Page 90 of Captured in Love
When Klara extends her hand to poke me in the shoulder, I make my move.
“Arrrgh!” I growl, springing up with hands hooked into claws.
The girls shriek in delighted terror and fall over themselves trying to scoot back. Then they realize I’m not trying to hex, capture, or eat them, and they dissolve into peals of laughter, pointing at my face.
Isak and Tinna appear in the kitchen, and Isak’s mouth quirks up at the sight of me.
I reach up to touch my hair.Crap. I probablydolook like a wicked witch from a fairy story.
Tinna doesn’t smile, but neither does she rush forward to defend her babies, so I guess that counts as progress. She and the girls leave shortly after, leaving me sitting on the couch in Isak’s too-big clothes.
The man in question saunters closer and sits in one of the two armchairs. I rake my fingers through my hair, then give it up as a lost cause. Going to bed with damp hair has never really worked for me.
“What time is it?” I ask, peering through the large bay windows.
I hadn’t appreciated the view yesterday because the land surrounding Isak’s house had been shrouded in gray mist and rain, but I now realize we’re situated on top of a small cliff, with the sea glimmering below. It’s a beautiful summer day, the sky bright blue as if it was freshly washed during the night.
“Nearly nine. I let you sleep in. It seemed like you needed it.” Isak slides his gaze from the top of my head to my feet and back, concern shining in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”
I mentally catalogue all the little aches and pains in my body, courtesy of the grueling second task.
“I’m okay,” I tell him. “The sleep definitely helped.”
As I sit in silence for a moment longer, a smaller, almost unnoticeable sensation makes itself known. It’s an emptiness in my chest, an absence wheresomethinghad been that isn’t there anymore. I rub my sternum, trying to figure out what it is.
I glance up at Isak to find him watching me intently. He raises his eyebrows at me.
“I think they’re gone,” I force out, my voice hoarse. “Levi and Raphaël. They left.”
There’s no way I should be feeling their presence—or absence—but the connection we’d forged, the one I felt especially during sex, isn’t there anymore.
Tears well in my eyes, and I blink rapidly to keep them from falling. I have no idea whether this means they just left Iceland, or if our bond has been severed permanently and that’s why I can’t feel them anymore. Both thoughts are terrifying, though the second is far, far worse. Which is weird considering I was sure yesterday that I never wanted to speak to them again.
Isak is by my side in a blink, close but not touching me. “What can I do?”
I shake my head, unsure myself. “I just— I thought…”
What?That they’d wait for me indefinitely without knowing where I was?
Isak must be thinking along the same lines. “Levi has the coordinates for the next task, yes? They likely traveled to Greece to meet you there.”
“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around myself. “You’re probably right.”
He sighs and pulls me into a side hug. For a moment, I remain rigid, because we’ve never really hugged before, but his warmth, his delicious scent, and the way he doesn’t try for anything more makes it easy for me to relax against him. He’s a boulder of a man, and it’s so godsdamned nice to be held by someone right now.
“Let me know when you’re ready to talk about it,” he murmurs.
I glance up at him, but all I can see is the underside of his jaw, faintly stubbled with blond hair. He has shaven off all the remaining hair, and though I preferred his long, gorgeous locks, this suits him, too.
Maybe it’s easier to talk because he’s not looking at me, or maybe he’s using his amazing hugging abilities to coax out the truth, but I find myself spilling the whole story in that sun-bathed living room. It doesn’t take me long, and I only give him the broad strokes, but getting it out brings huge relief.
Isak barely knows me. I’m not sure I want his advice—or anyone’s—but it’s good to share this burden with someone else. Though my father is always on my side, he knows me and Levi too well—he can’t be an impartial listener.
Isak draws in a big breath and hums thoughtfully as I finish.
“Well?” I prompt, curious despite myself. “What would you do in my shoes?”
He looks down at me, his eyes luminous in the bright sunshine. “I’d get my ass to Crete as fast as possible,” he quips.
