Snowbird [18+] ✔️ Complete

| XXIX |

"You're quiet," Pagan said, though he seemed on edge too. There were undertones of excitement in his eyes, but nervousness as well.

It was the twenty-seventh day.

Ashelin picked at her white wine mussels with a sigh. "I'm ready. For what's coming. I'm just not ready for what I might find when I get there," she said honestly.

Pagan stood, crossed to the bar, and poured two shots of bourbon. He slid one away from himself and she got up.

He raised his shot and she lifted hers in response.

"To tragic love," he said, and they both downed the dark liquid.

Ashelin moaned at the burn in her throat. She hadn't drank alcohol since Rook island, and hadn't realized she'd missed it.

He poured two more. "Ishwari loved bourbon. For being from a culture that objectifies their women, she broke the norm."

"She must have been quite a woman." Ashelin circled the top of her glass with her finger.

"She was," he said. "She was the strongest person I've ever known." He took the shot and Ashelin followed suit.

"Why didn't you go after her, when she left for America?" she asked.

His icy eyes flashed anger as he slammed the empty glass down.

"Because I hated her. I hated her for making me love her so much and then running from me." He poured a third shot. "I thought she was weak, afraid of staying here, unsure that I could protect her from these savages. I didn't realize that it was me she needed to protect herself from."

"That's bullshit." Ashelin took her third shot, feeling warm and brave. "She should have stayed, and fought for you."

Pagan was lightning fast. Before she could even register he had her throat in his hand.

"She killed her husband for me," he growled. "She was protecting her child from this life."

"Then why did she send him here?" Ashelin choked out.

He flung her sideways and she staggered, leaning her hand on the wall beside his painting.

"I don't know." His voice was eerily calm as he poured another drink.

Her head swam with emotions she didn't know how to control. "Maybe she felt guilty that she never told her kid about you, so she sent him into a fucking war zone. Maybe she wanted you to all die together."

Pagan slowly drank the shot and turned to face her. "And you?" he asked. "You're so noble and perfect, because you're running back to your psychotic pirate?"

She took a step towards him but he was too fast again, pinning her against his likeness in a twisted sandwich.

He held her throat but didn't squeeze, and she reached up to hit him but he caught her wrist.

"We're both fucked," he hissed. "There's no redemption for people like us. No happy fucking ending."

"I know that." Ashelin's voice cracked.

He slammed her against the wall and the picture frame dug painfully into her lower back, sending sparks of pleasure to places it shouldn't.

"We can distract ourselves from this bleak existence." Pagan's voice was low. She turned her head and he forced it back. "What's the matter? Afraid you won't like it?"

"No." She breathlessly met his gaze. "I'm afraid that I will."