ANCHORED

CHAPTER 12

Captain Cobham sat in his dimly lit cabin, the ship's gentle rocking a stark contrast to the storm brewing within him. He had just finished his shift on the bridge and was supposed to be resting, but sleep eluded him. His thoughts kept circling back to Jariel. He knew he needed to sort out this distraction; it was affecting his ability to command with a clear head.

"Jariel," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "I need to go see her, touch her, talk to her. This can't go on." His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of frustration and longing. He stood up abruptly, pacing the small cabin. The walls seemed to close in on him as he wrestled with his emotions.

After a few minutes, he made up his mind. He would go down to the hospital and see her. He needed to clear the air, to understand what was happening between them. With a determined stride, he left his cabin and made his way through the narrow corridors of the ship.

As he approached the hospital, he heard voices. One of them was unmistakably Kris, the engine cadet. The other was Jariel, her laughter light and melodic, a sound that usually brought him joy but now filled him with a pang of jealousy. He paused just outside the door, listening. Kris was telling a story, and Jariel's giggles punctuated his words.

Captain Cobham's heart sank. He felt a sharp stab of jealousy and sadness. He couldn't bring himself to walk in and interrupt them. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed back to his cabin, his mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Back in his cabin, he paced relentlessly. Anger and jealousy gnawed at him, twisting his thoughts into a tangled mess. "Why is she laughing with him? Does she care for him more than me?" he wondered aloud, his voice thick with emotion. The more he thought about it, the more agitated he became.

Meanwhile, in the hospital, Jariel was also lost in thought. Kris was talking to her, but her mind kept drifting back to Captain Cobham. She had been waiting for him to come see her, hoping for a moment alone with him. Kris's voice faded into the background as she imagined what she would say to the Captain, how she would explain her feelings.

Kris noticed her distraction. "Jariel, are you alright? You seem a bit out of it," he said, concern evident in his voice.

Jariel forced a smile. "I'm fine, Kris. Just a bit weak from the cold, I guess."

Kris nodded, though he wasn't entirely convinced. "Alright, I'll let you rest. I'll check on you later," he said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaving the room.

As Kris walked away, Jariel's thoughts immediately returned to Captain Cobham. She wondered where he was, why he hadn't come to see her. Her heart ached with longing, and she wished she could tell him how she felt.

In his cabin, Captain Cobham finally sat down, burying his face in his hands. He knew he had to confront his feelings and talk to Jariel, but the thought of her laughing with Kris made his heart heavy. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. "Tomorrow," he whispered to himself. "Tomorrow, I'll talk to her."

-JARIEL-

The thought of Captain Cobham lingered in Jariel’s mind like a storm cloud heavy with promise, stirring a warmth that spread through her body. His name alone—Cobham—carried a weight that made her breath catch, conjuring images of his broad shoulders, the quiet intensity in his eyes, and the low timbre of his voice that seemed to vibrate in her bones. She sat alone in the dimly lit hospital, the hum of the ship’s engines a distant pulse, and let her thoughts drift to him. The air felt thick with her longing, and a tingling heat bloomed low in her belly, a sensation so potent it bordered on ache.

Jariel shifted on the narrow cot, her thighs pressing together instinctively as the warmth intensified, pooling between her legs. The swell in her belly, a soft curve that spoke of life and desire, seemed to amplify every sensation, making her hyper-aware of her body’s responses. The thought of Cobham’s hands, calloused yet gentle, tracing the lines of her skin, sent a shiver through her. Her breath hitched, and she felt a slickness gathering, her body responding with a need she could no longer ignore. The tension was exquisite but unbearable, urging her to move, to act. She pressed her thighs together tighter, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure that made her gasp softly, her lips parting as she whispered his name into the quiet: “Cobham.”