Chapter Twenty-Eight

Colton and Skye both sat up just as a skiff came into view. Drake kept his eye on the boat, gunning the engine. “Banshee’s gone silent?”

Skye rubbed her forehead. “For now.”

As they neared the boat, Drake’s pulse raced. It was empty. “No. Fuck. No.” He glanced at Colton. “Take the wheel.”

He swapped places with his quartermaster, dread taking up residence in his gut. He was too fucking late. Drake yanked his shirt over his head and patted the pocket of his jeans. The root was still there. He took his gun from the holster and dropped it onto his shirt as Colton slowed the boat.

Drake dove into the warm Atlantic, pushing his exhausted body to the limit. He was a strong swimmer, but he hadn’t been this tired in centuries. Blood stained the side of the small skiff, and his heart sank. He spun around in the water and spotted a crimson trail of blood. He took a deep breath and dove under the surface. A few feet down he caught the glint of silver hair. Heather. Using the last ounce of energy he had left, he shot through the water and caught her around the waist.

He struggled to bring them both back up, kicking his legs until they broke through the surface of the ocean. She coughed out water, her voice raspy as she yelped in pain. He loosened his grip and noticed the wound to her abdomen.

“Shit. Hold on, love.”

He moved in front of her and turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck. With her on his back, he swam toward Colton and Skye.

“I love you,” she whispered as her grip on him slid free.

Drake’s heartbeat pounded like a drum in his ears as he reached for her with one arm and the boat with the other. The muscles in his chest screamed in agony as he gripped the edge.

Colton caught his arm. “Bring her closer to the boat. I’ll lift her up.”

He helped Colton with Heather, then attempted to pull himself up. His arms trembled with effort. Before he sank back into the water, Colton gripped his forearms. “On three, mate.”

Drake counted, and he made it into the boat. Drake scrambled to Heather’s side. Blood still oozed from her abdomen, and he had no idea how much blood she’d already lost in the water.

Skye offered some towels from the console. Drake didn’t take them, but instead he shoved a trembling hand into his pocket, feeling for the pouch from the root doctor. “Hang on, angel. Please. I can’t lose you.” She was still, too still, no longer breathing. He bent to kiss her cool lips, his chest clenching tight. “You brought me back into this world. Don’t leave me behind now.”

He fumbled with the drawstring on the root from Miss Bianca. The wax seal snapped and he dug out a piece. Parting her blue-tinted, cracked lips, he placed the root on her tongue as a tear rolled down his cheek. He was too fucking late.

“Please, love, breathe.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I got here as soon as I could. Please don’t leave me, Heather. We’ve got so much living to do.” He stroked her soft cheek, choking on a sob. “I love you.”

Heather coughed, and the remainder of the root slipped from his fingers, landing on the bottom of the boat as he lifted Heather’s torso, his heart leaping out of his damned chest.

Her eyes fluttered open. “I’m not…dying today.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He clutched her close to his chest as another tear rolled down his cheek. He lifted his head, shouting to Colton, “Heather needs a hospital.”

Colton pointed up at the sky. “Bale’s on his way with a helicopter.”

A motor rumbled in the distance as Drake reached down to scoop up the soggy pouch and tucked it back into his pocket, not ready to let it go yet.

The helicopter came into view and hovered over the boat. Bale lowered a stretcher, and Drake placed Heather inside, fastening the ties around her. Her face and hands were sunburned and already starting to blister, her lips still blue and cracked, but her chest rose and fell in slow breaths. Alive.

That was all that mattered.

Drake kissed her cheek. “I’ll meet you at the hospital, love.”

When he stepped back, the crane on the helicopter lifted Heather toward the aircraft. Once she was inside, the copter shot forward toward Savannah.

Drake sank into a seat, exhausted both mentally and physically. The salt water stung the wound in his hand. He barely registered the pain. Heather was alive. He peered up at Colton. “Can you pilot us back to my dock?”

Colton nodded, concern lining his face. “When are you going to tell me what’s going on? Why hasn’t your hand healed?”

Drake untied the towel, exposing the stab wound in his hand. “Looks like I’m going to grow old with you after all, mate.”

“What?” Colton’s eyes widened. “How? You drank from the cup again when we found it. It couldn’t have worn off.”

“I paid a root doctor for a spell and ended up trading my immortality to Met Agwe for the magic to bring someone back from the dead.” Drake rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. “I wasn’t going to let Heather walk into Ashley’s house without a backup plan.”

Colton shook his head. “Hefty price to pay.”

“I’d do it all over again. I love that woman. I’m not going to let anything happen to her.”

Colton glanced at Skye. “I know that feeling.”

Skye tried not to smile, crossing her arms. “Enough romantic gestures. Is there a first aid kit on this boat?”

Drake nodded. “Inside the front console where you found the towels.”

“Good. I’ll get your hand cleaned up.” She bumped her hip against Colton’s as she passed by. “You get us back to the dock so we can meet Heather at the hospital.”

“Aye, captain.” Colton grinned, starting the engine.

Seeing them together, a team, made Drake’s lonely existence pale. Being with Heather had given him a taste of that bond. Until her, he’d been fine on his own, but now…she’d shown him what it was like to have a partner, to know someone would miss him if he were gone.

