Page 28 of Tide Touched

A few minutes after Ella has delivered my breakfast, there comes an urgent knock on my door. I glower, sipping my coffee. What could be urgent? It’s early. I nibble my toast, still glaring at the door. The only reason I let Ella in is because food. Coffee. ‘Go away!’ I grumble. I don’t want to deal with Carter this early. What do you say to the guy who, last you knew, snuck out of your bed, locking you in? Bad manners, that.

‘It’s me,’ Ella calls.

‘Oh. Come in, then, I guess.’

Ella ducks quickly into my room, scurrying like a mouse.

‘Did you forget something? I still have clean clothes—’

Ella closes the distance between us. ‘A man gave me this to give to you. I didn’t get his name, but—’ She holds out a beautiful dusty pink shell. A smaller, younger sister of the last gift of its kind.

‘Killian.’ I launch to my knees, grabbing the shell from her. I look at every inch of it, running my fingers over the smooth surface. My heart warms as I clutch the gift, as unexpected as the last. My gaze snaps to her, but Ella is already headed for the door. ‘Wait. He’s here?’

But she’s already slipped out. I should toss a mug at her. Okay, not really. But who does that? I stare down at the precious shell as the back of my throat burns.

What does this mean? Could this really be from Killian? How?

I get to my feet and go to the window. I turn the shell over and over between my fingers.

The next two days pass in the same rhythm. Locked up in this stupid tower, feeling more and more like a pathetic damsel sequestered away—not to be seen, only used.

I spend the sunlit hours wishing to be let free of my cage—which has oddly come to feel familiar, almost homey, and definitely more spacious compared to my old home shack—and painting and reading. I shove the puzzle into a corner on the floor because I spent thirty minutes trying to put it together only to realise it has at least half the pieces are missing. Rude.

My maidservant, Ella, comes and goes, clearly not meant to be spending too much time talking with me. I’ll soon run out of paints. I’ve painted every variation with my three shades of blue-green-brown I can. Every teal, aqua and ocean hue possible, mixed with the earthen shades of brown-green. I’ve been using water to try to stretch them further, but acrylics don’t work like that. Not well.

The books Ella left me haven’t held my attention. They’re contemporary, not designed—at least, for me—as escapism. I mean, human contemporary. I don’t want to read about boring human lives. The words flow together on the pages, and I find myself staring out the window—I refuse to shut it, my only source, or illusion, of freedom—searching for the howls that feel so familiar, but they only come at night.

How can I love the howls that send me into a warm, comfortable sleep, but not the wolf whose mouth it comes from? Strange. Carter has such odd, varying effects on me.

The last two days have slipped away in the same way. I wake, paint, attempt to read, stare out the window and wait for Carter to come, we have sex, and he stays for a few minutes, then leaves. After the night he stayed and fell asleep with me, he’s been distant. I have no idea why.

But tonight, I am determined, will be different. I refuse to be locked up here any longer.

When Carter knocks on the door, more patiently, I call for him to enter. As he opens the door, locking it behind him, before he can say anything, I set my hands on my hips.

‘I’m sick of this,’ I say, without preamble.

‘Well, I know you haven’t been with anyone else, but I thought you’d still enjoy me,’ Carter says in his single attempt of sexual humour since I’ve known him. I sigh and lean back on the bed. He leans against my dresser. ‘Sick of what?’

‘Being stuck in here.’ I try to keep my anger at bay. Ella said at some point Julian, the alpha, would want to dine with me. That this situation would only be temporary. ‘I don’t want to stay in this room anymore. I want to go outside. To run.’

Carter gives me a once-over, drumming his fingers on his opposite arm. With a sigh, he nods. ‘Fine. You can dine with me and Uncle tonight. What happens to you is ultimately up to him.’

I meet his gaze, those azure eyes slightly warmer than usual. ‘Do you want me locked up?’ I try to inject every ounce of puppy-dog eyes into my expression as possible. ‘Carter, I hate this. I’m going to go crazy in here.’

He sighs, as though my situation is nothing but a bother to him. He runs a hand over his stomach, an odd gesture, then lowers his gaze. ‘My uncle might not agree to what you want.’ Carter’s voice is somehow both sympathetic and clipped.

I furrow my brow. ‘You can’t keep me locked up forever.’

Carter joins me on the bed. To my surprise, he sets a hand on my back. Not my lower back, not a gesture of intimacy, but something softer. ‘I hate to say this, but he can do what he wants.’

I glare at him. ‘I’m your mate. Not his.’

‘He’s the alpha.’

‘Then—I’ll be good. I’ll be nice, and charming and—’

Carter reaches up, and I automatically flinch. He’s going to tug my hair. Instead, he turns me by the shoulders to face him. ‘Katherine, you’re Fire. Not Water. You’re not one of us. I’m sorry, but you’re not—you’re not in the position you think you are. Yes, you’re my mate, but my uncle, he sees you as—’

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