“How did you know where to find me?” I back up a step, my body still dripping with water.
“My men had orders to follow you.” His eyes travel over me, lingering on all those places I usually keep covered.
“So, you followed me here, broke in, and now, you’re staring at me?”
A smirk pulls at his mouth. “I noticed you don’t seem keen to cover yourself.”
“Why should I?” I shrug and lower my rag to the basin. “You’re my husband.”
“And you’re not old.” Threads of admiration linger from Hector’s words. “Earlier, I was questioning the Seer’s wisdom.”
“So, now that you know I’m not old, are you willing to aid me?”
He glances around the run-down cottage. “Why are you here?”
“I told you. I traveled here with Everly, but now I cannot find her.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.”
My heart sinks below the dilapidated floorboards as his words pierce my chest.
It’s not true.
It cannot be true.
“But I require her aid. Otherwise…”I’m stuck here forever.
“Otherwise?” Hector hikes a dark eyebrow.
“I will never be able to return to where I belong,” I say, my tone hoarse, painful.
Lines deepen across his brow as he studies me in the broken torchlight, his stare too keen, too dissecting. “I want to see your binding tattoo again.”
“Well…” I shrug, “…it’s not like you cannot seeallof me right now.”
He closes the space between us and lifts my wrist toward the torch. “You know what this is, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course. It’s a magical binding tattoo.”
He releases me and steps back. “It makes you reliant on the person you are bound with. You need him. He needs you. You cannot live apart for too long.”
My stomach tightens as I think of how Hector must have reacted when he discovered me missing.
Is he angry? Vengeful? Unable to forgive me?
“But…” I raise a shaky hand to my chest. “Why would you choose such a tattoo?”
The heel of his boots echos against the floor as he moves to the window. “I don’t know.” Beneath his breath, he adds, “It is foolhardy.”
“Maybe,” I say as I think out loud, “you chose this one because you knew it would bring me back to you.” I run my fingers against the tattoo. “I’m your wave. I will return to the shore over and over again.”
His brow lifts. “I’m a shore?”
“Yes, with sand and broken seashells that stab my feet.”
Black strands fall against his forehead as he shakes his head at me.
Lured by the need to be close to him, I close the space between us. “I want you to kiss me.”
