Perilous Sea || Homer Series

Chapter Four

I was busy drinking when I felt someone's gaze burning into me. I looked around and met a familiar pair of eyes.

He walked toward me with that arrogant smile, his steps slow and confident. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. I scrunched my nose at him.

“Cean,” he murmured huskily.

A smirk tugged at my lips. “Ebony.”

“I miss you,” he said, wrapping me in a hug.

I pushed him back slightly, scanning his face. He’d gotten taller, his body more defined, his sharp jawline even more prominent. His deep, husky voice had taken on an even richer timbre.

“I don’t miss you, you ass,” I shot back, making him chuckle.

He put a little distance between us, just enough to give me a once-over. Then, that mischievous smirk appeared. “You haven’t changed, Cean. Still my old sweetheart.” His eyes roamed my face, holding a teasing glint.

I punched his chest lightly. “I got taller.” I lifted my chin smugly.

He nodded. “Which makes us look even better together.”

I rolled my eyes. “If someone sees us like this, they’ll think we got back together.” Especially with the way he was holding me so close.

“I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “I don’t have anyone who’d get mad.”

A teasing smile played on my lips. “I thought you were dating someone, hmm?”

He scowled. “Just a rumor. I’m not interested in anyone right now.”

Liar. I didn’t believe him for a second. I knew better.

His hands remained on my waist while mine rested around his neck. We weren’t even on the dance floor, yet he began swaying us slowly. The music playing was something sultry, but we danced as if it were a soft ballad at a school prom.

“You’re so weird,” I whispered.

“We look so weird,” he corrected, grinning.

We both laughed. Nothing had changed. The comfort, the connection—everything was still there. He was my ex-boyfriend. The one and only Ebony Eakovos.

“How’s my little witch, hmm? It’s been two years,” he asked, his brooding eyes locked on mine.

“I’m fine. What about you? Still the cold, broody eldest of the Eakovos clan?” I teased.

He smirked. “Yes, and still the most handsome.”

I groaned. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Ebony was playful, but only with those he was close to. To the rest of the world, he was distant, aloof.

He chuckled. “You’re the only one who’s ever dared to call me ugly.”

“I feel special,” I said dramatically, pressing a hand to my chest.

He gave me a mock-sulky look. “Your sarcasm makes me want to throw you out, Oceanna Anica Homer.”

I burst out laughing. “Whatever.”

With a sigh, I leaned my head against his chest, closing my eyes, savoring the moment. It was peaceful—being with someone you could be completely yourself with.

“You still like the warmth, huh?” he murmured.

“Shut up. Let me rest,” I mumbled.

And for a while, we simply stayed like that.

His right hand gently caressed my hair. "Do you have a boyfriend, Cean?" he asked suddenly, completely out of the blue.

I blinked up at him. "I don’t have time for that. Why?"

"You sure?" His eyes narrowed slightly, as if doubting my answer.

I tilted my head up to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow, still skeptical.

"Don’t give me that look, Bon," I scoffed. "You were my first and last relationship. You know that."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "Someone’s watching us. Have you noticed?"

I frowned. "It’s normal for people to stare. We probably look stupid like this."

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Nope. I saw him staring at you even before I got here."

I chuckled. "Well, I’m beautiful. It’s normal." I bit my lip to keep from laughing when he frowned at me.

"Just let them look, Bon. We’re in a public place. People staring is nothing new," I added with a shrug.

He sighed but let it go. "Do you want to dance?"

I glanced toward the dance floor. Lexine was talking to some guy, still looking sober. I figured I’d let her be for a while.

"Nope. Let’s just stay here," I replied.

He nodded before wrapping both arms around my waist, pulling me into a warm embrace. Then, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

"I’ll head back to my friends," he murmured, "but I’ll be watching. Just to make sure you’re safe."

And just like that, he was gone, but his presence still lingered.

I roamed the entire place, my lips parting slightly when I caught sight of Wyatt’s eyes in the dim lighting. He was on the second floor, leaning casually against the railings with one hand while holding a glass in the other.

He took a slow sip, his gaze never wavering from me. I quickly looked away.

He’s here. Is he with his friends?

I threw back another drink, trying to distract myself by watching the crowd. But curiosity got the best of me—I stole a glance back upstairs.

Wyatt was talking to someone now.

Arsen Zaccheus.

Arsen smiled at me, and I gave him a small nod in acknowledgment. Then, my eyes flickered back to Wyatt.

