The Desired Victim

Chapter 40: This Will to Live and Die

I wept in Emory's arms until I couldn't any longer. My hysterical sobbing had finally reduced itself to small hiccups, and I started to breathe normally once again. I was surprised at myself for even possessing the energy to cry so much, since all my body wanted to do was collapse into a deep sleep. I felt so weary, and I was frightened that if I shut my eyes, even for a moment, I could possibly never wake up again.

Emory hadn't said a word; he remained silent with one hand on my back, while the other caressed my hair. I was overwhelmed with the scent of blood and sweat in his shirt, so I focused on the slow beating of his heart inside his broad chest to calm myself down. We were both only barely alive. It wouldn't be long before Emory bled out, and it wouldn't be long before I gave in to the pain throbbing across my skull. Or the utter hopelessness of the situation we were now in. It was a miracle we had even made it this far. The fog was still thick, and the hidden sun only continued to climb higher in the sky, also increasing the temperature. I felt ready to give in to exhaustion.

So why couldn't I?

The very thought of coming all this way, enduring so much, and finally escaping from Cassandra's wretched ship, only to die in a bloody rowboat stranded in the middle of the ocean was sickening. I simply wouldn't allow it. I couldn't. I had to stop crying, I had to stop pretending that someone else would save us. It was up to me. I had to keep going.

I find myself pulling away from Emory, breaking free from his arms. He looks at me in bewilderment, almost as if he had forgotten where he was and what the two of us were doing. My face flashes hot with embarrassment as his eyes rest on my face. What was I doing, crying like a small child, when I should be rowing to shore? I had already wasted precious minutes feeling sorry for myself, and I couldn't imagine that weeping had put Emory in any less pain.

"I apologize," I say to Emory quickly. I wipe my nose and take a deep breath. "I need to keep rowing, and we need to get to shore, and once we find help . . ."

I fumble around with the oars awkwardly, and then hiss from the stinging pain in my freshly blistered hands. Before I could even make a single stroke, Emory grabs my wrists, causing me to freeze.

"Honeybird . . ." he says quietly. "Wait."

"Wait?" I croaked. The desire for water burned my dry throat mercilessly.

"Please . . ." Emory says tiredly. He closes his eyes slowly, keeping his hands gripped on my wrists. "Hold on."

My heart flutters spastically at his voice. It was the softest I had heard Emory speak in a long time. In fact, the last time I heard his voice so softly spoken was when he almost kissed me all of those nights ago. It feels like it's been years. I stared at his face, still more handsome than ever. Long, dark eyelashes fanned out on pale skin, and his eyebrows were knitted together in a wince. He had strong and lovely features for a man, and it was a realization that I always ended up reminding myself about. I fought back the urge to place my palm on his stubbled jawbone, or to drag my fingers across his forehead. For the thousandth time since I'd known him, I wondered how it would feel to have his lips pressed against mine.

A thought appeared in my head.

Emory and I both knew that we were dying. We were both weak, capable of falling over dead at any moment. If we didn't make it to shore, we'd only have a few more hours left to live at the most. Whether we died by lack of hydration, or loss of blood, it didn't matter. So would it be so terrible to just . . . kiss Emory before everything ended? Just once? How would he react? Would I even dare?

I stared at the blood stains in his clothes, the sweat dripping off the tips of his hair, the pain burned in his face. Images of Emory being brutally slaughtered and screaming in pain replayed themselves inside of my mind. How could I even think about just lying down, kissing Emory, and accepting our inevitable deaths? How could I even think about something so childish and foolish? Internally scolding myself, I snapped myself away from my desperate, irrational, and selfish thoughts. We were going to survive. We had to try.