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“Is it because of your family?”
His entire body tensed.
“I’m sorry. I know you don’t like to talk about them. But . . . if you need to. I’m here.”
The only thing that could be heard were the cicadas that seemed to be getting louder the darker it got and some croaking frogs looking for mates. I felt for the frogs.
After a moment or two Eric pulled me closer. “My parents are all but dead to me. I have three brothers I do my best to stay away from and a crazy grandmother who should be committed. You’re lucky you had such wonderful parents. They obviously shaped you into the person you are now, just like mine made me who I am.” Resentment laced his words.
My heart ached for him. “I don’t know what your parents did to you, but from where I stand you grew into a good person despite them.”
“Sorrel,” he groaned. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I sat up and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Only a good person with a kind heart could have written the article you did about me. And look what you did to uncover that awful sweatshop ring. You helped save hundreds of women and girls.”
Eric looked up to the sky. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then tell me.”
“If only I could.”
I rested my hand on his heart. “If you ever want to, I’m here.”
He took my face in his hands and drew me to him, only to lightly kiss my lips. “Let’s not waste this night on trivial matters.”
“You’re not trivial,” I whispered against his lips.
“Debatable. Besides, you’re much more interesting. Tell me more about your travels.”
I snuggled back into him. “Where should I begin?”
“I think last time we left off in Iceland.”
“Oh yes. The Blue Lagoon is known for its geothermal salt water. Not only is it stunning, they also do massages while you’re floating in the water that make you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Holding a beautiful woman by the river will make you feel that way too.”
Oh, wow, was he good with the one-liners. They took my breath away. But I knew how he felt. If there was a heaven, I wanted it to be like this—in his arms for eternity.
We talked and talked until the cicadas chirped and the frogs croaked their last good nights. Until my eyes became heavy. Eric didn’t seem to mind. It was as if he didn’t want the night to end. He gently laid me next to him. His fingers lightly brushed my cheeks. “What I wouldn’t give to do this every night.”
I gave him a sleepy smile. I think I drank too much wine. I was teetering between awake and dreamland. “Eric,” I whispered, “do you want to know another secret?” My eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
His lips skimmed mine. “Tell me.”
My muddled brain tried to form what I wanted to convey to him. “If I could, I would . . .”
“You would what?”
“I would . . .” What would I do? Oh yes. “I would bind myself to you forever.”Chapter SeventeenEric
Eric sat outside his bedroom window on the damp metal fire escape listening to the sirens blare in the background. It was Atlanta’s nightly theme music. Most of the time he could drown it out, but not tonight. Even the perpetual smell of curry from the Indian restaurant below, that he normally welcomed, was making his stomach turn. Sorrel’s last words on the riverbank haunted him. He repeatedly scrubbed a hand over his face, knowing what he needed to do, yet still trying to convince himself otherwise. Maybe her exhaustion had made her say bind instead of give herself to him. Or perhaps in all her travels there was some culture she’d come across that used the term that he’d only ever heard his people use. And why would she want to bind herself to him? he questioned, repeatedly. They hardly knew each other.
Yet he felt the same way.
Had the book manufactured their feelings? The thought made him clench his fists. For once in his life he wanted something real. Someone to care for him, even if it had to be from a distance. Though it wasn’t how he would wish it, he had a sense of peace knowing that Sorrel existed and that she thought so much more of him than he did himself, than anyone ever had. But now that peace had turned to turmoil.
Was she from the Tellus family? Was this just a sick game the book had played with him? Had Sorrel played him for a fool? If so, she was the best damn liar he’d ever come across. He knew she’d felt the effects of his powers. He’d seen it in her eyes, in the way her body had shivered. Her response had seemed true, which had given him more pleasure than he’d ever experienced. Her deepest secret was that she’d wanted to kiss him. Not even he could have made that up on the fly. Perhaps she was more cunning than him.
