Selix hid a chuckle under his breath, waiting for me to pad obediently after Elder. His usual sniper attention was muted, acting as if this was a common destination and one where not many monsters attacked. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
I nodded, my mouth opened in awe as I looked up at workers hanging like trapeze artists from the ceiling to attach something to a tall mast.
It’s more than impressive.
It’s—
“Ah, Mr. Prest!” A man dressed in blue overalls with goggles pushed up to his brow and dusty dark hair beamed. “What a pleasure.”
Elder slowed to a stop, holding out his hand. “Hello, Charlton. Anything to report since I was last here?” His body remained relaxed as they shook hands, but his tone weighed with underlying things.
“No, luckily, sir.” Charlton pulled his goggles off his head and cleaned the sawdust-covered lens with his cuff. “Not many shenanigans can occur in the time since you were here last.”
Did Elder come here when he left a couple of weeks ago? Is this where he went in the helicopter? If he had, why visit again so soon? Surely, he wasn’t required to oversee the operation that closely. If he did, he would never be able to sail around the world untethered to land commitments.
I still had many things to learn about Elder, but I did know one thing—he despised land. He barely tolerated Morocco, and we were there for only a couple of days. He’d seemed anxious in Crete when he stole me. He turned into an assassin looking for his next enemy while on soil, but on the sea he sighed in relief and let the waves rock him back to sanity.
“I’ve seen entire wars start and end in a few days,” Elder said quietly. “But I’m glad to hear everything is fine. How is the current project coming along?”
His manager grasped the change of subject, able to answer with gusto now the small chitchat was over. “Very good, sir. I know we said eight months for delivery, but it’s looking more like six. The workers have got the initial build complete. The new machinery you installed has cut down on a lot of time wastage.”
“I’m glad.” Elder waved at the warehouse and its bustling mayhem. “May we?” Glancing back at me, he added, “A tour would be nice for my…friend.”
My heart scowled at the phrase. I should be happy to be called his friend. We were technically friends. But would friends force themselves on one another while the other refused to talk? Would friends act as if he’d been given a life sentence when asked to spend more time together?
What do you want him to call you then? Lover? Captive? Guest?
All those were as unwanted as friend, yet I couldn’t come up with a word that I preferred.
Liar.
I could come up with one.
Boyfriend…
Partner.
Ridiculous, Pim!
He was neither a boy nor my friend—as I’d just deduced. And partner? Wow, that was a stretch. The connotations that word hinted at weren’t true. He wasn’t my partner. He could never relax enough to allow another person to share his life the way a partnership demanded.
He was my protector.
That’s all.
And for now, that’s all I could ask for.
All I wanted.
Lying again.
I wanted more.
I wanted what other men and women had.
Don’t I?
Was that another lie?
If I wanted a physical relationship as well as emotional, why couldn’t I untwine the enjoyment I had for his kisses from the fear of full-on sex? Why did I still live with the fangs of a panic attack coiled in my chest like a venomous viper?
Elder was a fully grown man with needs—needs he’d hinted at. Needs he controlled thanks to a calming drug.
That’s not normal.
Is it?
I hadn’t dabbled much in the dating pool, but relying on drugs to combat a personality flaw was never a good sign.
“A tour? Yes, of course!” Charlton bounced into gear, charging ahead. “It would be my honour to show off the Hammerhead.”
Elder rolled his eyes. “Call her something else. The owner who commissioned her is no longer interested in completing the deal.”
Charlton stopped, his face falling. “Oh dear, that’s upsetting.”
Elder grinned, evil and smug. “Believe me; it’s the best news I’ve had in a while.”
“In that case then…great.” Charlton smiled, snapping his goggles back into prime position on his forehead.
“Lead on.” Wrapping his arm around my waist, Elder pulled me forward and deeper into the warehouse. With Charlton a little ahead of us, he whispered, “Take a guess who this yacht was for, Pim.”
My nose tickled with the scents of saw-dust, resin, and beeswax. Too many workers to count all added to the melody of hard work and companionship. A laugh here, a cough there, all serenaded by the clack and whirr of tools.
Moving closer to the almost completed hull, my neck craned back as I struggled to see to the top. The skeletal frame of whatever floating beauty this would be was massive but still not as big as the Phantom.