Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

20 | The Desire of Uncertainty

A door slammed down the hall, shocking Archer awake. In his scramble, he bashed his head into the bunk above him—the now-empty bunk, thanks to Kerian.

Running a hand through his hair, tried to get his bearings. He was still fully dressed in a crisp's uniform, and the moonlight still streamed through the porthole. There were the telltale noises of the crew celebrating somewhere above him, wild and loud. And the slam? It came from the door at the end of the hall—the corner room. Her room.

She was sleeping there more and more the last few weeks, but never once had she slammed the door. He blinked the tired feeling from his eyes as he lulled over it in his head. Maybe Bardarian had pissed her off. Maybe she was mad over Tanner. Or maybe she had been trying to get Archer's attention.

He threw himself back on the bed with drama. She didn't slam doors out of anger; there was method to everything she did. He slid his legs off the bed and stood, walking over, placing a hand on the door handle.

Something about you, Kingsley. I don't know what it is, love.

He could feel the evening air, the smell of the salt in her hair, the echo of her words. It had to be magic, something more than just her. He felt like he was being pulled, every part of him.

He took his hand off the handle. He could beat this. He had last time.

You make me want to risk everything I have.

He put his hand back on the handle and twisted, tossing his previous thoughts to the wind and letting the breeze carry them away. She baited him with those lines. She wanted him to remember them, and what she wanted, she got.

He made his way down the eerie hallway, footsteps quiet. When he made it to the end, he didn't knock. She expected him to come, and he knew that. Instead, he simply twisted the handle and pushed it open. The room was expansive and beautiful, but there was only one thing worth noting.

She sat there on the bed, one leg underneath her and one off to the side. She looked up when he entered, ethereal as ever with those bright eyes in the low lighting.

"Kingsley," she said.

He shut the door behind him, leaning back against the wood, heart thundering in his chest. It was dark in there, too warm, too stuffy. He was too far away from her and he was much too close.

"What did Bardarian want?" he asked, glancing up at the ceiling. In the commotion of adventure, interacting with her was almost easy, almost right. But here, now, while her hawklike gaze analyzed his every word and movement, where they both had unspoken expectations, it wasn't easy nor right.

"More power," she replied. She leaned back on her hands, the tan skin over her collarbones smooth and flawless.

"What more could he want?" he asked. This conversation was a waste of time, a silly pre-show that no one would remember.

"You could put it together," she said. "If you thought about it."

"I can't say I particularly like thinking about you and him."

One side of her lips curled a little, but it came off mischievous and twisted rather than just amusing. "He's a powerful man," she said. "I like power; it's a hard thing for me to obtain."

He grinned, shaking his head. "You love to throw that around. You're a woman, and that's such a disadvantage."

"You don't think it's a disadvantage, Kingsley?" she asked, now just amused.

"Not at all," he replied. "I think it's an advantage."

She laughed like she found the insinuation to be hilarious. He'd heard her laugh before, but it had always been mocking or pointed. This was just pure, unrefined amusement.