Skye returned with iodine, gauze pads, and tape. All he wanted was for Colton to get them back to land. He needed to be with Heather, to be sure she was safe.

He took the supplies, glancing up at Skye as he cleaned the wound. “Tell me she’s going to be all right.”

Skye nodded with a knowing smile. “She’s a tough lady.”

“Aye.” He winced as the iodine burned his open skin. “I’ve got to get to her.”

Colton glanced over his shoulder. “What about her sister?”

“She must’ve stabbed Heather. I didn’t see her body in the water.” Drake shrugged. “I guess Davy Jones collected on their bargain.”

“Hope so.” Colton shouted over the wind. “Land ho!”

Drake wrapped his hand quickly and readied the line to tie the boat to the dock. Colton throttled back on the motor and guided the boat alongside the dock. Drake couldn’t wait any longer. He jumped across, taking the line with him.

“Little eager to get ashore?” Colton grinned.

“Aye.” Drake looped the rope around the iron cleat on the dock. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he called over his shoulder as fast as his exhausted mortal body would allow.

…

Heather woke to the beeping of a heart monitor. She turned her head and smiled at her snoozing visitor. Drake was slumped in a chair, sleeping beside her. How long had she been in the hospital? She peered underneath her hospital gown to find the hole in her abdomen had been replaced by a neat line of stitches.

It was over. Relief and regret stewed in her heart. Ashley wouldn’t hurt anyone else, but their last moments together would haunt Heather forever. If there had been any other way to stop her twin, she would have taken it. In the end, Ashley left her with no choice.

Kill or be killed.

She forced the dark thoughts away, focusing on Drake again. He’d come for her, just like she knew he would. She allowed her gaze to wander down from his face, to his shoulders, and down to his…bandaged hand. She frowned. Shouldn’t the stab from her sister be healed?

A nurse walked into the room, and Drake jerked awake in the chair. His gaze locked on Heather’s, and the beep on the heart monitor picked up the tempo.

“You’re awake.” His voice sounded scratchy and gruff.

Heather nodded, ignoring the nurse buzzing around to check the monitors and IV fluid. “So are you.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “How long have I been here?”

He glanced at the clock and back to her face. “Day and a half.” He stood, came to her bedside, and took her hand.

Her thumb brushed over the wrap on his hand.

“Everything looks great,” the nurse interrupted. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”

“Thank you.” Heather waited until they were alone and whispered, “Why isn’t your hand healed up?”

Drake brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Long story, love.” He straightened. “I need to tell you something first.”

“Okay.” She had plenty to tell him, too, like how she had been shortsighted to push him away, and how it had been her love for him that kept her fighting out on that boat, and maybe even tell him how much she wanted to share her life with him however long that might be.

She waited as the seconds ticked by.

Drake squeezed her hand. “I want to respect your wishes, but I’m begging you not to ask me to walk out of your life. Until you, I never had one. I’ve been alive for almost two hundred and fifty years, existing and going through the motions. You showed me that being alive and just living are two different things. I don’t want to live in a world without you beside me.”

Heather’s vision clouded as tears burned her eyes. “I know I said it would be best for you if I walked away, but…I can’t. I don’t want to.” She swallowed, fighting to get the words out. “I was scared of what the future could hold for us, but when I was trapped on that boat with Ashley, all I could think about was how I would’ve given anything for one more day with you. If you’re willing to watch me get older and hold my hand when people start thinking you’re my son, then I’d count myself lucky.”

She lifted his bandaged hand to her lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back. “Can we just pretend I never had that conversation with One-Eyed Bob?”

Drake chuckled, and the sight of his smile warmed her all over. “Aye.”

He cupped her face, his gaze like a caress before he bent to kiss her. She hummed into the kiss, sighing as he pulled back. When she opened her eyes, she caught his hand. “Why haven’t you healed?”

“Greyson connected me with a local root doctor.” He shifted his weight, breaking eye contact. “I couldn’t lose you.” His gaze met hers again. “I needed something to bring you back in case we lost the fight with Ashley. The root doctor works magic with her Loa, Met Agwe.”

“My grandmother used to tell me about the root doctors. Loas like to make deals.” Heather inspected his hand before shaking her head. “What did you trade?”

He unwrapped the bandage, exposing the red angry skin around the stab wound. “I’m not immortal anymore.”

She must’ve looked like a fish gasping for air. She couldn’t find words. Finally she choked out, “You could have died.”

He shrugged as he rewrapped his hand. “You were the one Ashley wanted.”

“Drake!” Heather gave his arm a weak shove as a tear spilled down her cheek. “I could have lost you. You had eternity in your hands. Why would you trade that away?”

He braced himself on either side of her hospital bed, leaning in until his forehead rested on hers. His breath warmed her lips as he whispered, “I’ve seen forever, love. I would rather have you.”

Her fingers slid back into his hair as she drew him close, kissing him over and over. When she released him, she searched the ocean in his eyes. “You didn’t have to give up immortality for me.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He took her hand, threading their fingers together. “Will you grow old with me?”

Nothing in the world could’ve wiped the smile off her face as she nodded. “Aye.”

He raised a brow, growling, “Love it when you speak pirate.”

She laughed and clung to him as his lips met hers.

The future was suddenly very bright.