The Deepest Ocean (Eden Series) (22 page)

This is wrong
, all her training told her. It had gone well beyond slaking a natural need the moment it became a deliberate creation of that need, the moment the act became an involvement of her heart rather than a function of her body. It was wrong, he was wrong for her and she wanted him so very much.

He took her earlobe into his mouth and her hips jerked involuntarily against him. “Darok,” she said, and the word was a groan roughened further with need.

He raised his head and slid an arm beneath her knees, picking her up easily. Two strides took him to her bunk, and he dropped her on it with an abruptness that would have knocked the breath out of her if she had it. She was still holding on to him, and she pulled him down with her, not caring when his weight pinned her to the bed. Their time was running out, and she had to have him in any way she could before the end.

His need was just as demanding. He didn’t bother pulling her blouse open, only lowered his head to her breast and lashed the nipple with his tongue. Yerena’s head fell back. She shuddered at the heat and friction of the wet cloth against her tight, sensitized flesh.

Yet he released her far too soon, lifting himself off her just enough to get a hand between their bodies and yank her skirt up around her waist. She wanted to be naked, wanted him to be naked, but she couldn’t wait. He pulled her drawers down, she kicked them off and then his narrow hips moved between her thighs.

He had unbuttoned his trousers, and the throbbing length of his erection pressed against her stomach. Even through crushed folds of wool, the heat of it branded her, and the fabric of his trousers rubbed against the insides of her thighs. She flattened a hand on his arm, keeping her touch light against the bandages beneath his sleeve, then slid her palm up to his shoulder. Muscles tensed beneath her hand, and he kissed his way to her ear, breathing into it.

“Want me to stop?” He rolled his hips forward to push his cock against her belly, branding her with the tantalizing heat and hardness she could feel—but not nearly enough, nowhere near as deep as she wanted it. “Or do you just want me?”

“You.” She wrapped her legs around his hips, and dug her nails into his shoulders. “Now—”

“Yerena!” The harsh whisper was wrenched from his throat, and it was all the warning she got before he thrust into her, filling her so completely that her back arched from the shock and pleasure of it. He pulled almost all the way out of her, and she grasped his taut buttocks to force him back in. His pace grew faster, and through the low roar of blood in her ears, she heard him growl her name once more before his teeth closed on the point where her neck and shoulder joined.

Her body bucked in reaction. The hot gathering need between her legs clenched unbearably tight and came apart, racking her in deep shuddering spasms as her flesh locked and slickened further around his cock. She felt it jerk deep within her as his own release took him down, brought him sinking against her, shaking from the force of his pleasure, and whatever the words they had said to each other before, their bodies knew the truth.

She lay with her eyes closed, still breathing hard. The light sheen of wetness across one breast felt cool, but Darok’s upper arm lay across her other breast, warm and heavy. Aftershocks pulsed through her flesh, and she knew he felt those just as intensely although he lay quiet and sated beside her, motionless except for his breathing. They were joined in an intimacy that went far beyond the physical, and she acknowledged it with a cold despair settling over her heart.

Because she couldn’t afford to fall in love—not with him and not in that time or place. Everything in the world stood between them. Even if it didn’t, she had to admit one thing to herself, that Lady Lisabe had been right. She’d come to care about the shark so much she was keeping it far from any kind of battle, keeping it safe although she was traveling into more danger than she had ever been. What had she imagined she would do alone against a pack of killer whales, against a Seawatch operative far better than she was?

If she hadn’t been so protective of the shark, she would have been planning how to use it in some clever strategy to destroy Turean defenses and whale packs alike. And if she hadn’t been so fond of Darok, she would have been calmly evaluating his methods, gauging just the right moment to either enter the battle on his side or to make certain his ship would go down with him.

Instead, she had given in to her emotions and her lust. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. A Seawatch operative sent into the Iron Ocean had to get her priorities straight, had to keep her mind clear as ice and her resolve harder. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t get out of there alive.

She just hoped she would never have to decide whether it was worth being alive if everyone she cared about was dead.

Lifting Darok’s arm off her, she slid out of the bunk. She felt a little unsteady on her feet, but her hands moved with their usual efficiency as she unlaced her crumpled skirt and let it fall. Darok turned his head, and although she was careful not to look in his direction, she felt the weight of his gaze on her as she stripped off her blouse and reached for the pot of grease.

He sat up. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving the ship.” As methodically as she would have worked if she had been alone, she began to apply the grease.

“What?”

Neither hurrying nor lingering on skin still flushed from lovemaking, Yerena finished the ritual and stepped into her watersuit. She slid her arms into its sleeves and began to lace it closed.

Darok got off the bunk and started to put his own clothes back in order. “Because of what I said earlier? Or because of—I thought you wanted to—”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She couldn’t have managed a sarcastic tone if she had been trying for one, so her voice just sounded tired and flat. She buckled her knife-belt and tucked her gloves into it. The mask went around her neck and she picked up her flippers.

“Then why? Talk to me, damn it! Are you going back home?”

“Of course not!” Yerena said, realizing a moment later that he’d baited her not only into answering him but in turning to face him. In all her life, there were only a few images imprinted on her memory so deeply no part of her training could erase them, and she knew Darok’s face would be one of them. It wasn’t the dark hair unruly from her fingers, or the angles of his cheekbones and strong jaw; it was the uncertain, vulnerable look in his eyes. She steeled herself just in time.

“I’m going to deal with those whales.” She went to the door.

“Don’t be a fool, Yerena.” There was a tense edge to his voice. “Even with that beast, you’re outnumbered.”

