Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Vada.”
She smiles and nods her head quickly. I was right. She wants me to say what the pictures are in my language. Her hands shuffle through the cards before she turns another card towards me.
“The moon.”
“Kahada.”
On and on she goes, but I’m waiting for her to show me a particular card, so she may come to finally understand, even if only a little, of what I said before to her. Finally, she turns the card with the two people holding hands to me. Before she can even say what it is in their language, I speak.
“Zawla.”
Her eyebrows furrow as she turns the card towards her again.
“Zawla?” she asks slowly.
Does she get it?
“Selina.” I point at her. Then, at myself. “Bothaki.” I point at the picture. “Zawla.”
“You want to hold my hand?”
Not what I mean, but I certainly would not turn down an opportunity to touch her.
“Bey,” I hurry to affirm.
“Yes?” She nods along with it.
I nod, too, letting her know my word meant yes as well.
She puts the cards back on the table and her hands rub together in an obvious show of nerves as she turns back to me. I am nervous, too, which is a completely foreign emotion for me. But being about to touch my mate for the first time seems like a fitting time to be a little on edge. She inches closer and I put my hands through the bars, letting them look as relaxed as possible, which is no small feat right now.
Her hand extends towards mine and I count the seconds it takes to reach mine. Her fingertips touch mine and a relief that I have never known rushes through me. A feeling I’ve been searching for, and never truly ever felt or known until now. A sound comes from upstairs, and as her head snaps up, her hand leaves mine. I would be ashamed of the whimper that tries to leave me if it were for anyone other than my mate. She begins to back away, fear filling her eyes. I press myself closer to the bars at the sight of it, every instinct inside of me telling me to break through these bars to protect her from whatever has erased her smile.
“I … I have to go,” she sputters out. “I’ll try to come back.”
Try? I never thought a single word could hurt so badly. As I watch her run through the library, getting further and further away from me, the thought of her never coming to see me again is unbearable.
“Zawla! Selina!” I shout, although I know she isn’t coming back.
I’ll settle for her even looking at me one last time over her shoulder like she did yesterday, but I’m not even granted that in her haste to get out of the library. The last thing I see is her hair whipping around the corner she turns.
My fists beat the bars once. For good measure. At least the pain against my now throbbing knuckles distracts me—if only for a moment—from the pain within my chest. If I thought her saying try hurt, having to watch her leave, knowing I couldn’t do a thing to stop her, or protect her from whatever reason caused that fear in her eyes, is agony.
I bring my right hand to me, resting where her fingertips met mine against my lips. I can almost taste her, feel her. But it does nothing to take away from the fact the darkness around and the empty room beyond the glass makes me face.
My mate is still gone.
FIVE
Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
I have to repeat those words to myself over and over as I flee the library. He yells my name, a desperation in his voice that makes me sure if I did turn around, I’d see that same pleading look as last night. As much as I want to see him one more time, to go back to those bars and feel his barest touch once more, I know I have not a second to waste. I was so distracted by my fingertips being against his that I must have missed it, the sound of the door opening. Because the sound that I did hear was my father’s boots on the floor above me. What I heard was my time quickly running out, if I have any time at all.
Last night, I barely made it back to my room and into my bed before he was opening my door. I don’t think I’ll make it tonight, but still I try, pumping my arms and legs as I run down the hallway, still hearing Bothaki shout my name in my mind. Even in my panic, I savor the sound of my name passing his lips. I already know many sections of the basement are soundproof and I don’t think my father will hear Bothaki. I can only hope he also won’t hear me running up the stairs to my bedroom, trying like hell to avoid him ever knowing I left it. I take the steps two at a time, reassuring myself that I’ll make it. That my father will never know I was gone. That I will get to see Bothaki again.