Page 85 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

He shook his head. “Stay.”

“It’s nighttime,” she protested.

“And?”

“You don’t sleep now.”

“Aye, but you do. So stay with me. Sleep with me.”

Jory looked at him. At his unusual gray eyes, his stubble, the strong lines of his throat and neck, the nose that was crooked from having been broken more than once, the blond hair that she had wrecked when he’d kissed her, standing up at odd ends. He was rumpled and vulnerable and Jory couldn’t remember him ever looking more handsome.

“Won’t you be bored?”

He shook his head.

“Isn’t it weird to just watch me sleep?”

Another head shake.

“I’m not tired yet.”

He shrugged. “We can watch a movie.”

“What movie?”

“I dinnae care. Any movie ye like. But… will you stay?”

She hadn’t lied to him. Because she hadn’t made up her mind for sure. She reminded herself that she didn’t have to decide tonight. Or even this week. She had two more weeks. And then they’d go to Scotland. Two weeks to decide if this feeling was good enough to keep her, or if she could find a way to have everything she wanted all at once.

But she had to try. She promised him she would, after all.

“Okay,” she said, and climbed onto the bed. He pulled her close and tucked her against his side as he turned on the TV and began scrolling through various streaming apps. They settled on a comedy, though Jory didn’t pay much attention. She was listening to the way she could hear his laughter echo in his chest, how it reverberated without being dampened by other noises like a beating heart.

27

Callum’s head shot up from the frigid ocean and into the pearlescent light of the full moon.

Behind him, he heard a squeal and a shriek before a loud splash. A bark of laughter.

He spun and saw Jory’s head burst up from beneath the inky water, a brilliant smile stretching across her face.

“Lord above,” Nat said from where he sat, straddling a surfboard and floating nearby. “For people with immortal strength, you two have the shittiest damn balance I’ve ever seen.”

Callum shoved a hand through the water, sending a large splash in his direction.

“He’s not wrong,” Jory said. There was another squeal as Callum splashed her too. And then she was gone, dropped beneath the surface like a thrown stone.

Panic seized him. Where had she gone? In the space of a blink, he pictured something having snatched her, dragging her down. Why had he let Nat talk him into this ridiculous?—

Arms wrapped around his neck from behind, squeezing tightly. He jumped, surprised, and nearly wrenched them away. But a torso pressed against his back, long legs disturbed the water in similar rhythms as they treaded with his, kicking against the current.

“Gotcha,” Jory whispered in his ear.

“You scared me half to death, Jory,” he growled. “I thought something had… had… taken you.”

“Like what?” she laughed.

“I dinnae ken!” Callum spluttered. “Sharks or killer whales or a giant squid!”