Never (Never, #1) (123)

Jem crosses over the small distance I put between us, places a hand on my face. “It is, my love,” he tells me gently, and I stare over at him.

I swallow, and it hangs there for a couple of seconds.

I stare up at him, my face still in a residual strain from what he just said before.

“You’ve never called me that before.”

“I ken.” He nods, his cheeks going a bit pink. He gives me a little shrug. “Thought I’d try it out.”

“And?” I ask, eyebrows up and waiting.

He nods. “I like it.”

I smile a little bit. “I like it too.”

He presses his lips into mine for a few seconds before he pulls back. “He’s bad, Daph.”

“Jem,” I sigh. “Sometimes he plays and he forgets, and I’m sure it was an accident.” I stare up at him because I am sure.

He wouldn’t do that.

“Peter probably thought his brother really was there on the island still. Peter’s thoughtless. He’s not—he’s not murderous.”

“Why did he leave Orson on an island in the first place?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug, desperate to believe it’s not true. It can’t be. “Maybe he didn’t realise, or—”

Jem shakes his head and turns away from me. “Forbye, heed what you need to then.”

“I’m not trying to fight with you.” I walk after him, grabbing his arm.

He turns back around and gives me a solemn look. “Nor I you.” He touches my face. “It’s just half my crew are men I found about marooned on islands by yer boy.”

I dig my chin into his chest and give him a look. “He is not my boy.”

“Then why are ye defending him like he is?”

I breathe out my nose. “I just think there’s some kind of misunderstanding.”

Jem cups my face in both his hands. “I hope, my love.” Then he kisses my forehead before he nods his head another direction. “Care to take a dander up the mountain?”

“No, I’m happy enough in town.” I shrug.

Jamison’s face pulls. “We d?nnae want it getting back to him, sure we don’t.”

“Oh!” I blink. “Do we not?”

Then he rolls his eyes, big and exaggerated. “Bow, let me have a fucking day afore all hell breaks loose.” He sighs dramatically. “I just want ye a day.”

I purse my lips, supposing that’s a reasonable enough request. “Fine.”

Jem extends me his hand, but before I take it, I dart over to Brodie, throwing my arms around him.

“I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding, but I’m so glad to see you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Brodie nods. “I’ll see you around, Daph.”

I wave to Orson and then run back over to Hook. “Have you seen Rune around lately?” I ask Jamison.

“No.” He gives me a smile. It’s breezy, unworried. “She’s probably just giving us space.”

“Yes, but I haven’t told her there is an us.”

He gives me a look. “Sure, as though she daesnae know herself anyway?” He rolls his eyes, and up the mountain we trek.

The walk up is spent learning about each other, more than we already know.

Jamison’s dad died five years ago,* at the hand of Peter, but Jem doesn’t hold that over him. He said his dad deserved it.

He’s close with his mother, obviously. Raised by a Scottish nanny. Controversially, he did not attend Eton like his father; instead he went to boarding school in Armagh, Ireland, because the principal there was an old friend of his mother’s. I asked “How old?” and he laughed and said, “Very.” After, he attended Oxford to study literature, which is probably why he’s so romantic and beautiful.

To the best of his knowledge, he’s inherited none of his mother’s magic, but he says she says if he tried, it’d be in him. His favourite food is a Sunday dinner. His first kiss was a girl from the village called Claire. His best kiss is me. He likes winter best; it reminds him of his mum. He didn’t want to be a pirate, but it was the family trade. He’s killed more people than he’s slept with, which was a fact that elicited quite the look from me. He insists it’s not as severe a crime here as it is back on Earth but that he’s “trying to cut back.” He said that as though he was talking about smoking.

We kiss our way up the mountain, against trees, against boulders, in fields of wildflowers, in the snow— I pause, looking around us, then back at him.

“Do you know what this place is?”

“I might do.” He nods, a small smile spreading over his face. “Do ye ken what this place is?”

“Aye.” I nod, imitating him with a big smile.

“Aye.” He laughs, hand around my waist. “D?dnae ye put it away?”

“I remembered,” I tell him, cheeks going hot.

He nudges my nose with his, then kisses it. “Did ye?”

I nod.

“When?”

I do my best to squash away a smile, but it doesn’t work, and I just start laughing.

“Ah!” He nods knowingly. “I ken bedding ye would be a good idea.”

I keep laughing, and his arms slip all the way around me before his mouth brushes over mine.