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Interesting.
His heart stilled, irritated that he’d been so excited to see her. She was just another witch. She was like the last one, and now he’d have to kill her, too. Was that why she’d come to the island?
Had she come to hurt him?
“Who are you?”
He detected something in her voice. It wavered. She was scared. She hadn’t expected to see him, had she?
Interesting.
So maybe she wasn’t here to hurt him.
“My name is Felix,” he answered, walking forward. He closed the gap between them until the two of them stood only ten feet apart. He looked at her, carefully considering her appearance. She’d been traveling for awhile, if he had to guess. She looked tired, and her feet were bare.
She didn’t seem so scared now. In fact, he could tell that she liked the way he looked. Felix couldn’t quite explain how he knew. He had always had this ability. He could scent the emotions of the people around him. If the witch had known, she’d never mentioned it, and Felix had never told her.
Secrets were a rare commodity when he’d been growing up, and he’d held his close to his chest.
“Who are you?”
“I just told you my name,” Felix said. “Who are you?”
The woman stared at him, and he suddenly knew that whatever she said next would be a lie.
“Yvette,” she said.
“Liar.”
Her eyes widened.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. That’s a lie. I want to know who you actually are.”
“You don’t know me,” she snapped, frowning. “What makes you think that you have the right to call me a liar?”
“I just did.”
“I’m not a liar.”
“You are,” he said.
Felix was patient. He’d wait all day if he had to. He was used to waiting. He’d never gotten anything that he wanted right away, and he didn’t have to get anything now. Whoever this woman was, she’d traveled here alone. She’d brought a little boat that was barely larger than a canoe.
She was probably exhausted, which meant she’d need time to sleep, rest, and regroup. Whatever she did, it wasn’t going to be today. She was going to need some time on the island before she went back out to sea.
“I’m not,” she whispered, insistently.
“Darling, I don’t know what your name is, but I guarantee it’s not Yvette.”
“Fine,” she whispered. She licked her lips, and his eyes went to her tongue as it darted out, swiping softly.
“What are you called?”
“My name is Tabitha.”
“Tabitha.”