He subtly signaled for me to come upstairs.

What does he need this time?

Am I really going to follow him? After all this time avoiding him?

My lips pressed into a thin line, my mind at war with itself. There was no reason to go up there.

But maybe it was the alcohol.

With a deep sigh, I made my way toward the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. When I reached the top, I saw Wyatt standing there, his back resting against the railings, his gaze locked on me.

Arsen murmured something to him before walking away with a smirk, leaving us alone.

This man really doesn’t realize how effortlessly attractive he is. Standing there in his suit, drink in hand, exuding an air of quiet power and wealth—it was almost unfair.

I stopped in front of him. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

His eyes softened slightly, but he looked exhausted. If he was this tired, why come here instead of resting?

“To disentangle and relax,” he said simply.

I nodded. “Do you have something to say?”

“You have class tomorrow. You shouldn’t get drunk.”

I stared at him, waiting for something more. That was it? That was what he called me up here for?

“You made me come all the way up here just to say that?” I frowned.

His forehead creased slightly, his lips pressing into a pout. “Your father told me to fetch you tomorrow.”

My father? What? Why so suddenly?

“And you’re actually going to do it?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he took another sip from his glass, his gaze drilling into me. The intensity in his eyes made me uneasy—why was he looking at me like that?

Then it hit me.

He was showing emotion.

I bit my lip, suddenly taken aback. The ever-stoic, unreadable Wyatt was letting something slip through the cracks.

And damn it, why did he have to look so ridiculously attractive while doing it? The cool arrogance, the way his suit hugged his frame, the way his eyes held something unspoken—it stirred something deep inside me.

I forced myself to focus. “You don’t have to drive me tomorrow. I’ll just tell my dad that you’re busy and that we talked about it.”

“And then what?” he asked, his voice cold.

“He’ll understand.”

“They’ll assume we’ve been talking,” he muttered.

The way he said it—like the very thought of it irritated him—rubbed me the wrong way.

Screw him. As if I enjoyed this either.

I sighed, scratching my nose. “Then what do you suggest?”

Again, silence.

I swear, I needed an endless supply of patience when it came to this man.

Our attention shifted when a girl walked in, a sultry smile playing on her lips as she approached Wyatt.

“Wyatt, let’s go to our table,” she purred, her voice sickly sweet. Without hesitation, she slid her hand over his arm, fingers lingering.

“I’ll go there later,” he replied coldly, peeling her hand off.

The girl pouted, unfazed. Instead of backing off, she placed her hand back on him—this time, caressing his chest.

“Come on, you rarely go out. Spend your time with us.” She leaned in closer, completely ignoring my presence.

I caught the flicker of irritation in Wyatt’s eyes.

“Move away, Miss,” he said flatly.

A slow smirk tugged at my lips. So, Wyatt wasn’t the usual playboy, huh? For some reason, that fact left me oddly satisfied.

Still, the girl was persistent. “Let’s enjoy the night, Wyatt,” she whispered, making a bold move to kiss him.

Wyatt turned his head away immediately, his hands darting to her waist—not to pull her in, but to keep her still.

I clenched my jaw, frustration bubbling inside me. I knew he was only restraining her, but did he really have to hold her by the waist? He could’ve easily grabbed her arm instead.

“Miss, stop. Just go have fun with someone else,” Wyatt said, his voice carrying a restrained edge, though he still managed to sound composed.

Then, his eyes flicked toward me.

I arched a brow at him.

Realizing this, he quickly let go of the girl’s waist, his gaze never leaving mine.

The girl, on the other hand, looked desperate. “Wyatt—”

“Move away,” I cut in, my tone firm as I glared at her.

She finally turned to look at me, eyes widening as recognition dawned on her.

“Oceanna!” she gasped.

I simply gave her my best unimpressed look. I didn’t even know her, yet I already disliked her.

“I said, step back,” I repeated, my jaw tightening.

“H-huh?”

What the hell? Was she really this dense?

Annoyance twisted my expression as I closed the distance, yanking her hand off Wyatt’s chest. The sudden action made her stumble back slightly.

I spared her one last glance before turning to Wyatt.

His lips parted slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes.

I shot him a glare before facing the girl again. “Leave.”

She stared at me, anger flashing across her face. “But.. I was here first!” she screeched.

I didn’t bother responding, only holding her gaze with an icy stare.

She turned to Wyatt, silently pleading for support. “Wyatt—”

Her words cut off abruptly.