“So you won’t have to worry about my sinking your ship.” Yerena let herself out and went topside, picking her way around charred places and gaps where the carpenters hadn’t yet replaced boards. She took a small bundle of rations from the ship’s galley, and a flask of water went into her suit to fit snugly against her stomach, because while she’d survived on scraps and raw fish before, she didn’t want to risk losing the water.

She called the shark. Behind her, hammers slammed and saws rasped through wood as the ship was slowly refitted, but the heavy sway of sails and creak of boards sounded almost as familiar to her as the waves did. The sailing master had spread a map over a folding table and was speaking in low tones to Alyster. The ship’s bell rang out over footfalls and shouted commands. She looked over the empty sunlit sea and told herself to be patient.

The dark fin surfaced a league away from the ship, and the tip of the tailfin just beyond it moved steadily from side to side as the shark came closer—still obedient, but without the lively enthusiasm she remembered when they had played at racing.
What do you expect when it’s hurt?
The warmth that always filled her at the familiar sight sank away under a weight like a slab of lead. At the very least, she wanted to let the shark rest until it recovered fully. She owed it that much, and yet she had to use it until there was nothing left to be used any longer.

It is an animal
, she could imagine her mentor saying in a patient voice.
What it does, it does because of your control and influence, not because it feels anything for you.

We’re going to hunt some killers, beautiful one
. She tried to infuse her own eagerness into their connection, but little of the emotion felt real, and she gave up. After putting on her flippers, she gripped the side of the rail to swing herself over.

“Yerena!” Darok called out.

No.
Yerena wanted to simply drop off into the water, but not only would that have been rude, it would have startled the shark. She set her shoulders back and turned.

He came up to her, although she knew he did that only so he wouldn’t have to shout to her from across the deck. “I know you’re bent on doing this, but you don’t have to die for it. Come back if you need to, for any reason. We’re going to moor at the inlet in Rosefall. I don’t know how long it will take you to find us, but we should reach that island by nightfall. You know where it is?”

Yerena nodded, grateful that she hadn’t given in to her first impulse.
This is why I care about you, and that’s why I have to leave.
She disciplined her voice to neutrality.

“Thank you,” she said. It meant a great deal when someone kept her well-being in mind.

Darok shook his head. “If you succeed, I’ll need to thank you, and if you don’t…” He paused. “Good luck.”

She couldn’t speak, and it didn’t matter anyway. He turned and strode to the sailing master’s table, bending to study the map, and she let herself down a mooring rope, hand-over-hand. Sharkskin was more than enough protection from any friction to her palms. She only wished it could do the same for her heart.

The storm had blown itself out and Julean heard them searching.

As soon as he had gained the deck of
Bowhead
, he had run across it to the gunwale. The galley rolled like a die on a gaming table, tossed by first one wind and then another. Even over the screams of the winds, he heard masts creak and men shout in terrified voices, but in the dark no one saw him as he climbed over the gunwale, clutching the wet rail tightly until he could lower himself into a rowboat lashed to the galley’s side.

Feeling a little safer, he searched the boat and found a bailer to collect a few mouthfuls of rainwater. Waves flung themselves at the galley like giants’ hands reaching up out of the ocean to grab the vessel, and he wondered how the Tureans managed to drink salt and live. It would have made an interesting research project—for a man who still had a fascination with medical discoveries, for a man who had a laboratory on Denalay and the funds to buy equipment and the approval of the scientific community.

He knew just how much he had lost—or given up or thrown away, he was forced to admit—along with Maree and their child, but for the first time he wondered how she would have felt about it. She had been proud of him, but he hadn’t done a great deal to be proud of in the past five years.

No, there was no point in idle speculation. When he found her, she could say anything she liked and he’d accept it gladly, if only he could have her back.

He made himself as comfortable as possible on the boat, which was not comfortable at all but infinitely safer than being belowdecks. Gradually the storm blew itself out. The waves sank down. The sky grumbled, fell silent and grew light in the east. They were sailing into the sunrise as the search began.

Julean knew better than to underestimate the Tureans again. It was only a matter of time before they looked over the side. He could cut away the ropes binding the boat, but he had no intention of rowing off alone through the Iron Ocean.

Ropes. That was an idea.

Voices came closer to the gunwale, and he heard what they said even over the flap of rainsodden canvas and shouted commands. “There’s bad luck and there’s ill fate and which one d’you think we got? First
Rorqual
sinks, then there’s a Deen on board and an albatross…” The words trailed off uneasily.

“I heard he killed Ranost,” another Turean replied. An unpleasant metallic
snick-snick
sounded when he moved, and Julean had no wish ever to find out what made that noise, but from the voices he knew they stood at the same point he had climbed over. Wood creaked as they bent over the gunwale to look at the rowboat.

No, I haven’t left anything there
. Just after the search began, he had tied himself beneath the boat, his back to its keel, and he swung in a harness of ropes, looking straight down into the white foam of the galley’s wake. If they started hauling the boat up he would cut himself free, but he hoped his luck would hold a little longer.

Luck? Or the Unity?

After Maree’s ship had been lost with all hands, he had done everything he could to find her, finally going to a quiet communion chamber in Skybeyond to plead with the Unity. He gazed up at the ceiling above which was the only person or entity who could help, and promised to do anything if the Unity brought Maree and their baby back safely.

The silence was so empty it echoed. Julean had never prayed again until the previous night—except
that
prayer had been answered.

Was the albatross’s fall just a coincidence, or did it mean the Unity
did
hear supplications and answer them, on occasion? Except when it came to his love for his wife, Julean was logical and rational, and he found himself thinking of the difference between his two requests. The previous night, he had needed a distraction, anything to make the Tureans look away from him for a few moments, but five years ago, he had asked for his wife to be returned. What if the Unity couldn’t do that? Because she was—