Part of me wants to throw myself against him, to feel those powerful arms wrap around me again. But there’s something fragile in this moment that I don’t want to rush.
“I apologize for my absence,” Roark says finally. “I was obtaining provisions.” He gestures toward the net bag, which I can now see contains an assortment of shellfish. “I thought perhaps you might be hungry after your journey.”
The thoughtfulness of this—him gathering fresh seafood specifically for my arrival—makes my chest tight.
“I’m starving, actually,” I admit. “But I should probably shower first. That trail was no joke.”
“The waterfall at the north end of the cove is fresh water,” he offers. “It’s rather invigorating.”
I’ve never bathed in a waterfall, but after the past couple weeks, that doesn’t even rank in my top ten unusual experiences.
“Sounds refreshing,” I say, gathering my backpack. “Lead the way, Captain.”
His eyes flicker at the title, something between pleasure and old pain crossing his features.
“You want me to accompany you?”
“Of course. You know the way.”
He hesitates, then says, “Take only what you need. The path is short but steep.”
Chapter 12
Permission to Dive
Ashe
After grabbing my bag of toiletries and a change of clothes, I step outside. The afternoon sun has warmed the air, but a breeze off the water keeps it comfortable.
Roark moves with surprising grace on land, his tentacles working in concert to navigate the rocky terrain. I find myselfwatching the play of muscles across his back, the way his skin shifts patterns in the dappled light filtering through the trees.
“You’re staring,” he says without turning around, amusement in his voice.
“Hard not to.” No point denying it. “You don’t exactly blend in with the local wildlife.”
He makes a sound that might be a chuckle. “I once commanded a vessel with forty-three humans aboard, not one of whom suspected their captain was anything but human.”
“Magic is cheating,” I point out, carefully picking my way over a fallen log. “Now you have to rely on your natural charms.”
“And are they sufficient?” The question sounds casual, but there’s a vulnerability beneath it that tugs at me.
Before I can answer, we round a bend in the path, and I stop short at the sight before me. A waterfall cascades down the cliff face, not massive but substantial enough to create a deep pool at its base. Smooth stones surround it, and the afternoon sun hits the spray just right to cast rainbows through the mist.
“This is…” I struggle for words. “Did you build your cabin knowing this was here?”
Roark moves to the pool’s edge. “The waterfall revealed itself to me nearly sixty years ago, during a particularly severe storm. The cabin followed.” He gestures to a flat rock beside the pool.“You may leave your things there. I’ll return to prepare our meal.”
I realize he’s giving me privacy—a surprisingly human consideration from someone whose culture probably views nudity very differently.
“You don’t have to go,” I say before thinking better of it. “I mean… unless you want to.”
His eyes darken. “I wouldn’t presume—”
“Presume away,” I interrupt, feeling my cheeks heat but holding his gaze. “I didn’t hike all this way for formal boundaries.”
For a moment, Roark’s perfectly still—that predator’s stillness that reminds me what he is beneath the civility. Then one tentacle extends, curling gently around my wrist like a question.
“Very well.” His voice has dropped to that rumbling register that makes my skin prickle.
