Page 105 of Once the Skies Fade

My heartbeat quickened, and she hadn’t even touched me yet. I chided myself for being so easily swayed by such a simple action, but when she dipped both hands with the soap into the water, her knuckles skimming along my hip, I had to remind myself how to fucking breathe.

“The ring you wear,” she said. “Does it hold any significance?”

Lifting my hand so she could see it, I explained, “It was my father’s. Passed down through the generations. Supposedly brings good luck, though I don’t ascribe to that type of thinking.”

“It’s kept you alive this long,” she said softly.

I shrugged. “I’ve kept myself alive. Well, with the help of Connor and our soldiers. And you.”

An oddly comfortable silence fell between us, and then she released a light sigh that conjured a ripple of flutters across my bare skin. Her touch was light at first, fingertips trailing up my arm and over my shoulder, and I shifted sideways to allow her easier access to my back. Then the soap slipped across my upper back and over the other shoulder, and I couldn’t contain thetraitorous sigh that escaped me as I closed my eyes. She glided the soap along my skin in slow circles that became long strokes.

“What’s this tattoo?” she asked.

I cleared my throat. “A laurel branch.”

“For victory in the war?”

I shook my head slowly. “For my niece, Lorynne. So I’d remember what I was fighting for.”

“And the letters?” She traced over them with her finger. “G.H. A lover’s initials, perhaps?”

I might have chuckled more at the slight tinge of jealousy in her voice, but the memory of Gabriel dying on that battlefield flashed in my mind, dampening my spirits.

“For Lorynne’s father, Gabriel Hawthorne. He was my sister’s husband.”

“Was,” she echoed in a whisper, and I nodded.

“Killed during the war.”

“Were you there?”

I nodded again, my throat tightening against my will. I hadn’t lied when I told Connor that I’d dealt with this pain, that it had ceased to hurt, that I’d moved on. But, somehow, Calla’s touch—and the reminder that she possessed the same powers that had killed him—seemed to split that wound open again.

Could I tell her how he’d died? How would she react?

“What happened?” she asked, tentatively. When I didn’t answer right away, she added, “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have?—”

“A Shadow Keeper,” I said, cutting off her apology. Her hands stilled on my back, but she didn’t retreat. For a handful of breaths neither of us moved, until I dared to peer over my shoulder to see how she was faring.

Her expression was blank, similar to when she’d collapsed in the forest that first day, but different, more in control. Hershadows were contained this time, though she wore that same lost stare.

I turned around to face her, encouraging her to move her hands to the edge of the tub, the soap slipping from her fingers and sliding down into the water. I rested my hand on hers, brushing it with my thumb as I tried to search her eyes for any hint as to what she was thinking or feeling.

“It’s okay, Killer. It was a long time ago.”

“Don’t call me that right now,” she whispered, looking straight through me.

“Alright, Calla. What can I do?” I asked, not really sure what to expect from her.

“This was a mistake,” she said, standing. She turned, not for the door, but for the tapestry on the back wall where I’d seen her shadows.

Without thinking, I rose and stepped out of the tub, ignoring how the air chilled my skin. All I knew was I couldn’t let her leave. She stopped mid-stride but didn’t turn to face me, instead dropping her chin to her chest, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

I approached slowly, noting how the muscles in her shoulders tensed with each step I took. She didn’t move, but her pulse raced, gradually growing quicker the closer I got. When my chest was nearly touching her back, her breath hitched, and she swallowed hard.

“You came here for a reason, Calla,” I said, sending my words to warm her ear. She trembled, leaning slightly back against me before straightening away again. “Why?”

Being this close to her, her overwhelmingly sweet scent lit an unwanted fire in my core. When my body responded to the blaze, she shocked me by leaning back, pressing her backside into me. Slowly, she rolled her hips, and fucking stars, I couldn’t stop my eyes from closing. Or my hands from finding her waist.

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