Page 41 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“She taught me how to survive. And if I hadnae met her, I dinnae think I would have. And if I hadnae survived, if I hadnae learned to live in this world as… what I am, I wouldnae be sitting here, begging you to stop hating me just long enough to hear me.” He stifled a sob. “I cannae bear your hatred, Jory. I cannae bear it.”

Callum hung his head. She didn’t move. The heat kicked off, and the room felt suddenly silent. Eventually, she stepped between his bent knees and raked a timid hand through his hair, sifting her fingers through the now-dry locks and gently pulling, lifting his head. She stepped closer still, until his cheek rested against the warmth of her torso, the bloody tears soaking into the wool.

He pulled away quickly.

“Your sweater. The blood. I?—”

“Fuck the sweater,” she whispered, gently tugging his hair until he collapsed against her, his face pressed against the soft, worn wool. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, breathed in her smell, as he’d done since she arrived. In some ways, he felt as if he were filling up a bank with it, so that if she left,whenshe left, he would have it stored in his memory, enough to get him through another thousand years. And then, who knew? Maybe she’d finally forgive him.

But he knew what he had to do. Though he’d been entirely ignorant of it, she’d been held hostage by him for too long.

“What will you do when ye have your sealskin back?” he asked, though he was terrified of her answer.

She was quiet for a moment before she whispered, “I’m going to go home.”

“Home?”

“Yes. To my mother. My father. My sisters. Home.”

“Will I see you again?” Callum asked, because he was a masochist.

She didn’t answer. Which was an answer by itself. She wouldn’t be returning. He wouldn’t get another chance in a hundred years or a thousand years. He would never see her again.

Jory kept stroking his hair absently. He almost groaned from how good it felt. He craved her touch. He wanted to kiss her again. When he’d been behind her on the stairs, he’d wanted to tear her jeans away and bury his face in her heat. He wanted to devour her. And now he might lose her. Forever.

There would be no second chances. If he couldn’t win her now, if he couldn’t convince her to stay, to remind her of what they had shared, of the way it had been once, he’d never get the opportunity again.

He pulled away far enough to look up at her, his hands wrapped behind her legs, his palms cupping the muscle of her calves. “I have some conditions. For bringing you the skin.”

She set her mouth in a hard line. “You think you have any right to place conditions on this?”

“Nay,” he admitted, stroking up and down the long line of her calves. “I dinnae have any right. But if you are going to leave and never return, if I am to face an eternity where I never see you again, what do I have to lose?”

She sighed, a gusty, frustrated exhale that he felt in his hair. She didn’t agree. But she didn’t disagree either, which was almost as good. His mind raced as he tried to plan an attack. No, not an attack.A seduction. Not of her body. Well, notonlyof her body. But of her mind and heart as well.

“One month,” he blurted out. Entirely uncollected. So very unlike himself.

“One month,” she repeated slowly.

“I get to see you eight times. Twice a week. And then I’ll go to Scotland and fetch the skin for you.”

“Twice,” she said, her hands leaving his hair, arms crossing over her chest. “I’ll agree to seeing you twice.”

“Marjory, seeing me eight times isnae so much to ask in the face of eternity, is it?”

“It’s Jory,” she snapped. “And two is my final offer.”

“Four,” he said. “Once per week.”

She glared at him, her eyes narrow and cat-like. “Fine,” she agreed after a long pause. “Once a week. And I’m coming to Scotland with you.”

“You dinnae trust me?” Callum asked, aiming for lighthearted but realizing his misstep the moment the words had left his mouth.

She lifted an eyebrow high, as if to say, “What do you think?”

“Verra well,” he said, his despair shifting into determination. “I see you once a week, and I’ll take you to Scotland.”

He stood and went to wrap his arms around her, but she stepped back, her palm out to push him away.