Page 42 of Waters that Drown Us

Emily comes, praising me with every word that comes out of her mouth as she rides out the orgasmI gave her. Taking cue from her, I don’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping into her until she physically pulls my face away from her body. My lips and chin are covered in her wetness, and she pulls me up toward her, leaning down so we’re mere centimeters apart.

“Use your safe word,” she demands, her lip barely brushing mine, the ghost of my pleasure on her mouth. I feel for the cap with my tongue, relieved to find it unbroken.

Because I want this too.

“No,” I say, relishing the feeling of her grip tightening in my hair.

“So fucking difficult,” she sighs, and then her lips collide with mine.

I didn’t think, after everything we’d done—the touching, the lying, the fucking, the vulnerability—that kissing her would be the thing that pushed me over the edge of trusting her. But her tongue is in my mouth, and we taste like each other, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s the only person in the world I can actually trust. She cut my restraints free. She embraced me in my vulnerable state and gave me everything I needed and more.

And no matter what she’s been hiding, I know she was right. She will protect me.

And I’ll find a way to protect her.

Chapter 18

Emily

Ihave to tell her.

It’s unhinged, but I’ve known Alice—Alisa—would be mine since the moment I saw her on that stage.

I love my family, especially my parents, with every fiber of my being. They’ve been supportive, accepting, and my greatest champions since the moment I was born. But we are who we are, and softness has never been an option between us. With them, love is something that is patient yet demanding. It makes you vulnerable, so therefore it must also make you strong. It’s the knowledge that your family will choose the mission over you, every time, because they know you’ll do the same, for the greater good.

But as I carry Alice back to the cramped cot beneath the cockpit, her cheek pressed against my chest and her eyes fluttering closed, I know this type of love is different. I cannot imagine a world where I don’t choose her. If given the option between the work of The Syndicate of Fate and her, I wouldn’t hesitate. If she demanded I kill her father, I’d do it, consequences for The Syndicate be damned. If she asked me to burn the whole damn world down, I’d do that, too.

If she asked me to leave The Syndicate…

Grief tightens my stomach as I lean over to lay her on the berth, her hand still clinging to the collar of my shirt.

I would. I would leave my family and this work I believe in, if it would make her happy. And it would be excruciating, not to have Clara and Charlie and Bea in my life, to never see my parents again, to be unable to help avenge Zia Lucia. There would be a part of me that ached for the purpose they gave me, the love we shared. It wouldn’t just be losing them, it would berunningfrom the people who love me most.

But that pain pales in comparison to the idea of losing her.

I gently peel her fingers off my shirt so I can re-dress her in the sweatpants and tank top she packed in her bag. It’ll be warm enough under the blanket with her body pressed to mine, but I don’t want her to freeze if she gets up in the middle of the night.

She’s too exhausted to be much help, but we eventually get her clothed and I slip onto the thin cot next to her. Her face is immediately in the crook of my neck, her arm around my torso, and I pull her as far on top of me as I can. I need to smell her sea salt and blackberry hair, and to feel the warmth of her skin, and to buffer her against the rather uncomfortable berth frame.

It’s only a few minutes before she’s fully asleep, and while exhaustion threatens to pull me under as well, I can’t help my spiraling thoughts. There has to be a way to explain to her who I am, why I’m here, why none of that matters anymore. We both know we can’t continue lying, can’t keep up the stories we’ve been spinning. Beginning this life with her means coming clean and starting fresh. I have to allow her a choice—she’s been given so few in her life, and I won’t be another person who denies her freedom.

She’s entitled to the truth, even if it makes her hate me for a while. I deserve that. But if she cares about me a fraction of the amount I love her, we will be able to work through it.

Tomorrow. I’ll sit her down and explain to her who I am and why I came here. I’ll answer every question, give her all the time she needs to process.

But after tomorrow, Alice will have no doubt that she is the most important thing in the world to me. That’s the thought that comforts me as I drift off with the gentle rise and fall of our boat on the water.

-

I’m a moment too late.

Just a second too slow.

I wake up a single heartbeat before I feel a pinprick in my neck. The adrenaline of fear barely has time to course through my system before it’s sedated by whatever’s being pumped through my veins.

With the dying remnants of my strength, I hold Alice to my chest. I can feel something pulling her away, a darkness I can’t perceive. Like the unforgiving gravity and incessant pressure of the deep, the figure drags her away from me, and I dig my nails into her skin in a futile attempt to keep her here.

I knew I should be afraid of the sea, I think, my mouth too filled with something that tastes like copper, like blood, to speak the words aloud.I knew it would take something from me. Why is it taking her? She loves the ocean so much. Why is it being cruel to her?