He stretches up tall directly in front of me. His small steps are hesitant, sliding along the dirt. “Don’t move, please.” His whispered voice blows against my face, forcing a shiver down my spine.
It takes sheer will not to reach out and touch him, but I don’t want to hurt him. So, I remain as still as a statue.
He lifts his hand, slowly touching my stomach with his fingertips through my T-shirt. Chills run down my spine, and I moan loudly.
Fuck.
Those shaky fingers run up my chest. Opening his hand, he lays it flat over my heart, and I swear I may combust. He leans forward, pausing a breath away from my lips. If I twitch at all, we’d be kissing.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling on it to keep myself from moaning again.
Both of us are too afraid to move, nor do either of us want to break the magnetism firing between us.
“I-I-I…” I stammer and then click my teeth shut. There are no words that can express what’s happening in my head right now.
“I feel it too,” he whispers.
And we remain locked in position for God knows how long. Because something about him has me trapped, and I don’t even care.
Chapter 22
Adriel's POV
“How old are you?” Rami asks, looking up from where he’s pulling weeds. I open my mouth to tell him when his eyes grow comically large. “Oh shit! That’s probably not a kind thing to ask.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips. The past three days that he’s been here have truly been sensational. He has such a zest for life that I can’t help but be drawn in by him. Part of me wishes this will never end, but then I remind myself that he’s mortal and everything must end eventually. A life without Rami in it isn’t living.
Ludo gently touches my arm, reminding me that Rami had asked me a question.
“I don’t know my age,” I answer.
Rami’s brows pinch together, creating an adorable line between them. “Is that part of your curse too?”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head and chuckling lightly. “I don’t know how many years have passed. Time feels different since I’ve been here.” The admission likely should make me uncomfortable, but it is something I’ve come to terms with long ago. Time stopped mattering alongtime ago.
“Let’s see.” I scratch the scruff along my jawline. “I left home around the late 1620s.” My voice trails off, trying to remember that long ago to make sure my timing is accurate.
“Holy fucking shit, dude!” I sit back on my heels to see what has upset him. It takes me several seconds to realize it’s only shock and not something more nefarious. “I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting, but not four hundred. Wait!”
Rami sits up taller, staring directly into my eyes. My hands run along my thighs to keep them busy so I don’t reach out and touch him again. Now that I’ve learned I can handle contact through our clothes, I have a hard time keeping my hands to myself.
“That means you were alive during the Salem Witch Trials, right?” he asks, wonder sparkling in his brilliant blue eyes.
“I’m not familiar with what that is.” It can’t be good, though.
“It’s where they burned a bunch of women, and a few men, at the stake. Accused them of being witches.”
The breath in my lungs turns stale, and I find it troublesome to breathe properly. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
Rami’s shoulders lift toward his ears in an exaggerated shrug. “Mass hysteria mostly. Or bigots unwilling to understand people who were different from them. History believes that most of them weren’t even witches. Not that being a witch is grounds for murder. It happened in the late 17th century.”
“Then I suppose I was safe here by then.” I glance down at my markings, clearly labeling me as a witch. If I were free from this curse, perhaps I would also have been murdered in such a way. If nature hadn’t claimed my body before then, that is. “How old are you, sweet Rami?” I ask, in hopes of changing the subject.
“Twenty-one. I have one more year left in college, and hopefully, with my high grades, I can prove myself worthy and regain my freedom.”
“How does one’s education determine their worth?” I really don’t understand this world he lives in.
“It doesn’t,” he admits with a weighted sigh. “But the courts deemed me unfit to care for myself, which is why I was forced to live with my grandmother.”
