Page 32 of Locked
Ready to video chat with my guys.
Well, not all of them at once. I was going to try them each one at a time first. All of them at once felt like it would be overwhelming.
I'd decided already that the first one I should subject to my face and voice should be Sorrel.
I had briefly entertained the notion of video-chatting with Rifyr first, but I was worried that if I did, I'd do something I probably shouldn't. Like flash him my boobs because oh geez, he was beautiful.
Kinden was obviously the other choice and while I knew talking with him would not disappoint, I also knew that Sorrel was the one who I was least nervous about chatting with. He'd be an excellent warm up.
I pulled most of my hair back from my face and out of the fire's way before I began. Then, I took the herb bundle and lit the end of it with a snap of my fingers. Well. Three snaps, I wasn't that great with fire spells. (Maybe Mother was right about me needing to practice). I blew out the lit end until it was smoldering beautifully. I waved it around the area, filling the sunroom with the pungent aroma of perisage. I chanted, keeping my voice low and full as I filled the room with the smoke.
I spread the smoke around my tablet, asking the earth to once again help me remain hidden by Her magic. To keep me hidden from Mother as I did things I likely shouldn't be doing, but wanted so very badly.
Once I was satisfied that I'd completed the smudging and the chant to the fullest of my abilities, I opened up the app on my tablet and then my chat with Sorrel.
My heart was thumping wildly in my chest as my thumb hovered over the video chat button. I took a deep breath, the storm clouds swirling overhead giving me strength. And as the storm began to blow into the area, I tapped the video chat button, engaging him in a chat.
I had no idea what it did on his end, if it notified him or what.
But whatever it did, he responded right away.
"Hey…" Sorrel said tentatively, his voice soft and deep as he squinted at the screen. His voice was raw, like mine when I had a cold or got hoarse.
It sounded really good on him, though. Smooth in the middle, rough on the edges. It dragged in the best ways.
In that moment, I couldn't speak. I would probably be content just to listen to him talk. But that's not how conversations worked. I'd actually have to say something soon.
He was so beautiful. His eyes widened when he registered my image.
My heart hammered in my chest as the rain began to pelt the windows around me.
"Zelle? Oh my--is thatyou?"
I nodded, finally finding my voice and squeaking out a reply. "It's me. Isthatyou?"
Sorrel smiled, his expression once again lighting up his entire face. "It's me."
I set the tablet down on the small table in front of me, propping it against a clay pot. I grinned widely, seeing my own image in the corner of the larger one on the screen. I reached for a strand of hair to twirl around my finger, abandoning the endeavor once I remembered that I'd pulled it all back from my face. It was a nervous twitch I didn't even know I had until just then. Right then. Right when I was seeing Sorrel for the first time.
I had folded my legs beneath me, but now that felt wrong. Like I needed to move them or something. I wasn't sure what position would give me both optimum comfort and visual appeal, but for whatever reason, that was what I focused on, because he was too gorgeous to look at for too long. And I was petrified of making a mistake.
"Where on earth have you been hiding all my life?" he murmured, tilting his head slightly.
"In a tower towards the center of the city," I replied, giggling in a way that I immediately hated. But he didn't seem to notice how awkward I was. He was looking at me with stars in his eyes.
He laughed too, shaking his head in disbelief. "I knew you'd be beautiful, Zelle. But it almost hurts to look at you… you're so breathtaking." His eyes looked sad even though he was smiling. His hands, which were currently folded in front of him on his desk, clenched and unclenched and clenched again, before he placed them flat on the surface. "I wanna touch you…" he murmured softly.
"Me too," I admitted, a stray piece of hair that I'd missed fell into my face, a long strand that tangled around my ear and caught on my chewed-up fingernails when I tried to push it back.
Mother had told me often that I was beautiful, but she'd never described it in the way Sorrel was. She never gave the impression that beauty was something to be desired, only something to be scorned. Something fleeting that I would lose. And once I lost it, I would have no real worth in its absence.
It was always a shame, my beauty. A waste, because I was stuck in this tower. A shame because I'd never be a wife.
I should have been ugly. Plain. Homely.
And smarter. Smart women were never bored, Mother insisted. Never bored, never had to think of things to do. They weren't as careless with their magic. Nor as mean spirited.
Mother looked at me like I was a burden.
