“I know.” I scrub at my cheeks, as if it can erase all of this and propel me back in time. To him, to how we were before I found out his people already had their Bloodstone magic back.
He grabs a chair and places it near the bed.
It’s too far away. I need him closer. So much closer.
Boldly, I slide to the end of the mattress until my knees brush against him. His gaze flickers over me, but he doesn’t pull away and take the connection from me.
Instead, he stacks his hands together as he continues to study me in the glittering torchlight. “We have to work together, Sol. Otherwise, our binding tattoos will drive us mad. But...” His jaw tics.
“Say it,” I whisper.
“I cannot trust my heart to you again.” Over and over again, his words repeat, slamming pain into my chest with each syllable.
“Hector,” I whisper, wishing I could say more. Everything he needs to hear right now. Everything I need to hear. Everything that will ease the ache inside him. The ache I caused when I left him.
“We’re too different.” His words break something inside me. Something fragile. Something that loves him. “And I cannot thrive if I’m constantly wondering when you’ll leave me again.”
“I had no choice,” I say, my words still a whisper, as if I have lost the ability to speak any louder. “You know what was happening to my hands.”
“You left me without saying a word. You chose that path.” He stands, robbing me of the connection.
“Don’t leave.” I rush to my feet. “Please, Hector. I beg you. Don’t leave.”
“It is better this way.” He nods at me and turns toward the tent opening.
I close the space between us and grab his arm. “You are the one who chose my binding tattoo. You know what it does to us. I demand more from you.”
“You demand?” He turns and arches a brow.
“Yes.” I spread my hands across the width of his chest and sigh, feeling the heat from him, the power of our bond. “I will not allow you to just push me away.”
A shuddering exhale escapes him as I step closer to him, allowing him to feel my curves against him.
“I am not pushing you away.” He clenches his jaw and steps back. I drop my hands as his rejection pierces my chest. “I am creating distance.”
“That is the same thing.” I ball my fingers into fists, trying to stave off the growing need in my center. “I need our connection. You need it too.”
“You’re mistaken. I have learned to live without it,” he says, his tone a blizzard capable of freezing every inch of me.
“That’s a lie. I feel your sadness.” I tap my chest with my free hand. “It’s always here. Just like mine.”
His gaze lowers to my chest, to the precise area I tapped.
“I know what you want. It’s what I want too.” Boldly, I grab the hem of my surcoat and raise it to my thighs. “Bed me, Hector.”
Warmth glints behind his eyes as he allows them to rove over me, to consume me with just a glance. My body tingles, anticipating his touch.
“Please.” I grip the fabric tighter, longing for him to give in,needinghim to give in.
“No,” he says after a moment. “It won’t solve anything.”
“It would mend our connection.”
He steps back and folds his arms. “I want you to stay inside the camp tomorrow. Don’t leave for any reason.”
Disappointment lances through me as I drop the surcoat. “Why? What’s happening tomorrow?”
“War.”
