Page 35 of The Sea Witch’s Son (The Villains of Wolf Hollow #1)

Chapter 34

MELODY

My mother slides under the covers.

Even in my drowsy state, I can smell the blood on her skin. The dampness of her cheeks from the waterfall of tears she just cried out.

Warm arms wrap around me, and I snuggle into them, trying to remember the last time she came to hide in my room.

“You can’t keep doing this.” I whisper, trying to keep the volume low so my father won’t hear, “You can’t keep putting me through this. It’s not fair.”

She stays silent.

“I know you’re scared, but we can leave him. Pack a suitcase and run as far as we can.” My breath catches, “Erik will help us. He’s a good man. You just have to be strong enough to take his offer.”

“And what was his offer, exactly? ”

The male voice reverberates in my ear and my eyes snap wide open.

Flinging myself out of bed, I stumble onto the rickety floor, scrambling to find the closest weapon. Marlin watches me in amusement, his eyes crinkling when he sees the candle holder clutched between my hands.

“No scissors this time?”

“What are you doing here?” Hissing the words, I shoot a glance at the closed door, “How the fuck are you getting inside?”

Marlin grabs my pillow and props it beneath his head.

“I have a key.”

“You... what?”

“A spare, although they really should give you a replacement.” He lets out a sigh, “And I’m here to make sure you don’t die from secondary drowning.”

I stare at him, candle holder still in hand.

“Did you really think I would have gone to all that trouble just to let you suffocate in your sleep? That would have been a terrible waste of effort on my end.”

My eyes narrow, “Why are you in my bed?”

“You looked lonely.”

“Get out.”

“I’m tired, little saint.” He looks at me from beneath long lashes, “Even bad men need sleep.”

“Then go home. ”

“I can’t.” Another long sigh, “Not until I know you will make it through the night.”

I hate the feeling his words put in my chest.

“I’m breathing. Your job is done.”

“Can you not be difficult for once?” Tired eyes flutter down, “It’s just one night, little saint. I’ll go back to being your villain in the morning.”

It’s a mistake, but I make it anyway.

Setting the candle holder down on my nightstand, I slowly crawl back under the covers. Marlin immediately pulls me closer, tucking me against his chest and folding me in a blanket of his body heat.

The smooth glide of his skin presses against my back and I let out a shriek.

“Why are you naked ?!”

“I wasn’t about to sleep in my dress pants.”

“Where is your underwear?” Shifting in his arms, I try to wiggle away, “Go put your boxers back on.”

Those stupidly muscular arms pull me back against him, trapping me in place with an equally muscular leg.

“I don’t wear underwear.”

The whispered confession sends a flush to my cheeks. Awareness buzzes through my body as Marlin crushes me against his very hard, very naked body.

Now is not the time to get turned on.

But fuck, if his dick doesn’t feel good pressed against my ass .

“Marlin.” There’s a growl in my voice, “Get out of my bed and go put some clothes on.”

“A tempting offer, but I am rather comfortable.”

He slips a hand under my t-shirt, resting it carefully against the tender skin. His other arm sneaks under my pillow, propping my head up and giving me a clear shot of the tattoo peeking out the other side.

Squinting against the darkness, I study the waves unfurling along his forearm.

When I first saw Marlin’s tattoo, I thought it was a boat sailing over treacherous waves, battling the ocean for control. But now that I can see the details of the ship, the splintered mast and the ripped sails, I realize it’s not a sailboat at all.

It’s a shipwreck.

“What does your tattoo mean?”

He shifts behind me, rotating his arm and exposing an anchor hidden within the waves lapping at his wrist. A faint line streaks through the furious ocean, trapping the boat in the sand below.

“What do you think it means?”

I reach out and touch the wave closest to me, “Your father was a sailor. He never made it home.”

“Intriguing, but not accurate.”

I frown, “But he was a sailor.”

“Was he?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

“I’m afraid I do not know the answer.” He hums thoughtfully, “Or maybe I do, and I do not wish to share it. ”

God. He's beyond infuriating.

Gritting my teeth, I force my eyes closed and tell myself to fall asleep. The sooner morning comes, the sooner he’ll be gone.

“What will you give me in return?”

A shiver runs down my spine. Prying my eyes open, the shipwreck is the first thing I see.

A boat being torn apart by the rage of the sea.

“What do you want?” I whisper, unsure of whether I want to know the answer.

“Your voice.” He presses a kiss against the back of my neck, “I want to hear your voice. Sing for me.”

My lungs seize, frozen by an emotion a thousand times stronger than fear.

