Page 87 of A Curse On Black Lake
All that aside, I plan on keeping her safe here, even if I have to admire her from afar.
Chapter thirty
Killian
Anotherdayflewpastus, and after we finished dinner and cleaned the kitchen together, Eliana went upstairs and surprised me when she came back down freshly showered, with her sketchbook and a pencil.
“Do you want to sit out on the porch?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she says, and I hold the screen door for her.
I sip my beer while I listen to her pencil rasp against the paper.
She flicks her eyes at me before going back to her page.
The sun continues its descent behind the horizon, and a nice breeze picks up. I take a deep breath, smelling theether.
“There’s a storm coming,” Eliana says.
I take a swig and hum, watching her hair move with the wind, and what I wouldn’t do to wrap it around my fist, and tug.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers.
I blink and look away. “Sorry,” I grunt.
Her pencil stops, and she rubs her pert lips together. “No, I’m sorry, that was rude.”
Chuckling, I take another sip and sit the bottle on the deck. “No, little witch, it wasn’t because I was staring. It’s hard for me not to.” I rush out.
Her top teeth nibble her bottom lip, and I reach over, pulling it out. “I’m me, Killian. You’re …you.”
I huff. “And the sky is blue. What of it?” I ask her.
“You don’t want me,” she says so quietly it’s like the wind took the words out of her mouth.
“You don’t know what I want,” I state.
Her blue eyes darken, and I break our eye contact. I can’t stand the tension between us because I want to rip it apart with my bare hands.
“I may not know the words, but I can feel it,” she says. “And I don’t know if feeling it is a good thing.”
Unable to take it anymore, I ignore my baser instincts to grab her and show her she’s wrong, and force myself to stand. “I’m going to hit the hay.”
Eliana snaps her sketchbook closed and follows behind me. “I need to tell you something,” she blurts.
I lock the door and face her. I’ve never had to lock the door, but lately I feel like I have to, especially because we know someone is out there, and I know I’d need the time to get in front of her if necessary.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
She shifts on her feet nervously. “Please don’t be mad,” she says.
“What would I have to be mad about?” I ask her, ignoring the rolling in my gut.
“When you took some of the animals to the ranch, Wyatt showed up,” she blurts.
She won’t make eye contact with me, and I’m not sure how to take that. I’m not sure how to handle a lot of things. Living with a woman and having feelings for her, and not being able to act onany of it is confusing, and a little aggravating, if I’m honest. I’m not mad ather, but at the situation.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” I ask.
