Page 18

Chapter 18

AIRLIE

L ight filters through the cracks in the jagged cave stone, shimmering across the walls like angels dancing in warm golden hues. A fitting notion for how I feel this morning. The waves outside seem more at peace, taking a much-needed break from their usual, angry personality for once. Memories of last night wrap around me like a warm blanket, pulling me in with each soft crash of water against the cliff.

I don’t bother holding back a smile, knowing that I get to sit alone in my thoughts all day and replay every breathless moment Ezekiel and I had together last night.

I close my eyes, relishing in this hazy, glorious feeling that I don’t ever want to fade, much like the dull throb between my thighs. I want to feel his touch on my skin forever. I want to wear the aftermath of our lovemaking for weeks afterward because Ezekiel’s touches are worth remembering.

I drift in and out of the warmth of the memory, letting the images play on repeat in my mind. His mouth on my skin, the raw, unrelenting need surging through me. Through us both. Changing us into two feral beings that would make even the most debauched hellion blush.

His lips.

His taste.

The way I could taste myself on him.

I may still be in shock. Yet, I can’t deny that I feel completely awake.

Alive.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I truly know myself. Every thread that makes me who I am has finally tied together, waiting for me to uncover the truth of who I was meant to be.

I am a woman.

I am not a means to an end or whatever else those men or Father Grimsby said I was.

My blood is not repulsive. It shows that I am alive.

And alive is how Ezekiel makes me feel.

My beautiful haze starts to fade with thoughts of those monsters as the flickering light show on the stone walls is consumed by darkness.

Here comes the clouds again.

Scanning the space around me, it dawns on me that I didn’t sleep in my cave last night. I look around, and I feel something warm brush against my shoulder. I gaze down at the shackled and chained wrist gently draped over my body. The warmth against my back, the blanket I had felt before, was Ezekiel. It wasn’t just the memory of him.

Hot breath hits my exposed neck, sending a molten rush straight to my core. Every inch of my skin aches for him, because of him, but in the best way.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, his voice husky with sleep. Goosebumps prickle my skin as his hand traces my stomach. I roll over onto my back, needing to see his face.

His eyes are astonishingly blue. My new favorite color, I decide, as he brushes his nose against mine.

“Good morning,” I reply before he presses warm, gentle kisses to my lips.

His dark hair is a tangled mess, though. It isn't fair that he looks this good when he wakes up. I don't even want to know what I look like in the mornings. My hair is a nuisance most of the time. Always knotty, always flying around in the wind, flicking my face.

I wish I could cut it all off.

“You stayed with me,” he whispers, placing his hand against my own, palm to palm. His is much bigger than mine. My fingers are thin and pale, whereas his are tan and thick.

Even though he hasn't eaten much since arriving here, I am only just starting to notice a difference in his body. His shoulders are broad, much broader than mine, and there are defined veins on the inside of his forearm that had never occurred to me would be nice to stare at.

“I have to go, Ezekiel. I must return to my cave before somebody realizes I am not there, and I get into trouble.”

“Don't leave. Please. Don't go back out there. Stay here. You could look for a sharp rock or something , and I'll try to break these chains. I can get us out of here,” he says, his deep voice low and desperate.

Worry etches his features as dread sinks its claws into my stomach. His intensity pulls at me, and I don’t know how I’ve managed to ignore him whenever he begs me to let him go for this long.

He makes me feel things. Things I never imagined I could feel. Part of that is because I didn’t even know half of these emotions existed before meeting Ezekiel. He has peeled back so many of my layers, dragging out thoughts and vulnerabilities, but he never leaves me to deal with them by myself. I have been alone ever since my mother was killed, but I never feel alone when I am with him.

I wish he could help me understand these feelings.

Is it happiness?

Is it love?

I will have to think about it.

“I have a key,” I admit, and his eyes light up as if he’s just witnessed someone perform a miracle.

“Don't threaten me with a good time, Little Siren,” he says, pulling his mouth into a smile.

I'm not quite sure what he means.

He must sense my confusion because he looks at me, his fingers now peppering little touches across the back of my hand.

I love it when he does that.

Reads me when I am unsure or don’t know the right words to say. It makes talking to him all the more easier because he knows me almost better than I know myself.

“What I mean is, you gotta let me go, baby. And I know I've said it over and over again. But I can't stay like this,” he whispers, slowly moving his hand to play with my hair.

“I know. It’s just… I am afraid that they will find you, and if they do, they will hurt you, Ezekiel?—”

“They're not going to hurt me, baby. I promise. At least not physically. There is only one way they can hurt me, and that’s if they hurt you. And those fucking assholes have been hurting you. Which is why you have to let me go, Airlie. I won't let them lay a single fucking crooked finger on your body again. Little Siren, ” his voice grows quieter. “I can't protect you if I'm locked away down here,” he stares into my eyes. His are bright like a clear morning sky, but beneath that calm surface, I know they're filled with storms.

