“Your hair.” His pupils expanded, eclipsing those sunset irises. Tension tightened the skin around his eyes and mouth.
Flutters dominated my stomach, and I reached up to finger a lock. “I don’t know how it dries so fast sometimes but not others.”
“Outside of the forest and storms, Hakeldama air sucks out moisture.” He stepped toward me. I stepped toward him. We met in the middle. “I’ve never seen your hair down.”
Appearing dazed, he reached out, and traced his fingertipsover the dark tresses, almost petting me. My spine tingled with anticipation, and I wanted…needed him to fist the strands and yank me closer.
What was happening to me? Between us?
He dipped his head to breathe me in, and his eyelids hooded. “You smell like happiness.”
“Thank you,” I rasped. Perhaps I should walk away. Yes, yes. Walk away. But I didn’t. I waited, curious to learn what he’d do next. What he would say.
In the end, he clenched his jaw and walked away.
Trembling and in need of an outlet, I detoured to the dresser, where I collected the pad and pencil. Then I marched to the chair Jasher had vacated and sank onto the cushion. While I should be exhausted, now that I was clean and well-fed, I remained hyperaware of him, twitching with every noise. The rustle of cloth as he disrobed. The splash of water as he stepped into the tub. More splashes as he washed.
I began to draw my usual, the monstra, but I didn’t get past the creation of an ear. Not right. Argh! I flipped to the next page. Attempted another monstra. Gah! Also not right. New page. As I tried yet again, letting my hand guide the pencil of its own accord, I said, “Tell me about your mother.” Maybe a distraction would help. And he’d agreed to answer my questions. “What part of my world did she come from?”
Silence stretched until I thought the handsome executioner intended to ignore me. Finally, he spoke up. “A place called Texas.”
“Ah. The cowboy capital of the world.”
Another pause. Then, “What’s a cowboy?”
“Someone who herds and tends cattle. Rides horses and even bulls.” I shrugged. “It’s more of an attitude, I guess.”
“And what is Kansas best known for?”
He’d remembered the name of my homeland. “Exactly what I experienced. A girl being transported by tornado into a strange world.”
Water splashed, and I imagined Jasher soaping up, naked, all those muscles and tattoos on display. I licked suddenly dry lips, swallowed, and continued etching lines here, there. Shading. The image came together, and heat singed my cheeks. Sweet goodness. I’d drawn my guide’s arresting face.
“How old were you when your mother died?” I asked. What I didn’t do? Stop drawing.
“Ten. I don’t remember much about her, but I do recall the warning she gave me and my brothers every night,” he admitted softly. “If we steal someone’s joy, we should consider it a loan, for the act will always return to us with interest.”
A truth I agreed with a hundred percent. “She sounds wise and kind.” I liked her already. “Is Anders younger or older than you?”
“Neither. We are…triplets.” Jasher’s husky voice poured over me, rousing more goose bumps.
Wait. “Triplets? So there are two carbon copies of you?” I gasped out.
“Yes.” A strange inflection in his tone roused my curiosity, but I couldn’t get past the admission. “Reese is the third.”
“What of your father?”
“He isn’t up for discussion.”
Jasher sounded so close. I glanced up and found him towering next to my chair, fully dressed. Cheeks heating anew, I scrambled to close the notepad. Had he seen my drawing? He must have. But he made no comment as he continued to the recliner across from mine and eased down, facing me.
“Now,” he said, his tone ominous, “we chat.”
CHAPTER 11
TIES THAT BIND
My heart thudded against my ribs.Am I ready for this?“I thought wewerechatting.”