Page 3 of Whispers of the Water

His eyes turned down at the corners once more, and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Me too.”

Curiosity piqued, I said, “Okay. You first.”

His gaze searched mine, and the longer it did, the deeper his frown grew. “I’ve thought about what you said yesterday. How I should let myself feel the emotions I’ve tried so hard to cut out. How I should let myself openly care about you and others again.”

I swallowed hard. We were both thinking the same thing, but judging by the pain written in his eyes, I had a sinking feeling that we weren’t in agreement with where this should go.

“After going over it a dozen times in my head, I realized—” He closed his mouth and seemed to fight for the words before he finished, “I can’t.”

The floor fell out from beneath my feet, and my throat tightened under the grip of disappointment. Working to swallow past the ache in my chest, I started, “Rune, you—”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I know what kind of monster I become when I lose those I care about. I know what I turn into and what I do after the fact. I don’t want to become that again. I don’t want to feel that much hate again.”

I reached for him, cupping his face in my free hand. He inhaled sharply and seemed to, ever so slightly, lean into my touch, as though he were afraid doing so may sear his skin. I held his gaze with confidence, imploring him to listen. “You won’t have to feel that way again. You are not going to lose me.”

He gripped my wrist and gently pulled my hand away. His large hand slipped into my own until we held each other, fingers intertwined. He had to understand. I knew he was afraid of losing me in any sense of the word. He had experienced great loss after his father died, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I was here to stay, and my eyes pleaded with his to make him understand that.

“I will lose you, though,” he said. “I’m bound to make you hate me again. If it’s not that, it will be the difference in our lifespans. Something is bound to take you from me, and I can’t go through that. I can’t feed into these feelings any more than I already have.”

“But—” I stopped.

The words begged to leave my tongue, and I nearly let them. I wanted to tell him that our lifespans would be relatively the same now. As Fae, I’d live centuries, just like him. We’d be together without worry of my impending death. But the reassurance died with my next swallow. I couldn’t tell him who I was, which meant as long as he thought I was human, destined to die in what would feel like a blink of an eye to him, there would be no convincing him.

My frustration with the situation warred with my hope for a future with him. Rune and I had finally moved one step forward after talking in the field, but now it was like we were moving ten steps back. A void started to slowly stretch inside me, threatening to consume me, and the bottle of water I held began to vibrate. The water inside was starting to jostle within the plastic prison.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I waited until my water bottle stilled before meeting his eyes. “So what now? What does that mean for us?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I’m still trying to figure that out.”

There was no denying the hurt that washed over me like a tidal wave. It didn’t matter what I said. It didn’t matter what reassurances I gave him—or, rather, didn’t give him since I couldn’t provide him reassurances given my current secret identity. He was too afraid. The possibility of feeling agony was too consuming for him to even give this a chance.

Rune had once said to me that fear could bring even the strongest of men crashing to their knees. How right he’d been. He was one of the most powerful men I’d ever met, and here he was, freezing up under the paralyzing weight of dismay.

And there was a part of me, that pessimistic side of my brain, that briefly wondered if he was right. Maybe us being together was wrong, because he was Land Fae, and I was Water Fae. We were enemies after all. Perhaps letting things end here peacefully before either of us got hurt was for the best. Yet as soon as the idea crossed my mind, I immediately squashed it. Rune and I were not a mistake. I refused to believe otherwise.

Crooking his finger under my chin, he tilted my head up to meet his eyes. My heart constricted at his touch, but I had to ignore that feeling. He was giving me no choice but to fight against my pull toward him.

And just when I had thought I’d finally be able to give in to my desires.

“You helped me more than you will ever know, Bria. I was in an awful place when you came into my life. You experienced firsthand a small taste of how ugly I can be when I fall into that spiral. You pulled me out of that dark place, and I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to treat people, to treat you, like that ever again.”

“I understand that, but pushing me away isn’t going to help you. It’s going to hurt you and me.”

He frowned when I mentioned myself. He knew the hurt he was causing. He knew how much he meant to me, yet he was still turning me away. He was denying himself the chance of exploring this, and he was preventing me from loving him openly and honestly.

“Maybe it will. Even so, I’m just not ready to be anything more than friends.”

The news broke me, but I refused to let on exactly how much his words stung. Nodding, I excused myself and went into the bathroom. As soon as the door locked behind me, I gripped the sink and let the sliver in my heart crack wide open. This wasn’t how I’d envisioned this trip starting out. I thought we’d show up, and instead of me merely pretending to be Rune’s girlfriend, it would become real.

Emotion clogged my throat, and as my internal war heightened, water suddenly burst from the sink faucet. Gasping, I quickly went to turn off the handles, but I realized the sink wasn’t turned on, which left only one culprit.

Me.

Frantic and unsure of how to control the water, I held my hands toward the sink and ordered, “Stop!”

The water continued its relentless pursuit, and I let out a frustrated groan. Trying to put a bit more thought into the command, I flung out my hands at the sink, but the water shot from the spout toward me, engulfing my hands in gloves made of liquid.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hissed, trying to shake the water off.

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