“I figured the rope rubbed them raw.”
He leans closer, his face softening as he reaches out as if to touch my cheek. I recoil, and his hand freezes in midair.
“Sol,” he says, his voice ragged, as if it pains him to speak. “I don’t want it to be this way.”
I swallow as I remember him executing Malachi.
Embers of emotion spark in Hector’s eyes as he rakes his fingers through his hair and digs them into the nape of his neck. “It kills me to see you suffer like this.”
I drop my gaze from his. This isn’t what I want either. This tension. The constant nightmares. The inability to really speak to each other.
“Will you tie me up tonight?” I ask, breaking the silence that developed between us.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You could leave Cenric by the door. Nobody can get through him.” A chill skitters down my spine at the thought of the long-haired barbarian.
He looked at Everly.
I exhale and shake away the thought. She’s too good for him.
A smirk pulls at the corner of Hector’s mouth. “He would be flattered you think so.”
“You could stay here.” I don’t know where those words come from. They tumble out before I think them through.
Hector stares at me for so long, I look away and clasp my hands together.
“I only meant…” I lick my lower lip and continue, “…you could guard me.”
He shoves his fingers through his hair again and shakes his head. “That wouldn’t be a wise idea.”
“Why not?” I eye the post shoved into the ground near my mattress. “I don’t enjoy being tied up every night. You could stay here. I won’t try to run. You have my word.”For now.
Resignation fills his tone as he speaks. “I no longer trust your word.”
“I know.” I reach for my necklace, dangling the kyanite stone between my fingers. “I’m sorry for everything. For throwing that knife at you. For not saying anything sooner. For killing my guards.”
“Sol…” A muscle ticks in Hector’s jaw as he looks down at the gold ring on his pinky, the one belonging to his mother.
“I should have spoken sooner.” Sadness reaches in like an iron fist and squeezes around my heart. “I’m sorry, Hector.”
“It’s better that we don’t talk about it,” he says, his voice frayed.
“Why?” I dig my right thumbnail into my left palm, hating that this happened between us. Hating that I made the choices I did. Hating that he made the choices he did. Hating that we kept such large secrets from each other.
When he doesn’t reply, I speak again, my words soft. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been keeping secrets from each other?”
He stands abruptly and shoves his hands into his weapon belt.
“Hector.” I rise to my feet and stare up at him—desperate to connect in a way we haven’t connected in days. “Talk to me.”
“It would do neither one of us any good to revisit any of that,” he says, his tone an intangible shroud, cloaking every syllable.
I dare to erase the space between us and place my hands against his rigid arms. “Maybe if we talked, we could work out some of our differences.” I desperately want that. Maybe if he saw me as less of a threat, I wouldn’t be tied up anymore. Maybe we could actually be amicable toward one another again.
His eyes, silver as a winter morning sky, gaze into mine. The world dims, and Hector takes center stage. His handsome face, his muscular body, even the gleam behind his stare that seems to say he knows the effect he has on me.
He could kiss me.
