Chapter 18 Drag Me In
I waited until the night split open. An audience would just make this harder. There were a few of the crew members mulling about. Keeping an eye on things as the storm progressed. I had plenty of liquid courage to get me through this.
The sea had teeth. I could hear them in the rigging, lines pulled so tight they sang, a thin, screaming sound that scraped along my nerves. Below deck, everyone had been packed together, shoulder to shoulder, breath thick and sour with fear. I couldn’t stand it. The closeness. The waiting.
So I slipped out.
Barefoot. Quiet as I could manage. The storm hit me like a slap. Rain drove into my skin, sharp and cold, soaking through my nightshirt in seconds. It clung to me, heavy and dragging, and the deck pitched hard enough that I stumbled straight into the rail. I grabbed the first rope I could find. Rough. Soaked. Straining under my grip.
The ship dropped.
My stomach dropped with it.
For one horrible second, my toes left the deck. The world tipped, and all I could see was black water below, wide and waiting. My fingers locked down until they hurt, breath tearing out of me in a broken gasp.
The sea answered.
It roared.
Not just noise. Not just wind. It felt alive. Waves slammed into the hull like fists, like something trying to break through and drag us under. Thunder rolled low and heavy, deep enough I felt it in my bones.
I moved anyway.
One step.
Then another.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice told me to turn around. Go below. Hide. But the thought of it made my stomach twist. I needed to get over this fear. I planted my feet wider instead and forced myself to look over the side.
Black water churned below, white foam clawing at the ship. It moved too fast. Too strong.
If I fell—
My breath hitched. There’d be no drifting. No slow sinking. Just the sea closing over me like a fist.
Gone.
Another wave slammed into us, rattling the deck beneath my feet. I flinched, then clenched my jaw.
“Look at it,” I muttered. “Go on.”
Lightning split the sky. For a heartbeat, the world turned bone-white. And I saw him. At the helm. One hand braced on the wheel, the other steady on a line. He didn’t look like he was fighting the storm. He looked like he understood it. Like it was spoken and he knew how to answer.
Captain Harrow.
Rain cut down his face in sharp lines, gathered at his throat, disappeared beneath his collar. His coat snapped in the wind, plastered to him like it belonged there.
He was looking at me. Not surprised. Not angry. Just… watching. The dark swallowed him again.
I dragged in a breath that tasted like salt and iron. My hands had gone numb, fingers stiff around the rope, but I didn’t move.
Let it come, I thought. Let it try.
The ship climbed again, higher this time. My stomach flipped. When it dropped, my knees almost gave out—A hand closed around my shoulder.
Warm.
Solid.
I jerked, breath catching, but the grip held me steady before I could slip.
“Thought you’d try to swim for shore?”
His voice was right at my ear, low enough I felt it more than heard it. I let out something that might’ve been a laugh.
“Was thinking about letting the sea take me.”
His hand stayed where it was. Didn’t even shift. Rain ran down his sleeve, over his knuckles, onto my skin. His thumb pressed just enough to anchor me when the deck tilted again. He stood close—too close—and I could feel the heat of him through the soaked fabric between us.
Too close, but not close enough.
“I can’t swim,” I said before I could stop myself. The words came out sharper than I meant. “Never learned.”
Thunder rolled again. He didn’t answer right away. The storm filled the silence, loud and relentless, but the quiet from him felt heavier.
“My father threw me in,” he said finally. His voice had dropped, rougher now. “Didn’t matter how cold it was. Said I’d learn faster.”
I turned my head, squinting through the rain. “Did you?”
His mouth tipped slightly. Not quite a smile. “Learned not to sink.”
The ship pitched again. This time I didn’t grab the rope. I grabbed him. My hand fisted in his coat, knuckles brushing the hard line of his chest. For a second neither of us moved. Rain hammered down. Wind tore at us. The sea raged—And he didn’t move.
Didn’t give.
He felt… solid. Like the storm had to go through him before it got to me.
My grip tightened.
His hand slid from my shoulder to my arm. Not pushing. Not pulling. Just there.
Holding.
“You won’t fall,” he said.
I let out a sharp breath. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“Because you command the sea now?” I shot back, but there wasn’t much bite left in it.
Lightning flashed again. I didn’t look away this time. He was closer than I thought. Close enough I could see the scar at his jaw, the way his eyes tracked me like I was something worth watching even now.
“No,” he said. “Because you’re on my ship.”
The words settled low in my chest.
Warm.
Dangerous.
“And that means?” I asked, quieter now.
His gaze flicked down to where I still gripped his coat. Then back to my face.
“It means,” he said, voice dropping, “nothing takes what’s mine without a fight.” Something sparked.
Something hotter.
My fingers loosened, but I didn’t let go.
“And what am I?” I asked. “Cargo?”
His grip tightened on my arm. Just enough that I felt it.
“No.”
The storm surged around us, but the moment held. A wave crashed over the side, drenching us both. I gasped and leaned in without thinking, my shoulder brushing his chest.
He didn’t step back. Neither did I.
For a heartbeat, everything narrowed. The heat of his hand. My pulse tripping over itself. His gaze dropping—just for a second—to my mouth before snapping back up.
“Cabin,” he said.
It sounded rougher now. Like it cost him something. I shook my head.
“Not yet.”
Something flickered across his face. Approval. Annoyance. Something sharper.
“Stubborn,” he muttered.
“Still here,” I shot back.
That almost-smile again. The storm started to ease. Not all at once. The wind dropped first, from a scream to a low growl. The rain softened, turning into a steady sheet instead of needles.
The ship steadied beneath us. Not calm. But no longer trying to kill us. I let out a slow breath, my grip on his coat loosening. My hand lingered a second too long before I pulled away. Cold rushed in where he’d been. I hated that I noticed.
“I’ll teach you,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
“To swim.” His eyes flicked to the water, then back to me. “So you stop looking at it like it’s already won.”
I lifted my chin. “And if I don’t?”
His mouth curved. Slow. Certain.
“Then I’ll drag you in myself.”
My breath caught.
“Careful, Captain,” I said, softer now. “You might regret that.”
“Doubt it.”
The storm rolled away, grumbling toward the horizon. The deck glistened under lantern light, slick and shining like nothing had happened.
But something had.
I could feel it. In the space between us. In the way neither of us moved. In the way the sea, for once, felt like it was watching us.
Finally, he stepped back.
“Get to the cabin,” he said, quieter now.
This time, I did. But as I turned, I felt it—his gaze on my back. Steady. Unrelenting. And for the first time since stepping onto this ship—the sea didn’t feel like the most dangerous thing out here.