“I-I can’t.”

“A piece of you for a piece of me. Seems like a fair trade.”

“No deal.” I can barely swallow, “You’re asking for too much.”

He sighs heavily, “Maybe you’re right. I will give you two questions, and in return you will sing for me.”

My breathing is coming faster, the weight of my missing voice bearing down on me.

“I can’t.”

“You can , little saint. You simply choose not to.” The hand resting on my stomach presses down, “I will even let you pick the song. ”

Every panicked breath pushes against the palm of his hand. He captures each one, following the movement in and out of my body.

It feels like he’s choking me. Forcing me to breathe just so he can take it away again.

Helping me in the most twisted way possible.

“Why?” The word barely makes it past my lips.

“Because I want to hear the sweet sound of a siren.”

No, it’s because you want to steal another piece of me.

He clears his throat, “My tattoo is a reminder. That passion is a man’s greatest downfall.”

I blink, slowly rolling over to face him, “Do you really believe that?”

“I would not have gotten it permanently stamped on my body if I didn’t.”

I bite my lip, picturing the scene on his forearm. It’s beautiful and violent, but there is a sense of sadness. A smidgen of grief hidden beneath the untouchable layers.

“So, your father was a sailor?”

“I’m afraid you’ve run out of questions, little saint.” Perfect teeth flash in the dark, “It’s time you held up your end of the bargain.”

My mouth opens and closes.

“You tricked me.”

“I offered two questions, and you asked two questions.” He tilts his head, “A deal is a deal. Your turn.”

Panic starts to well up inside me .

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, little saint. Time to sing.”

He’s looking at me expectantly, and all I can feel is the lock clamped tight around my throat. The need to remain silent and the desire to sing clash against one another, forcing the harmony to clump and tangle together.

“I can’t.”

He sighs heavily, “You’re being difficult again.”

“No.” My throat starts to close, “You don’t understand.”

“Sing for me.”

He leaves no room for argument.

Desperation wells up as I suck in a gust of air. My lungs expand in a painfully familiar way, the music box inside waiting for a turn.

The desire is there, but not the sound. I can feel the hollowness as I open my mouth, trying to coax the lid to release a song.

Nothing. Not a sound.

Marlin watches me quietly, watching me suffocate and die for the second time tonight.

“I can’t sing.” The words are barely a whisper, “Not without her.”

The silence is almost as suffocating as his gaze. It enfolds the room, covering every surface with a tension that has me wanting to scream.

He’s looking at me as if he can hear the words I can’t say.

As if he can feel the pain I can’t express .

“Don’t sing for your mother.” He speaks slowly, drawing out each and every word, “Don’t sing for Erik. Don’t even do it for yourself.”

Violet eyes find mine in the darkness.

“Do it for me.”

The selfish demand of a villain, waiting to hear my song.

The hopeful demand of a man, trying to put me back together again.

Both a lie and a truth mixed together until neither is false and neither is true.

I close my eyes, feeling something shift inside me. An insignificant sliver of recognition that shouldn’t be allowed so much power.

And yet, within that fragment, a tiny seed of hope slips out.

Something close to a hum starts to flow from my mouth. The weight in my lungs is heavier than I remember, the harmony in my blood a little denser. Melancholic and bittersweet, it sounds an awful lot like the voice I had to leave behind.

Marlin’s eyes start to crinkle and it’s his smile that turns the sound into something more.

A melody flows out of me, soft and sweet. I’m a living, breathing music box, filling the room with a song that’s bound to run out.

But for right now, I hold on.

I sing about a girl lost at sea, a girl who doesn’t know what she wants. I sing about the waves of the ocean, the push and pull of a passion that was never meant to be .

I sing about the sailors who never make it home and the sailors who keep their compasses close. I sing about the loved ones waiting back home, holding their breath until there’s nothing but air to hold on to.

I sing for a long time.

Marlin’s eyes are closed by the time my song runs out. His heavy breathing fills the room, his giant frame taking up most of my bed.

Reaching up, I brush the white strands back from his forehead. He doesn’t move when I touch his face, tracing the sharp angles that shouldn’t be so easy to touch.

My hand falls from his face to his chest, feeling the hard muscles rise and fall with each breath. The steady beat of his heart pushes through his skin, thrumming its own song against my hand.

“Thank you.”

His breathing stays deep and even as I curl into the warm cavity of his chest. Burying myself in his arms, I close my eyes and remind myself it’s just one night.

For one night, I’ll let myself have this.

I’ll let myself have him.