Chapter 147 | The Smell of Low Tide

I stroked Naomi’s hair as she lay against my chest, our bodies still warm from round two. The late afternoon sun filtered through her blinds, casting golden stripes across her naked form. She looked fucking incredible—all smooth brown skin and soft curves, her pink and black striped hair spilled across my shoulder like some exotic dessert.

"Don’t you want dinner?" I asked, my stomach making its presence known with a growl. We’d been at this for hours, and I hadn’t eaten since our picnic.

She shook her head into my shoulder, her nose brushing against my collarbone.

"Water?"

Another head shake, this time with a little grumpy sound that made me laugh.

"What do you want then?"

Her arms tightened around my waist, squeezing me like I might disappear if she loosened her grip. The gesture was so unexpectedly possessive that it took me a second to understand what she was asking for.

"You want me to stay the night?" I asked, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

She nodded, still hiding her face against my skin.

"Okay," I said, reaching for my phone on her nightstand. "Let me text Belle to let her know."

Naomi lifted her head at that, her pink eyes wide with surprise. "Really? That easy?"

I shrugged, typing a quick message. "Where else would I rather be?"

Her smile could have powered the fucking academy for a week.

She settled back against me, her leg thrown over mine in a way that was both casual and possessive. I wondered if she even realized she was doing it—marking her territory with small touches, keeping me anchored to her side of the bed.

"Tell me something," she said, her finger tracing lazy patterns on my chest.

"Like what?"

"Something real. Something from before." She looked up at me. "Something from when you were a kid."

I tensed slightly. This was dangerous territory. My memories were a jumbled mess of two different lives—the real me from before, and the lottery kid whose body I was wearing. I needed to be careful here.

"Not much to tell," I hedged. "Pretty normal childhood. Mom worked a lot. Dad wasn’t around much."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Boston," I said, pulling from Jace’s actual background. "Triple-decker apartment in Dorchester. You could hear the neighbors arguing through the walls and smell whatever they were cooking for dinner."

She smiled. "What was your favorite thing to do? As a kid, I mean."

I thought about it, blending my own memories with what I knew of Jace’s. "Reading, mostly. Fantasy stuff. Worlds where people had powers and could do impossible things." I smirked. "Guess that worked out for me."

She laughed, the sound vibrating against my chest. "The universe has a weird sense of humor."

"What about you?" I asked, eager to shift the focus. "What was little Naomi Love like?"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh god, I was such a weird kid. I used to collect shells—had thousands of them organized by type, size, color. My room smelled like low tide for years."

"Hence the necklace?" I touched the shell pendant that lay between her breasts.

"Yeah. My mom made it for me when I left for the academy." Her expression softened. "Said this way I’d always have a piece of the ocean with me."

I ran my hand down her back, feeling the delicate bumps of her spine. "Tell me more."

"About what?"

"Anything. Everything. What you were like as a kid. What your brothers are like. How you learned to fish. I want to know all of it."

She looked at me like I’d just handed her the moon. "You actually want to hear me ramble?"

"I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t."

She studied my face for a moment, then settled in closer. "Well, I grew up right on the water in this tiny little house. More of a shack, really. Three kids in one bedroom. I had to hang a sheet for privacy once I hit thirteen..."

I listened as she talked, her voice rising and falling like the tides she described. She told me about her first fishing trip at age six, how she’d thrown up over the side of the boat but insisted on staying out all day. About how her brothers—Mikal and Devon—were constantly getting into trouble, especially Devon who once tried to build a raft to sail to China because he was obsessed with kung fu movies.

She told me about the storm that nearly sank her father’s boat when she was fourteen, how they’d all worked through the night bailing water and praying. How her mother could make a feast from a single fish and some rice. How her father sang sea shanties when he thought no one was listening.

The whole time she talked, she kept touching me—small, almost unconscious caresses. A finger tracing my jawline, her palm flat against my stomach, her toes wiggling against my calf. Like she was constantly checking that I was still there, still listening.

And I was. For once, I wasn’t calculating devotion percentages or extraction values. I wasn’t thinking about points or abilities or my next strategic move. I was just... present. With her.

"...and then Devon tried to jump from the roof with an umbrella because he saw it in a cartoon, and Mom about had a heart attack. Dad couldn’t even be mad because he was laughing too hard." She giggled, the sound pure and unfiltered. "Devon broke his arm, but he said it was worth it for the three seconds he felt like he was flying."

"Sounds like a good kid," I said, smiling at the image.

"The best. Both of them are." Her expression turned wistful. "I miss them so much sometimes it hurts. Physically hurts."

I pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You’ll see them again soon."

"Yeah, but I’ll be different. This place changes you." She looked up at me. "It’s already changing me."

I ran my thumb across her cheekbone. "For the better, I think."

"You think?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I know," I corrected. "The girl I met that first day in Cross’s class wouldn’t have dragged me back to her room and had her way with me twice."

She smacked my chest, her face flaming red. "That’s not—I didn’t—"

"You absolutely did," I laughed. "Not that I’m complaining."

She buried her face in my neck, groaning. "You’re awful."

"And yet here you are."

She mumbled something against my skin.

"What was that?"

She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. "I said, here is exactly where I want to be."