She didn’t bother answering him as she passed.
Nothing had been a game today. That’s why it had gutted her to see Greyson motionless on that deck.
She stepped into the captain’s quarters and found Greyson sitting on the edge of the bed, wiping the blood from his chest with a towel. The cut was healing faster now, becoming a scar straight from his sternum to a couple of inches above his navel.
Maybe the Grail wouldn’t completely erase the damage done by the curse of the Tyrfing.
Maybe she had a matching mark. She’d have to check later.
He looked up, his gaze locked on hers, but there was no trace of emotion. “You made it. Hell of a fight.” His attention lowered to the sword at her side and back up to her face. “Did it work?”
“Yeah. No more curse.” She tapped the tip on the floor with a reassuring hollow thump. With her heart in her throat, she raised the Tyrfing. “I want you to have it.”
He eyed the legendary blade and finally shook his head slowly. “It’s yours. You earned it.”
“I never would have gotten it without you. We don’t need to keep it in the vault anymore now that the curse is lifted.” She screamed at herself to say something real, to tell him how she felt, but the words wouldn’t come. What would they change? Nothing.
Maybe it was better this way.
He stood, and her pulse raced. He took a step closer to her, his hand briefly brushing hers as he took the hilt and slid it free from her grasp.
Her entire beaten body ached for his touch, but she steeled herself against it.
He lifted the sword, inspecting the edge of the blade. Every chiseled muscle in his bare torso called to her.
But she didn’t allow herself to reach out.
He met her eyes again. “I’ll keep it in the armory.”
Her lips parted, her heart thundering in her ears. “I’m going to miss you.”
“No.” He laid the Tyrfing on the bed and crossed his arms. “Don’t. Ye don’t get to try to make me feel better with a trinket and yer pity.” He cleared his throat, reining in his accent. “I’m glad you survived. Your mission is complete. Nothing to keep you here.”
She shook her head. “It’s not pity. You’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”
He rolled his eyes and walked away with a cold chuckle. “I’m good enough to work with, good enough to fuck senseless, but not good enough to love.” He spun around, narrowing his eyes. “Thanks for the parting gift. Now get off my ship.”
His words were a verbal slap that snapped her out of her lovesick stupor.
It was definitely better this way. Time to get back to work.
She locked her jaw and started to turn for the door. She took one last glance over her shoulder, keeping her voice even. “Good-bye, Greyson.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Greyson waited for her footsteps to fade in the distance before he allowed himself to settle back onto the bed, cringing as his muscles ached.
He glared at the sword. He’d spent lifetimes imagining himself as tough as the Tyrfing, and here he sat, cut down by a beautiful, lethal, amazing woman.
While he’d been lost in the darkness of death, the only thread holding his soul to this earth had been Aura. He had envisioned seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, touching her skin. And when the Grail finally began to heal his mortal wounds and lead him back to the light, he’d opened his eyes only to find her lifeless body in a pool of blood on the deck. If he’d been capable of screaming, he would have. The thought of the world spinning without Aura in it had gutted him worse than the Tyrfing ever could.
And that scared the shit out of him.
She didn’t love him.
The thought of finding another woman to distract him from his unwelcome emotions flashed through his mind, but there was no flush of lust, no interest, no desire. He rubbed a hand down his face. There must be a way to banish this ache. The pain she left behind in her wake wasn’t a wound the Grail could heal. Maybe no one could.
He picked up his phone, struggling to keep from opening the gallery. But he didn’t have the fucking will. He stared at their smiling photo in front of Glasgow Cathedral, reopening the wound in his heart.
He should delete the blasted thing and wipe her from his memory.
Instead, he tucked his phone in his pocket and collected the Tyrfing as he left the captain’s chambers for the armory.
Their beloved Sea Dog had seen better days, but they could rebuild her. It would give him something else to focus on, other than the woman who had just walked out of his life.
As he turned the corner and entered the main deck, a helicopter lifted off from the dock. He resisted the urge to look up, to steal one last look at her beautiful face.
Good-bye, Greyson.
The echo of her words stung as he turned toward the helm, or what was left of it.
The big wheel still stood, but the wiring to the rutter underneath the ship was cut. They wouldn’t be able to turn while using the motor without it. Keegan glanced up from the spliced wires. His shirt was torn and stained with blood, but his shoulder underneath was already healed.
“Good to see you upright.” Keegan’s gaze dipped to Greyson’s chest and back up. “Looks like the Tyrfing left you with a parting gift, mate.”
Greyson glanced down at the scar with a smirk. The physical scar wasn’t all he’d gotten from this mission. Caleb got up from the deck to grab a pair of needle-nosed pliers from the tool box.
“She let you keep the sword?”
“Aye.” Greyson scanned the deck. “Where’s the rest of the crew?”
Keegan pointed to the galley. Or what was fucking left of it. The roof was collapsed underneath the mainmast, and the sails covered the rest, hiding the destruction from view. Keegan sighed. “Bob had his leg pinned when the mast came down. The others are prying the beast off him. He may be out now.”
“Damn it.” Greyson stared at the demon carcass littering what was left of the deck. “He cut holes all over the top deck. She’s gonna take a lot of work.”
“Aye.” Keegan nodded. “Colton wants to get the connections fixed on the motor and we’ll limp back to Savannah to dry-dock and make the repairs.”
“She’s still seaworthy, then?”
“The only damage is topside. Drake already walked the bilge. We’re not taking on any water.” Keegan went back to his wires. “He got a scratch, but he’ll heal up eventually. He’s below checking the cabins now.”
“I better lock this thing up. Then I can take care of the demon and swab what’s left of the deck.” Greyson turned and took the stairs below to the armory. Parts of the ceiling pressed down, so he had to duck his head, but his weapons locker was thankfully unharmed. He opened his cache and placed the Tyrfing inside.