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Jarin wrapped his arms around her and hugged her against his chest. From one ear, she could hear the pounding of the waves. From the other, the strong and steady beat of his heart. She felt warm, and safe, in a way she never had before. She wanted more of that feeling. It was incredibly appealing, especially in the face of death. There was no reason for her to deny her attraction to him anymore. No reason at all.
She tilted her head back to meet his penetrating gaze.
“Will you kiss me?” she asked, her voice husky from crying.
Without a moment’s hesitation, as if he’d been just waiting for her to ask, he cupped her face and leaned down, pressing his lips to hers.
The warmth of his mouth felt intimate and comforting, even as it felt foreign. She liked how he tasted, and that kissing him meant they breathed the same air. He parted her lips with a gently probing tongue, his lips sliding against her teeth, and her tears finally stopped.
She returned the kiss—slowly at first, while she got used to the rhythm of the movements. Then, with the urgency of someone whose very days were numbered.
CHAPTER 18
Jarin watched over Riella while she slept.
He’d taken her to a treehouse in a secluded part of the tree-borne labyrinth, the thatched roof blending almost seamlessly with the surrounding palm fronds. Torches in brackets cast light over the doorway as he guided her inside. It’d been difficult to get any words out of her after those sad, terrible sentences she uttered on the beach amidst flowing tears.
I don’t want to die. I’m scared.
What could he say to that? What could he do? He couldn’t look her in the face and tell her that fate was incorrect. Jarin didn’t pretend to know more than Ferrante. So far, everything the old Seer said had come true. Riella was indeed the rare ocean jewel he’d referred to. It was too late for Jarin to distance himself from the siren—her fate and the fate of the clan were already entwined.
In the treehouse, she’d taken him by the hand to the unmade bed. He removed his shirt while she curled up on the white sheets. When he lay beside her, she pulled his arm under her neck and rested her hand in the middle of his tattooed chest.
He’d expected her to lie awake for a long time, as he knew he would, but after a few minutes of fighting to keep her eyes open, she fell into a deep sleep.
Jarin was left with his churning thoughts and the conflicted burn in his chest. What if he’d ruined fate by bringing Riella aboard the Pandora when she needed to get to the Black Cliffs? His feud with Artus blinded him to the possibility that fate had bigger concerns than Jarin usurping his old mentor.
But the truly shameful thing? Jarin would use the amulet to save Riella’s life, even against her wishes. He’d let the elf die a thousand deaths if it meant keeping the siren alive. It was not rational, but it was so.
Maybe he took after his mother more than he realized.
He’d always been afraid of his dark side veering too close to hers. Obsessive, deranged, intense-beyond-words. For that reason, he’d sworn to never let himself grow close to a woman, fearful of triggering the traits for which his mother was infamous.
But now, he cursed that he wasn’t more like her. What he wouldn’t give for her magic, her power. Although she’d done terrible things, at least she’d never had to feel helpless, the way he did now.
Jarin had never considered himself a good man. He’d never been a good man, and he’d never cared, because darkness was innate to him. But Riella deserved better than imminent death. She was remarkable and brave. One-of-a-kind, in every sense.
He stared at the shifting moonlit patterns on the walls and smiled faintly to himself. How ironic that he’d sworn to never let himself care about a woman. That was still true. He cared about a bloody siren instead—one who’d stabbed him in the heart, no less.
Maybe his true purpose was to assist the siren-who-walks during this fateful time. His whole life, he’d felt adrift and like he belonged nowhere. Was this why? If it wasn’t, could he make it that way? Force himself into fate?
He and Riella would find the amulet, and they’d use it to save her. She wouldn’t know that, of course. Riella was adamant the amulet wasn’t meant for her.
There would no doubt be another way to save the elf. If being a pirate had taught him anything, it was that every impossible situation had a way out. There was always an escape hatch, a hidden weapon, a secret solution. It was just a matter of finding it. Or, failing that, inventing it.
He ran his fingertips through the spun silk that was Riella’s hair. Her eyelids lightly fluttered as she slept, indicating she was dreaming. She appeared uncharacteristically sweet when she slept, her signature fierceness dormant.
Gods, he wanted her. It felt profane, to lust so intensely for a siren doomed to die. He had no business allowing his blood to be stirred. And yet, he was a man. He could not help his body’s reaction to her.
“It seems like such a waste to sleep,” came her breathy voice.
Jarin had been tracing the infinity symbol on her fabric-covered hip, over and over again. He hadn’t noticed her eyes open.
But now, she gazed at him in the creamy moonlight, wide awake.
“Time goes too quickly in the land of dreams,” she said. “That’s not how I want to spend the nights I have left.”
“You have to sleep sometime,” he replied in a low voice.