I know that he means it.

I know that he would do anything to protect me. But I haven't been willing to risk it until now. He is all I have. I have no one. And if something happens to him, I will be alone forever.

I have to tell him what he means to me. I have to say to him that I love him. I don’t know for sure, but I know I would die for him. I would let those men hurt me if it meant that Ezekiel was safe. If that means love, then I think I feel it.

“I know that I have been bad. And I know that God won't like what I've been doing down here with you, but?—”

“ God? ” he spits, chuckling a little, but I don’t miss the disgust lacing his tone. “Your God is not a nice guy, Little Siren. He doesn't give a single fuck about you and me. Or anyone else who is currently starving or fighting for their fucking lives,” he says, shaking his head.

Is he angry?

Have I made him mad?

I look away. Not because I'm afraid. I just need a moment to process.

“I have always been taught that God is all-powerful. He sees e-everything, created everything, and is the embodiment of all that is g-good and kind.”

“Baby, if he was all kind , could see the horrors of this world, and was all-powerful , wouldn't that make him a fake?” His words cut through me, and ice-cold tendrils trickle down my spine. How could he say that God is fake?

That can't be right.

Could it?

The thought races through my mind, dissecting everything I’ve been taught to believe.

Given the man who taught me, I know I have been lied to. There are so many lies I realize now that I think about it. But surely not about the existence of God? Where is my mother if she's not in heaven? The thought of her soul not being in a beautiful, peaceful place makes me sick to my stomach.

“How do those things make Him a fake? I d-don't understand.”

“If He was kind and had the power to change the world as we know it, the world that He created. Allegedly. And He hasn't lifted a fucking finger to help. To heal. To stop a man or woman from hurting a child. Stop them from taking away their innocence… that either makes him a fake or fucking evil.” Ezekiel’s voice is low and steady.

Patient, his fingers weave through my long hair, granting me silence to think and try to understand what he’s saying.

“How could God let His people that he apparently loves, His shepherds, messenger’s or whatever the fuck they call themselves, get away with crimes the Devil himself wouldn’t let slide?”

“Maybe God is real but has no power. Maybe He used it all up on building the world,” I say softly, the words tasting sour as they leave my mouth. I feel absurd saying it.

Emptiness spreads through my body as a heaviness assaults my chest. The thought of there being no eternal life after this is almost too much for me to bear. It would mean that I would never see my mother again. I would never hear her tell me that she loves me or ever feel her warmth.

Her love.

If there is no heaven or God to save us, what is all this for?

“Maybe. I am in two minds about it. I get that we all need to have something to believe in. And I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with that. I just know how unrealistic it would be for God to come down from His throne, or whatever the fuck he sits on, and fix everything. He just sits up there and lets us do the fixing, damning our souls to Hell in the process,” he sighs. “That boat that I told you about? The one that I blew up. Was connected to this place, these people,” he says, explaining the events that led him here to me.

A sob ripples out of me as pieces of a puzzle I hadn’t been aware of all fall into place. I am just a small detail in a very dark, very twisted story. I was starting to learn that Father wasn’t the man I thought he was, but knowing he was doing this with others shatters my heart to pieces. Bile rises in my throat, and a few beats later, I am bent over in a corner of Ezekiel’s cave, heaving into one of the buckets that I am grateful I cleaned yesterday.

“I am so sorry, Airlie. I am so sorry that this is happening to you,” he says, his voice distant over my wrenching and the pounding of my broken heart in my ears.

“I know what I have to do. I will get the keys. I have them hidden between some rocks in my cave. I will set you free, Ezekiel,” my voice shakes as tears blur my vision.

I am so scared that something bad will happen to him. I am so afraid that I will go back to being alone. Something tells me that if he isn’t successful in getting us out, being alone will be the least of my concerns.

“Thank you, baby. I promise I’ll come back for you. The minute I am free of these shackles, I want you to wait here. I don’t want you to see what needs to happen up there. Do you hear me?” He cannot be serious.

“I am not leaving you!”

“Baby, you have to listen to me. It isn’t safe. If they touch you, I will lose my damn mind. They will see that reaction and use it to their advantage. They will see that I love you, Airlie,” he pleads. Admits.

The pounding of my heart in my ears ceases, and my vision blurs until the only thing I see is him standing before me, telling me that he loves me. I cannot speak. My mouth moves, but all words evade me as I gaze into his eyes.

He loves me.

I want to say something. I want to jump into his arms and tell him I love him, too. I step forward, but a slow clapping noise surrounds us, pinning me in place.

“Awe, how cute,” a man's deep, menacing tone fills the cave, and both mine and Ezekiel's eyes shoot to the cave's entrance where one of the men, Jeremy, I think, stands, leaning against the stone.

“To think I almost missed the show.”

“What show?” this voice comes from a woman.

Not a woman.

Someone ungodly.

Evil.

Ursa.