off limbs for me to reattach upside down or backwards?"
"Nah." He tucks his hands into his pockets standing so casually you'd think we were just friends talking in a coffee shop instead of sailing to only God knows where on a stolen pirate ship. "You've practiced enough for today."
"And?"
"And we're already where we need to be."
Part of me wants to furrow my brows and glare at him with his grand ability to be so radically vague, but the other part is too confused to even bother hiding the way my mouth pops open. His teeth rake over his bottom lip as he takes my hand, pulling me up to standing. I'm thankful he faces the door as he guides me away. I sneak a glance at my seat to see if it's as I feared. Yup. Booty-crack sweat has left behind a darker stain on the seat, forming the shape of both asscheeks. That better dry before we have a reason to come back in here.
Does someone as magnificent as Lincoln even gather sweat in places like that? Shouldn't my Fae body suddenly make this perfect pristine picture of grace and beauty? I thought some things would no longer be a problem once I got my magic back. I guess sweating through my underwear isn’t one of them. Shame.
Outside of the Captain's quarters, Lincoln pulls me to the back of the top deck, only stopping once we are pressed against the railing, looking over the edge. The wind has pushed us farther than I'd realized, even with the knowledge that this boat is particularly fast. Blue ocean waves that reflect the afternoon sun rise and fall in beautiful crests. Water surrounds us in all directions. My eyes sweep around, wondering where exactly the 'here' Lincoln speaks of actually is. On the boat? On the back of the boat?
Ziko points to the sea. "The only way to get home is to drown. That's the portal."
Twelve
I’ve Got A Tingling Sensation In My Pants
Drowning. In my mind I expect it feels like fire running through your veins, eating and burning up everything inside of you. It sounds terrible, just in the context of what I know from my human body. But to drown in this body? All my senses are sharper. I feel more.
"Are you sure?" Every ounce of sweat on my body turns to an icy sheen. I'm waiting for him to tell me which part of this is a joke. Hopefully all of it. Fucking hell.
"Yes. That's why hardly anyone comes back. That, and Anastasia doesn't want to lose the power she has... or the subjects. So no one knows."
With half numb fingers, I begin undoing my jacket. Lincoln watches, making no move to stop me. Shrugging out of the multiple layers, I place a hand on his shoulder, using it as leverage. The step is easier than I expect it to be as I balance on the edge of the railing.
I point at my coat. "We won't need that where we're going."
"And you know where this is going to spit us out?" He hums, but starts removing his own coat. "Fuck it. We can be cold together if it happens that way."
The railing shakes as Lincoln joins me on the ledge. I keep my feet planted, my eyes fixed on the abyss before us. If he's wrong, if the ocean won't take us back home, are these my last breaths? I take the largest inhale I can, holding it for a moment before I blow it out my nose.
"This puts a whole new meaning behind if your friend jumps off a cliff, would you?" I say nervously, my smile so brittle I'm afraid that if I lift it more, then I'll shatter my nerve and back out of what needs to be done. The question only leads me to wonder if perhaps I'm a little bit too trusting.
"If you jumped off a cliff, I would too." There isn't a hint of a joke on Lincoln's features. He stares at me, his gaze roaming over my face.
"This must truly be the height of romance, then. Some Romeo and Juliet shit, huh?" I nod to myself.
"I don't know what half the things you say mean, but I like the way you say them." Lincoln intertwines our fingers and gives me the slightest squeeze. "Count of three?"
"You count."
"Anything for you, my queen," he whispers, "Count of three."
The pounding of my heart is so loud I'm afraid I'll start bleeding out my ears as