Novari woke from the feeling of being watched.

She wasn't a big dreamer, but she felt it even before she was conscious. Someone was in her corner room, perched there in the dark, watching.

She rolled onto her stomach in sleep, so her back was to the door. She couldn't confirm visually that someone was there, but Minnow had been curled on the opposite pillow when Novari fell asleep, and now the cat had taken to pawing at her ear, as if to wake her up.

It was just a cat, but cats knew things people didn't. Its movement, plus the hairs standing on the back of her neck told her all she needed to know. She kept her eyes closed until the terror of him being there overpowered her common sense. She rolled over tiredly, as though she were still asleep. Minnow backed away, resettling into her jaw.

With her head titled downward, Novari cracked her eyes open just a slit.

He was there, by the door, lean body against the frame, black eyes nothing but a void in the darkness. The door was wide open, him in the opening. The hallway was dark behind him, and the glow of the ocean settled in through the window. The room was silent, but Everson's gaze was anything but.

Novari stayed deadly still. Was he planning her death? Simply watching her? She had reason to believe he might want to get rid of her. With all she knew about his age, his talent, his lack of fear for death, it certainly would make sense.

Perhaps he was planning the best way to go about it. If he simply slit her throat, everyone would have questions. Still, he could get away with pinning it on someone else, if he did it right. In fact, if he pinned it on Bardarian, it might be enough to steal away the captain's hat.

Everson was too good not to fear. Novari wasn't entirely sure she could beat him unless it was the best of circumstances. If he caught her off guard, without a weapon, he could win. If Novari died fighting, so be it, but if she died without a single person knowing who truly did it, that would be a nightmare come true.

If she put a lock on her door, Everson would know she knew about his nightly activities. She couldn't sleep and risk some gory death at his hands. She had to do something. Her fingers began to shake with fear, and her eyes became exhausted form keeping them closed against her will.

Finally, she stole a glance again. He was still there, but now she could see the glint of a knife in his hand as he moved through the frame of the door slowly. She kept her eyes open just enough to see through the bottom but closed enough so it looked like she was sleeping soundly.

He crouched down next to her. Novari's heart began to slow, long and hard. Could she win? She'd startle him by fighting back, for sure, but she wouldn't have time to get her knife. Her mind worked furiously, trying to find a way out.

He reached out and brushed the hair out of her face. She tried her best to not to flinch, to keep her face deadly still. What could she do? Should she move? Should she wait for the best moment?

"I don't know what to do with you," he whispered, his voice low and quiet.

He ran a finger down her arm, over her stomach, her waist, then her hips. His finger was heavy and dirty, taunting her.

Novari's breath threatened to hitch as he brought a knife to her throat, gently moving it to her collarbone. He was going to kill her. Right here, right now. That was his plan. He poised his knife over her heart, and Novari paused in her defense.

If he stabbed her in the heart, she could still have a few seconds of screaming before she died. It was not an instant death, and he was not stupid enough to make that mistake. Why the heart? Why wouldn't he go for the throat?

"Trust me, doll," he muttered softly. "It doesn't hurt."

It clicked. Who he was, what he was trying to do to her and her precious ticking heart. And that—the infinite life he would force her into—that was worse than any death.

She twisted slightly, as if she were waking up. She let out a long breath, and he retreated quickly. He slipped out the door as she opened her eyes.

"Sociopath," Novari whispered to the darkness. "Undead sociopath."

She moved her legs and stood. She snatched the knife from her nightstand, then scooped up Minnow into her arms. If he came back and she was gone, he'd kill another cat, without a doubt.

She moved quickly, her footsteps nonexistent on the wooden stairs. The ship was deadly quiet, the moisture from the earlier rain collecting on the undersides of everything. She held her knife out as protection, eyes flickering from side to side.

"You're up early, doll."

Novari whirled around, stepping back up a stair. He was there, forming from the darkness, the glint of his knife nowhere to be seen.

She took another step up, holding the knife out. Minnow curled into her collarbone, desperate to get away.

"What's the knife for, doll?" he asked. He reached the bottom step, leaving her frozen in terror. She couldn't kill him. No matter what she did, she couldn't kill him.

Novari took another step up, her heel finally hitting the deck. She was a fast runner, and she might be able to make it to the balcony steps before him, but all the way up? She had her doubts. And what if the captain's quarters were locked? What if the only thing she accomplished by running to Bardarian was making it easier for Everson to paint him as her killer? She could picture the scene, him walking out in the morning, knocking his foot right into her cold, bloody body. The woman he loves, dead on his doorstep.

Everson took the first step, black eyes glittering. The knife wasn't in his hands, but she was sure he had it.

Novari shuddered as a cold wind crept from the deck. She had to run. He would just keep taking the stairs, and she would just keep backing up until one of them made a move.

He smiled, catching her thought process. He leaned forward, agile hand on the railing, yellow teeth glinting. "You run, I run," he whispered.

Novari took a deep breath, holding his gaze. She felt the time slow, felt her clock ticking. She would have to beat him to the balcony. My door is never locked, stunner. But what about now? What about after all she'd said?

Bardarian's door would have to be unlocked.

Minnow mewled in fear. She could drop the cat—she'd be faster—but it had warned her. She couldn't leave it behind.

