Page 5

When I looked back at her, she was breathing hard. Her chest rising and falling. Her warm breath fanning across my mouth. My attention dropped to her lips, which were full and richly shaped. And wet. Gods, they were dripping with seawater. I had no idea why it distracted me so much.

Another unhelpful thought.

I was here to save her life. Not stare at her lips. Or her chest. Or anything else. I was a duke—a respectable man.

Swallowing hard, I glanced back at the dinghy, unable to sense another heartbeat, and feared for the worst. “I don’t mean to pry, but I heard you shouting, and…” My eyes found hers again. “Is your mother in there?”

She held my gaze for a second before settling on the little dinghy that was drifting further out into the harbor, bobbing in the current like a sea bird, and her cheeks flushed with warm blood.

“No,” she said. “I was mistaken.” My brows drew together. She’d seemed sure enough to nearly drown chasing after it. “Can we go back to the docks now?” she asked with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion I understood all too well. “I’m ready to go home.”

There was more to her story, but it wasn’t my place to press her, so I focused on the practicality of us getting to shore. “Do you know how to swim?”

She shook her head no.

How… strange. I contemplated her, trying to figure this woman out.

“What?” It was more of a demand than a question. “Why are you smirking like that?”

I shrugged. “I’m not smirking. I’m just… surprised.”

“You are most certainly smirking.”

“Okay, fine.” I shifted her around so that she was cradled against my chest and began the swim toward the docks. “I’m smirking.”

Most people in my life did not challenge my assertions. I found, to my own surprise, that I didn’t mind it coming from her. It was a strange thing to sit with. When my council briefed me and had an opinion that contradicted theirs, they pushed back with the deference people reserve for the grieving and the unwell. This woman spoke to me as though I were merely a man without pity in her eyes.

I took my time swimming back in, not using my full speed. I was not in any particular hurry to return to my balcony. The sea had decided to hand me something, or rather, someone to think about.

It wasn't the wisest decision to prolong my exposure to her. Her pulse was beating against my forearm, which made her all the more tempting. The steady rhythm of a living thing, who smelled so impossibly sweet, should’ve sent me racing for solid ground.

I didn’t want to.

A pale bird landed on a nearby buoy and shook seawater from its wings. It fixed its milky blue eyes on me and tilted its head to the side, as if assessing me. It looked strikingly similar to the raven I had tattooed on my chest. Except mine was black. This one was pure white.

The woman stuck out her tongue at it, which made me bite my lip again as I tried to hold back laughter. She was such a strange and interesting creature—the woman, not the bird.

“A friend of yours?” I asked.

She hesitated, then said, “My familiar.”

“A witch with a familiar,” I commented. “You must come from a powerful coven.” She said nothing in response, but I couldn’t seem to shut up. “Where do you hail from?”

She pushed damp hair from her face, then crossed her arms. “How do you know I haven’t lived in Valemer my whole life?”

Again, she was pushing back, not giving me the easy answer. A thrill raced through me. “I don’t need to be an investigator to know you weren’t born here.”

“And why is that?”

“You roll your r’s, and your vowels are long, indicating you come from the west.” My attention dropped to her lips, then quickly back up. “Perhaps near Roselyn?”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“An old sea captain’s habit.”

“Are you really a captain?” she asked, regarding me with suspicion. “Or are you just some drunk who gets off on rescuing women?”

I sputtered out a laugh. I hadn’t been grilled this hard since I’d last seen my brother, Bastien. More importantly, I realized this woman had no clue who I was. I rather liked that she was oblivious to my title. And my proclivity for blood. A vice I was trying hard not to feed.