Her jaw dropped as Wyatt’s hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him until my back pressed firmly against his chest. The space between us vanished in an instant.

“Leave, Miss,” he said, his voice steady—but his gaze was locked onto mine, unreadable yet intense.

His grip on my waist tightened slightly, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

I swallowed hard.

Damn it.

“W-what?” the girl stammered, her voice sluggish and unfocused.

She’s drunk. Because if she weren’t, she wouldn’t be making such a spectacle of herself.

I was about to say something when Wyatt suddenly grabbed my hand and placed his glass in it.

What the hell is he doing?

“Wyatt,” the girl called again, her tone dripping with something meant to be sultry but only sounded desperate.

I clenched my jaw. She needs to stop saying his name like that—it’s beyond irritating.

“Stop calling his name—” I started, but my words faltered when I felt Wyatt’s fingers trailing along my neck.

A sharp breath hitched in my throat.

I had my hair tied up, leaving my neck exposed, and now he was tracing it like he had every right to.

I grabbed the hand still resting on my waist, trying to push him off, but he looked at me with those unfocused, heavy-lidded eyes.

“How much did you drink?” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

Instead of answering, he hummed lowly, his gaze hazy yet unwavering.

“Wyatt,” I sighed, but the girl’s voice cut through my thoughts again.

She still wasn’t giving up.

“Are you dense?” I snapped at her, my patience wearing dangerously thin.

Her lips curled into a sneer. “You seduced him!”

I scoffed. Does alcohol make people hallucinate this hard?

“Oh, really—” My words died in my throat as I felt the warmth of Wyatt’s lips against my neck.

I gasped, my entire body stiffening.

“Wyatt,” I whispered sharply, immediately trying to step away, but he didn’t let me. His grip on my waist tightened, pulling me right back against him.

Damn it.

I swallowed hard, my breath hitching as his face burrowed into the crook of my neck. His lips brushed against my skin, trailing soft, languid kisses along my shoulder.

A shiver ran down my spine.

I bit my lip, why the hell was my body reacting to this?

“Wyatt, stop,” I murmured, trying to steady my voice.

He groaned softly against my skin but finally pulled back, looking at me through those sleepy, half-lidded eyes. His lips were slightly pursed, a rare pout settling on his face.

He’s drunk. A hundred percent, undeniably, completely wasted.

A quiet chuckle escaped me. Wyatt would never do this if he were sober.

“Just behave, okay?” I whispered, watching as he obediently nodded.

So, this is how he acts when he’s drunk, huh?

I turned back to the girl, who was still standing there, staring at us as if reality hadn’t quite sunk in yet.

“Just go,” I said flatly. “I don’t have time to argue with you.”

But she didn’t move.

Hopeless.

“You don’t even want him,” she muttered under her breath before meeting my gaze. “I could satisfy his needs.”

The sheer desperation in her voice made me pause.

I glanced at Wyatt.

He was staring at her now, but there was no amusement in his expression—just pure irritation.

“Can you leave us alone?” he asked, his voice sharp, impatient.

The girl shook her head.

His jaw tensed, his fingers twitching slightly against my waist.

“Just f*****g leave,” he said, his voice laced with controlled anger.

Her gaze dropped, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

I exhaled, pressing my hand over Wyatt’s to calm him.

I didn’t want him drinking again.

It looked like his tolerance was dangerously low—and I was the one left dealing with it.

I stared at Wyatt’s face.

His eyes were hooded with exhaustion, his lips slightly parted, flushed a deep red.

My gaze lingered.

She doesn’t want to leave, huh?

I sighed and tried to remove Wyatt’s hand from my waist, wanting to turn and face him properly, but his grip remained firm.

His darkened eyes bore into mine. “Where are you going?”

I rolled my eyes. Possessive much?

Moving closer, I shifted my body, and his grip loosened when he realized what I was doing.

My hands slid up to his neck as I finally turned to face him, his arms instinctively tightening around my waist.

His stare intensified, watching my every move, waiting.

I tiptoed, my lips brushing his softly, teasingly.

A sharp breath left his lips before he pulled me against him, closing the remaining space between us.

His mouth met mine in a heated kiss, his lips rough yet inviting. A gasp escaped me as he bit down on my lower lip, prying my mouth open and slipping his tongue inside, exploring, devouring.

His teeth grazed my lip again, and a soft moan slipped from me before I could stop it.