Time ticked, slow and fast. She felt the moisture of the air around her.

She turned and sprinted, refusing to look back. She reached out a hand to the balcony and jumped over the railing, skipping a few steps. She fumbled with the handle with her free hand, hearing his footsteps on the bottom step. She could feel the air from his movement, feel the scent of him coming up to meet her.

She threw the door open and fell through, slamming her body back against it, pulling with all her might to keep it closed. He pulled back against her, wrestling with the handle from the other side. She planted her feet on the frame, but he was still pulling, still fighting. Minnow darted away to the door to Bardarian's room.

Novari felt darkness curl around her fingertips, through her head. She shook it away, her breath coming in quick, ragged paces. The door started to bend, pulling inwards. Was he really that strong?

The black started to diffuse through the door, reaching out for her. Her senses began to dull, the scratching sound of Minnow's claws against the door all she could hear. She glanced over at the cat, fighting to get through Bardarian's door to wake him up. In all her panic, she hadn't thought to call for him.

She opened her mouth to scream his name, but she inhaled the black air around her, and it choked her. She fought with the handle as the door rattled back and forth between them, struggling for her voice.

She let go of the handle, falling to the ground, shuffling back. "Vallin!" she screamed, voice cracking from the pitch. She shoved back as fast as she could. "Vallin!" She threw out her hands, kicked away, trying to protect herself from what was coming through the door.

"Silta?"

Novari was still gasping for breath, still crawling back on the ground when she saw Bardarian moving in the frame to her right.

Novari fought for air, then pointed at the door with shaking fingers.

He glanced over, but the door to the captain's quarters was closed, no Everson, no black smoke. She was about to declare herself insane before hearing the quiet, nearly unrecognizable sound of footsteps padding down the balcony steps.

Bardarian opened the door at her lack of a reply, glancing around. He looked back at her. "There's nothing there, darling," he said.

She shook her head, because he had been there, and he had been about to kill her on the floor of the captain's quarters, crawling away from that black smoke that followed him. She'd been about to die there, just paces away from Bardarian.

"I can't die like this," she whispered, still shaking her head. "I won't die like this."

Bardarian closed the door, watching her carefully. He took a step closer. "What happened?"

"I'm scared of dying," Novari told him, her spine hitting the coffee table behind her, "but I'm so much more scared of never dying." She took ragged breaths, existentialism clawing away at her insides. "I'm scared of loving you," she whispered, "but I'm so much more scared of never loving anyone."

He reached down for her wrist, pulling her up to stand. "Breathe, Novari. Tell me what happened."

"I never used you. I came to you because I wanted you. I let you believe otherwise because I was scared I wouldn't be able to get out of it if I told you the truth."

He searched her eyes, calm, solid. He placed a hand on the back of her head, forcing her to look straight ahead rather than continue darting her gaze around the room.

"Believe me," she said. "Please believe me."

"I believe you, stunner. Tell me what happened just now."

"He was watching me from the door. He put a knife to my throat. He wants to make me unkillable like him. He wants to force me into immortality so I won't pick you. I pick you. I pick you, I pick you."

"Who wants that? Everson?"

Novari nodded furiously, glancing at the door. It was true, it was all true. She'd never been so close to death, had never breathed it in through her lungs. She couldn't die distancing herself from what she wanted because of those stupid rules. She couldn't do it.

"Why does he think you'll pick me?" Bardarian was asking. "Does he know what happened?"

Novari looked up at him, trying to calm herself down. She reached for his shirt, made sure he wouldn't leave her alone. "He has to. He wouldn't do this otherwise."

He followed her gaze to the door, taking her wrists in his hands. She reached out to him again, and he hushed her. "I'm not leaving, Novari. Relax. You're panicking."

"I was panicked, but I still meant it. Forget how I asked for strategist. Forget all those awful things I said. Let me stay."

"Novari—"

"I know I'm difficult. I know I keep score too much and I know I cut you off when you can't stand it. I know you think I have everything figured out, that every action of mine is calculated, but it's not. I'm not just cutthroat and power-hungry, I'm lost and I'm scared of everything—of a repetitive life, of Everson, of death, of not dying, of love, of losing you, I'm scared of everything. Let me stay."

"I'm letting you stay, Novari. Calm down."

"Do you believe me?"

"I believe you."

She pulled him in, settling her head on his shoulder, smelling the wax and the linen. So she'd break one rule. She'd let herself have him, let herself feel safe in his arms and his aura at night. So what if they'd call her his doe-eyed deckhand, so what? She'd get past it one day, wouldn't she? She might not even fall in love. She could just stay like this, liking him but not needing him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "For the things I said. I was trying to hurt you."

"You did," he told her, his thumb brushing the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it."

She felt him nod, felt the movement of his head, the strength of his forearms and his shoulders. It was so safe, there, even with Everson so close.

"I don't want to love you," she said quietly. "I just want to stay. Please don't expect me to love you."

"We'll see," he replied, some tone to his voice implying he thought she was too far gone already.

She closed her eyes, the fear and the panic almost gone. The look in Everson's eyes, the sound of his footsteps on the steps behind her. They haunted the darkness behind her closed eyes, but she'd forget it about it. She had to. She had to get over all this eventually.

For now, she had him.