Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“I don’t believe you.” His eyes pierce mine and I’m slammed with that underground kiss.
My cheeks burn, and I curl my fists. “That was nothing,” I say and laugh. “A momentary whim. A good story. That’s all. There was an opportunity. I took advantage. Meant nothing else. Let me go.”
The wall of wind behind me eases to stillness.
I take the most confident steps I can to collect my boots. Quin is watching me quietly. I’m afraid he’ll notice my trembling fingers, my wobbly knees. Afraid he’ll think that moment meant more . . . It didn’t. It really didn’t. I’m shaky because I have to leave him when I vowed to help, when I promised to always be by his side. It feels wrong, like failure, like some kind of betrayal . . .
I shove my boots on without looking back, and this time I make it to the door before I’m stopped. Not with wind this time, but by the splash of him coming out of the water, the snick of the cane he summoned, the tone of his voice.
He doesn’t use kingly authority with me, yet his voice is firm—unyielding, demanding. The voice of an upset friend. “Cael.”
I stiffen and stand there, breathing in and out, unable to continue forward, nervous to turn back.
“Talk,” he says. “Don’t take me for a fool that believes you don’t care.”
His words ring in my head and my chest rises and falls. It takes me a long time to find words, and when I do they come out strange to my ears. Gravelly, weak. “I’m trying to make it easier . . . to leave.”
“Throwing out hurtful words will haunt you later.”
There’s already a sick guilt churning my gut. I palm my face and rub it. Slowly, I turn—and keep going full circle with a yelp. “Get back into the water!”
“I know why you got rid of my clothes. I want to make it clear: I don’t care. I’ll chase you until I get a proper goodbye.”
His promise sends a long shiver through me and I flap a hand for him to submerge himself. When I hear the telltale sounds of him slipping into water, I steady my breathing, remove my boots, and inch to the edge of the bath.
I’m flustered and hot and I can only lift my gaze as far as his flutette. Water stirs; each ripple from his chest to my feet laps against me, weighted with expectation. I dip my fingers into the water to halt it and sigh when the water sifts between them.
“You’re not objecting to my actual departure,” I murmur.
“No.”
For all I’m trying to leave, I don’t like how simple this no is.
Quin speaks again, “That’s not an easy ‘no’.”
I raise my eyes. His lips are pressed in a sad, wistful smile.
He leans back against the edge of the bath, lips pressed with exasperation and something softer—or perhaps, raw. “I never wanted to like you,” he murmurs in resignation. “But you’re like a weed, Cael. No matter how many times I try to pull you out, you keep coming back. Persistent and unstoppable.”
“A weed!” I kick a spray of water over his cheek.
His bittersweet smile momentarily sweetens. “You wore away my resolution. I knew you cared about my brother, fancied yourself in love with him, but whether you were aware of it or not, there’s always been a pull between us.”
“That’s not—it’s not—”
He slams a wet finger to my mouth. “Don’t.”
“But—” my voice is smothered by more of his fingers and I give up with a glare over them.
“One day you’ll acknowledge it.” He drops his fingers from my lips and uses them to rub between his eyebrows. “For now, I’ll begin.” He hauls in a breath and lets it out again past the angry grit of his jaw. “When you were . . . when you lost your magic . . .” His hands ball at his sides and my throat feels like it’s doing something similar. I look away.
“I couldn’t contain my feelings,” he murmurs. “It’s more painful to see the one you like hurt than to be hurt yourself. It made me volatile. For the first time, I got angry with my brother, and I could feel him starting to resent me, too. Taking you from his home . . .” his voice breaks. “It began fracturing us.”
I swallow hard, whisper, “I know, and I won’t let that happen.”
Water ripples around me again and each break over my ankles has a way of making my eyes sting. “This is why I must leave,” I say. “Why I tried to sneak away, lashed out with words that would hurt you. That kiss . . .”
Quin watches, waits. His eyebrow quirks but his lips are set in a firm line. Ready for whatever I’ll say.