anger. His chest heaved, defining the muscles behind the fabric of his shirt. His alluring scent made my head spin in a twistedly pleasant way. My hand twitched on the cushion, and his eyes darted in the direction. Whether I was going to reach for the journal or grab the locket and run, I wasn’t sure. Cole’s fingers left my chin , and he grabbed my wrist. “Tell me,” he demanded.
“Th–There’s a space in the wall,” I said too quietly, pathetically. “Behind me, it’s tucked back there.” Cole’s eyes never left mine as he leaned even closer into me and reached. His chest pressed against mine, and friction from the way his thigh moved against me sent an electrifying jolt of heat through my body. My cheeks flushed at the contact and the shame that it brought. This was not a situation where I should want that sort of touch. Cole’s lip curled, displaying a sly smirk as he figured out what my squirming meant.
“Raina,” he purred my name, bending his head down further. He inhaled the scent of my hair, his lips brushing against my ear, and a shiver ran through me. “Where are your manners?” His nose trailed down the side of my neck and back up to the space below my ear. “You are supposed to ask permission before touching someone else’s things .”