Page 61 of The Otherworld

I glance down, biting my lip at the sting of pain that races up my inner arm. Somehow, it doesn’t burn as much as it should. Not with Adam’s warm, strong hand cupping my elbow. Not with him standing this close to me, our legs nearly touching—the soft gray light cresting the lines of his beautiful, bruised face.

“I went out to fetch the wood because I promised Papa I would manage everything on my own,” I confess quietly. “I need to prove myself to him. It’s the only way he’ll change his mind about letting me go to the Otherworld.”

Adam remains silent as he finishes washing my other forearm. He sets the cloth aside and dips his fingertip into the ointment, then spreads a thin layer over my pinked skin.

“Do you need to prove it to him, Orca? Or do you need to prove it to yourself?”

Adam’s question takes me by surprise. I stare up into his deep blue eyes—the eyes of a man who is at peace with life because he knows he cannot control it. I both admire and envy that quiet, unshakable strength.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, feeling small and feeble under his gaze. “I suppose part of me wonders if I’m doing something wrong… if I have some weakness, some failing that I don’t even see, and—”

“Orca.” Adam leans forward, his hands on the table’s edge, his eyes level with mine. “Your only failing is that you don’t think highly enough of yourself. You don’t know how experienced and wise and strong you already are.” He shakes his head, his gaze darting over my face. “Did you ever think maybe it’s not you, but your father? Did you ever think maybe he just wants to keep you safe from all of it? All the bad things in the world, all the dangers he spoke of—it’s not that they would hurt only you. They hurt everyone.”

I tilt my head to the side, studying him. “Even you?”

“Even me.”

“So you think Papa’s right to keep me here?”

“No, I’m not saying he’s right. I just want you to know that it’s not some failing on your part. It’s not your lack of courage or strength… just the opposite.” Adam smiles a little as he looks at me. “You’re the strongest, most courageous woman I’ve ever met.”

His words kindle a glow of warmth in my chest. “Woman?” I echo the word with a blush. “I still feel like a child most of the time.”

“But you’re not a child. You’re capable of anything, Orca. I hope you’ll always remember that.”

I am struck speechless for a moment, my eyes blurring with the beginnings of tears.

Papa has never told me this. No one has ever told me this.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice a whisper as I let my hand slide out of my lap and fold over his. “Thank you, Adam.”

He freezes at my touch, looking a bit surprised—just like he did this morning when I caressed his freshly shaven face. I wonder if it’s considered bad etiquette in the Otherworld to touch someone whenever you feel the urge to. But it can’t be helped. Something in me hungers to feel his skin on mine—to learn every etch and detail that makes him one of a kind.

“I find it hard to believe you’re not married,” I say. “You seem like the sort of man every woman would want. Patient, kind, wise, strong… And you’re very handsome, on top of it all.”

Adam looks taken aback. “Uh, thank you,” he replies with a quizzical little frown, like that’s not really what he wanted to say. “Marriage is something I’ve… never gotten around to.”

“Because you’re too busy working? Or because you’ve never been in love?”

I can tell by the surprised glint in his eyes that it’s a question he’s not used to being asked. There’s a trace of a smile on his lips as he lets his guard down.

“Never been in love,” he admits in a whisper.

“Neither have I.”

That makes him laugh. And only then do I realize how silly I must sound—of course I’ve never been in love. I’ve never had anyone to love except my father.

“You will be,” Adam assures me, straightening up but keeping my hand enveloped in his. He looks down at our entwined fingers, gently tracing his thumb over my knuckles. “And whoever you end up falling in love with… he’ll be the luckiest man in the world.” With that, he releases my hand and steps back. “Now I’m going to go get that firewood. You stay here.”

* * *

That evening, Adam helps me prepare dinner. We stand side by side at the counter, slicing peppers and mushrooms in companionable silence while Lucius snores on the floor under the table.

I love stealing glances at Adam when he’s not paying attention—taking note of all his little quirks and mindless habits. The way he always clears his throat before bringing up a new topic. The way he takes off his shoes—left foot first, then right. The way he pauses to think before answering a meaningful question. Even the way his hands move the knife gracefully over the cutting board. Slice, slice, slice, through the golden peppers.

“Orca.”

“Hmm?”

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