Page 21 of Tide Touched

At least I had someone to talk to for a few minutes. ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘For a Water, you’re not too bad.’

Ella offers a smile. ‘Thanks. For a Fire, neither are you.’ Her eyes twinkle. For a moment, I’m grateful to have her, knowing I’ll see at least one friendly face every day.

The morning passes slowly. I keep myself busy by showering, brushing my teeth and getting dressed, then reorganising the contents of the dresser three times before Ella’s soft knock comes again. ‘Come in.’

Ella opens the door, lets herself in, locking the door behind her. In her arms is a wooden box. ‘I didn’t know what you might like. I ran into Carter, by the way. He said he will come see you before supper.’ Ella sets down the box on the table opposite the armchair. She sets out a sandwich for me, then starts emptying the box.

I sit on the bed and watch her set down three books, a puzzle of some kind, and—I gasp, getting to my feet when I see the paints.

Ella looks at me, her eyes wide. ‘You like painting?’ She sets down a canvas book and a few brushes, along with a jar to fill with water and a rag upon which to clean them. ‘I only found a few colours.’

I hold up the green and brown and blue. ‘That’s okay. Thank you.’ I touch her arm, needing her to know how much I appreciate this. ‘You didn’t have to.’

Ella shrugs uncomfortably. ‘Happy to help.’

I sit down in the armchair, more excited than I’ve been in a long time. I raise the bottles of paint to the weak, watery sunlight. Most of them are half-full, at least. ‘Ella, can I ask you something?’

The young woman pauses. ‘Sure.’

‘Do you have a boyfriend, someone you love?’

Ella gives a sad smile. ‘No. I don’t. I just turned nineteen. I won’t meet my mate for a while yet.’

I turn to face her. ‘But… you could be with someone until then?’

Ella blinks. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why not?’

Ella shifts on her feet. ‘I just… my parents are mated. They’ve been together since they got their wolves. I just want that. True love. Whoever I’m with before then… it wouldn’t be that.’

‘Do you think… does the love part come with the mate bond?’ I have no one else to ask.

Ella considers. ‘My parents have always been head over heels for each other.’ She meets my gaze, understanding. ‘You and Carter are still strangers.’ She comes and sets a hand on my shoulder. ‘Be patient. Everything might not fall into place right away—and Carter’s girlfriend must make things hard for him—but I’m sure it will get easier. And once he knows you, trusts you’—she gestures to the confines of my room, the locked door—‘I’m sure this is just temporary.’

I meet her gaze and nod, letting out a long sigh. ‘Thanks.’ For the paints, the books. My sanity. I offer a little smile as she leaves.

I don’t bother to check the lock on the door. I spend the afternoon painting the hues of the sky and woods, greens, blues, browns, and blending them together, getting lost in all the different shades I can create.

When the next knock on my door comes, it startles me away from my task which I’d been absorbed in.

This knock is too loud, too impatient to be Ella.

Chapter Twelve

Killian

Fire burns through my veins, hot and prickling like a thousand needles. In wolf form, I howl for a long time, knowing in my heart, some deep part of my soul, that things are not as they should be. I wonder if Katherine can hear my howls, tucked away in some high, locked room of the estate.

I make my way back to the little camp with Moira and my men. I suspect I might have woken them, but I don’t have the energy to care. When I emerge from the woods and tug my clothes back on, Moira is sitting by a newly-lit fire.

‘Did I wake you?’ I ask gingerly, sitting opposite her. The fire doesn’t seep into my skin as it should. Instead, I feel the cold of the breeze like a hand around me. I wonder if Katherine is kept somewhere warm.

Moira runs a hand through her short hair. ‘No. I couldn’t sleep.’ She meets my gaze over the dancing flames. ‘Do you think… Do you think he’s hurting her?’ Her voice is a strangled whisper, as though she can barely manage to get the words out without choking on them.

I lower my gaze, staring into the fire, letting it sear my vision. A large part of me wants to say, If he has, I’ll rip him to shreds. But to say that to Moira, her friend? No, it would scare her. It would confirm her fear. Instead, I pick up a log and throw it on the fire, watching the sparks rise into the sky like fireflies.

‘No, he has no reason to hurt her. They’re mated.’ I have no idea if that’s true or not, having not been mated myself, but I have a feeling that’s what Moira needs me to say.

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