Page 146 of The Worst of Them

Jack stood and shrugged into his long coat. There was anger in the way he moved, fury in the set of his mouth—he was a man who was used to having everything under control, only to be faced with night after night of uncertainty. “Evening.”

Trepidation urged her to slow her steps as she crossed the room to him, but she pushed past her fear as she always did, as Jack and all the others had done too.

She lifted a gloved hand, displaying the set of finished mermaid-scale knives. The black scales were thinner now, fabulously sharp and tapered to cruel points. All three had different hilts, giving each a unique beauty. She was proud of them, for after all the terrors of these past weeks, she had still managed to create something beautiful.

Jack lifted one from her palm. It glittered as he tilted it, then he lightly strummed his thumb over the sharp edge.

“Your father would be proud,” he said.

Cecily ought to have smiled at the compliment, but one edge of her mouth turned down. The sentiment cut surprisingly deep, because she could only hope he was right and would never know for sure.

Blood, coughing, dread… She tried not to flinch as it all began again.

Jack studied her, missing nothing. “Was that the wrong thing to say?”

“Not at all,” she said with a feeble smile. She shoved at the thought of her father, the hallucinations, the anxiety creeping down her back. Without meaning to, she wiped her hand on her leg.

Jack saw that too, and the flames in his eyes guttered. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve just made it worse, haven’t I?”

“You didn’t,” she said. “It was already there.”

He didn’t believe her. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

She could practically see the thoughts playing through his mind. This was not the terror of ghosts that had driven him to rage. No, this was fear of her hatred and the painful memory of a mother who had let herself waste away.

Pocketing the knives, she took hold of his forearms and stretched up on her toes to kiss him.

It was the first kiss she’d had in two weeks, and the simple feel of him and his closeness chased away the chill she hadn’t been able to escape since Jonah began his pursuit.

Beneath her fingers, his arms lacked the bulk of bandages. She didn’t know when he’d stopped wearing them. The wounds would be mostly healed by now, but that didn’t account for the ones she’d left in his mind, which the haunting now twisted and used to abuse him.

He kissed her back, his mouth gentle and subdued, as though he wouldn’t let himself enjoy her.

“I love you,” she whispered against him. “Whatever convinces you otherwise is a lie.”

“It is very hard,” he said, “to believe I am not the worst possible thing that could have happened to you.” He shut his eyes for a breath, and when he opened them, they were bright with longing. “And I know you will say otherwise, but there’s still more you don’t know⁠—”

“That you’ve sworn to tell me,” she said. “I understand, Jack⁠—”

“You don’t.” He shook his head. “You couldn’t—not without the explanation I owe you. And when I speak to you, when I see you and crave your touch…” His hand slid over her hip, gripping her beneath her coat. “I’m reminded how selfish I’ve been, and that I’m a devil to have made you mine. And when you realize that, you’ll run your sword right through my heart—and I won’t even blame you for it.”

“That’s not true,” she said emphatically, even as her hands were coated with blood that felt so real. “It’s only the haunting. You know that.” So many assurances, but none of them would land.

A mournful smile spread over his lips, heartbreakingly handsome. “What I know, my darling,” he said as his other hand moved to her face, “haunting or not, you will try to kill me again. It’ll hardly be the first time, and I doubt it’ll be the last.”

She shook her head again, about to insist otherwise, but then a bell rang. It wasn’t the frantic clanging to call all hands, but a summons for Jack.

Cecily reached for his face. “We could very well die at any moment, and I’ll not have you convinced that I hate you when that happens.”

She pulled him down to her into another kiss. This time he gave in.

He hauled her to him, kissing her like they truly might die, like he was selfish, and she was glad that he did as she echoed his desperation back to him. Because she loved him, and she needed him to believe it.

Jonah was close. So terrifyingly close.

The bell rang again, but Jack and Cecily didn’t stop, every moment stolen without any hint of remorse. If this was to be their last bit of time together, they would be the best of thieves and take what they wanted.

Then the bell rang a third time, and Jack broke away. It was all they could get away with, and they would have to be satisfied.