“Wyatt…” I breathed against his lips.

But just as I was sinking into the moment, he pulled away, leaving my lips tingling, my chest rising and falling in quick breaths.

His pupils dilated, eyes heavy with something dark and consuming as he studied my face.

And then, with a deep groan, he crashed his lips onto mine again.

The kiss was deeper, hungrier.

My fingers tangled into his hair as he sucked on my tongue, sending waves of electricity down my spine.

I shivered when his hand traced down my back, his touch igniting every nerve in my body. My legs felt weak beneath me, but he held me up effortlessly, pressing me flush against his broad chest.

His lips trailed from my jaw to my neck, each kiss leaving a burning imprint on my skin.

A sharp inhale hitched in my throat when he sucked lightly, his tongue teasing the sensitive spot beneath my ear.

I bit my lip, struggling to keep quiet. Damn.

Then—his teeth grazed my skin.

A jolt of panic broke through the haze. “Don’t leave a mark, Wyatt,” I whispered, breathless.

But he didn’t listen.

His mouth latched onto my neck again, sucking harder, and my resolve wavered as heat surged through my veins.

When he finally returned to my lips, I barely had the strength to hold myself up, my body melting against his.

I gasped for air when he pulled away, my chest heaving.

Wyatt’s gaze remained locked on me, his own breathing uneven, lips swollen and impossibly red.

I shut my eyes for a second, resting my forehead against his chest. I just need a moment to gather myself.

And then—

Wait… the girl!

My eyes flew open as I straightened up, glancing around in a rush.

She was gone.

A victorious smirk played on my lips. So it was effective, huh?

"Cean," Wyatt murmured.

I looked up at him, already having taken a step back. His grip had loosened, and the weight of the moment settled between us.

To ease the awkwardness, I smiled. "Don’t worry, I only did that to make her leave," I said preemptively.

His eyes flickered, something unreadable flashing through them before he suddenly reached for my arm. In one swift movement, he switched our positions—I found myself pressed against the railings, trapped beneath his frame as he towered in front of me.

My breath hitched.

His lips parted slightly, gaze locked onto mine before trailing down—lingering.

I swallowed hard as I caught the unmistakable heat in his stare. Desire.

Wyatt exhaled, his voice deep and low. "Can I kiss you more?"

My lips parted.

Is he seriously asking me that?

After everything that just happened—after he already devoured my lips, owned my breath—what difference does it make now?

"I want your consent," he murmured, pulling back just enough to give me space.

I blinked at him, stunned.

Consent.

"You already kissed—"

"That was because you kissed me first." His voice was thick with restraint. "Now, I want to kiss you. I need your permission."

He licked his lips, waiting.

My heartbeat hammered in my ears. He’s full of surprises.

I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and nodded.

That was all he needed.

His lips brushed mine softly, teasing, before deepening the kiss. His mouth moved against mine in slow, deliberate strokes, igniting something in me I couldn’t control.

"Wyatt," I moaned against his lips.

His hands trailed down my back, grazing the sensitive curve of my waist before sliding up—his fingertips ghosting along the sides of my breasts.

A shiver ran through me. My head arched back, pleasure thrumming through my veins.

His darkened gaze met mine for a heartbeat—then he claimed my lips again, rougher this time, biting and sucking until I was left gasping.

He grabbed my hands and guided them to his neck, wordlessly telling me to hold on.

I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as he groaned into my mouth.

"You're so tiny in my arms," he whispered, voice husky with amusement.

Oh.

A quiet gasp escaped me as he pulled at my hair, slipping off the elastic band holding it up. My strands cascaded over my shoulders, and he smirked at the sight—taking full advantage by tilting my head and slipping his tongue deeper into my mouth.

I laughed softly at his aggressiveness, the intensity of it making my head spin.

His hands explored, traced, claimed—but never crossed the line.

He was careful.

A gentleman, despite everything.

I didn’t remember how it ended—how we ended up here, in the girls’ bathroom.

The next thing I knew, Wyatt stood behind me, carefully tying my hair back up.

I watched him through the mirror, my lips curving slightly. "I can do that myself, you know."

He didn’t respond. Just kept fixing my hair, focused, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

I let him.

Sighing, I wiped the smudged remnants of my lipstick, the deep red smeared messily across my lips. He had ruined it completely.

I reached for my makeup bag, reapplying it with steady hands, all while sneaking a glance at Wyatt.

Adorable.