Page 54 of A Reckless Indulgence

With a mirthful hum, he spreads his legs. His thigh presses between hers, making her bite back a sound, but his pants don’t budge.

Frustration courses through her. She needs him. There’s no denying the ache. She wants to feel his scales scraping against her, to roam the hills and valleys of his body, to ingest all the parts of him that she has been denied.

But when she reaches for him again, he catches her wrists. “Are you being honest?”

Lyx squirms. It takes a moment to remember what he means, his warning from the first day scorching back into her mind. If you want me to give you everything, it has to be real. Show me more than the facade.

What the fuck does that even mean? She can’t think when the sight of him, dazed and pliant, vibrates through her very being. She is hungry. She wants to know every inch of him, to leave teeth marks and lap at his blood, to bite off pieces so that he is forced to stay with her always.

Her thoughts are a tempest, whirling and spattering against her skull. Her tongue burns with words she can’t make sense of, things she cannot say, so she keeps her mouth shut and prays the rest of her will put the fire out.

When she reaches for him again, he doesn’t push her away. He pulls her closer, trapping her wrists between their chests. Her hair spills around them. She pants against his mouth, fingers curling in his bodice. He doesn’t let her do more than that. Doesn’t let her tug the fabric free. Doesn’t let her touch him anywhere else.

“You’re a brat,” she snarls.

“I’ll give it to you,” he whispers. “Trust me.” It’s so soft she can barely hear it over the blood pounding in her ears. “Just tell me something real.”

It should be easy to lie. Pretend that she needs him desperately, that she’s helpless to this feeling, that he occupies all of her thoughts — but the tremor in her voice would give her away. Because it isn’t a lie. It isn’t pretend. It’s real.

For a moment, it looks like he can see it. Like he knows the truth she’s trying to hide.

Her entire body tenses. He cannot see it; she cannot abide that. Fear hones her voice into something sharp and venomous. “I’ve given you more than enough.”

Cav’s face falls. She tries not to feel the crushing feeling inside her. His fingers brush over her hands and slowly retract. “If that’s how you feel.”

Carefully, he eases out from under her and gathers his wet clothes. Lyx clenches her jaw and fights the sting burrowing in her chest. It doesn’t matter. She has nothing to give. Nothing she wants to give. Showing Cav whatever he believes she’s hiding would just remind her how alone she is.

But when Cav leaves her with a lingering look, the solitude she chose rings hollower than before.

TWENTY-ONE

Lyx

If Lyx wasn’t avoiding Cav before, she certainly is now.

Once Cav left the cabin, the storm subsided. It was a cruel joke, like the sea was rocking only to thrust the two of them together. Her mind was still whirling, though, leaving her tossing and turning on the mattress where Cav had been pressed moments before.

Who does he think he is, asking her to be honest? She is honest, but when has that ensured anything but her suffering? Asking her to trust him might as well be asking her to carve open her chest and expose the delicate muscle of her heart.

Her fists clench. Cav will never understand that; he’s always been willing — desperate — to offer up his throat for something foolish. He may enjoy being taught a lesson, but Lyx has learned hers. She knows the price of it. She’s still paying for it.

Who gives a shit what Cav expects from her? He can wait for her “honesty” as long as he’d like, but he’ll die holding his breath.

Her indignation lulls her to sleep. Aside from the night after the crow’s nest, it’s the first time in years that she doesn’t dream, doesn’t wake, doesn’t move. By the time her eyes crack open, the sun is low outside the window. She’s slept through nearly the entire day.

She hurries out of bed, ignoring the wet spots left on the floor by Cav’s clothing. The Indulgence is making another stop tonight, and she needs to get a closer look at where those glass jars are going.

When she ascends the stairs, the crew is milling about the deck, finishing dinner and preparing for the next landing. Thankfully, there’s no sign of Cypher. Lyx exhales her relief, leaning back against the railing and staring out across the sea.

It is a beauty artists struggle to replicate. Nothing truly captures its movement, a swirling surface that descends into darkness. That’s where it hoards its greatest mysteries, the biggest shipwrecks to the smallest treasures. There was a time when Lyx knew the ocean’s secrets. When she could ask it for anything. When she was its confidant, feeling its whims like an instinct, colluding against those who underestimated them. Even now, its power rolls beneath her, a barely-restrained force that can transform in an instant.

She yearns to reach for it, but when she unfurls the tendrils of her mind, there’s…nothing. Silence. A drop in a pond that creates no ripples.

Her chest tightens. She turns away.

Cav hasn’t noticed her from where he meanders across the deck. His clothes are slightly too tight, borrowed from someone else on the ship, like he’d rather chafe than visit his cabin again.

She wonders if his mind is stuck in the same place as hers. She curls her fingers around the taffrail, throbbing with the sweet sting of the night before. It’s imprinted in her mind — the feel of her palm against his cheek, the obscene spread of his knees, the blood and spit glistening on his lips.