A Spell of Time
Page 32“That’s okay,” Micah said, holding my hand. “I understand.”
I gave him a faint smile.
We left the boathouse and walked around the lake a bit more before heading home. It was getting late now, and to avoid another grounding, Micah carried me on his back the rest of the way home.
He stopped at the foot of my tree at my request. I checked my watch. I had ten minutes to get my butt upstairs. I looked up at Micah. We hadn’t spoken much since our conversation in the boathouse. I found the look in his eyes unsettling. He looked… restless somehow. As though there was something he was hiding, something he was bottling up.
“Well, good night,” I said and turned to leave.
Strong hands gripped my shoulders and turned me around.
Before I could make sense of what was happening, Micah gripped my jaw and drew me closer. His lips pressed against my cheek, the tip of his hot, rough tongue brushing against my skin.
I staggered back, reaching up to where his mouth had been. His hazel-brown eyes looked fierce.
“Good night,” he growled.
He spun around and sprinted away. I stared after him. His limbs began transforming and he hit the ground on all fours as he pounded away into the distance.
That boy is wild.
I wasn’t sure what to make of Micah’s kiss. A part of me felt deeply uncomfortable about it. I was glad that we were having tests that week. I could bury myself in study and avoid thinking about both Caleb and the werewolf.
In my free time, I found myself going on longer walks by myself, deliberately avoiding the parts of the beaches where the werewolves tended to gather. As I walked along the beach one evening, on my way back home, I heard a gruff voice behind me.
“Hello.”
I whirled around to see the ogre.
“Oh, hello, Brett.”
This was the first time I’d really spoken to him since I’d met him the day they arrived on the island.
He stood at the entrance of a large cave. I’d forgotten that he lived on this side of the island.
“You wanna come in?” His meaty hand beckoned me over.
As much as I’d been assured by everyone that he wasn’t dangerous, my heartbeat doubled as I walked toward him over the boulders, slowly and cautiously. His appearance was so imposing, I couldn’t help but feel nervous.
He was grinning from ear to ear as I stepped into the cave, looking down at me with sheer delight.
Brett looked at me sheepishly. “Sorry there’s nothin’ for a princess to sit on yet,” he mumbled. “I need to work faster. I don’t get many folks visiting me, you see.”
I took a seat on his straw while he sat on the floor opposite me.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact I was sitting next to an ogre. I hadn’t even known such things existed until recently. I remembered my father reading stories involving ogres to Ben and me when we were younger, but I’d thought they were nothing more than that—stories. Then again, it wouldn’t take much getting used to, having grown up with vampires as parents.
I looked at his work in progress on the floor, admiring his handiwork.
“That’s looking pretty,” I said. “How long will it take you to complete it?”
He shrugged. “Going slower than I’m used to. I don’t have as good tools as I did back home. I had to leave them all,” he said, wiping his runny nose with the back of his hand.
“I’m sure we have extra chairs if you need any. The witches are good with that sort of thing. And what about getting you a more comfortable bed? This straw seems spiky to sleep on.”
“I like creating my own stuff. And I like straw too. It’s good for itches. You should try it sometime.”
“Hm, maybe I will.”
I stood up and crouched down closer over his half finished chair. I was impressed by how delicately designed it was—there were beautiful etchings in the wood around the seat. I wondered how long he had been laboring over it.
He cast another wistful glance at his half-finished chair and sighed. “Yeah, well, it was my job before. When we were back on our own island. Captain Matteo gave me the job of creating things. ’Cos I don’t like to fight.”
“Fight?”
He eyed me. “Yeah. Like when nasty people tried to enter our island. I don’t like it.”
“Oh, okay. I understand.” I reached out and patted his leathery forearm. “I don’t like fighting either.”
A pang of sadness hit me as I looked once more around his damp empty cave. It occurred to me how lonely this creature must get, being the only one of his kind on the island.
“Have you always lived alone?”
He looked taken aback by my question, as though the answer should be obvious. “Yes.” Then he chortled and shook his head. “There isn’t anyone who’d want to share my cave with me.”
I paused, looking into his face. It was innocent, good-natured. Much like a child.
“We need to find you a pretty girl ogre to keep you company, Brett.”
He blushed. He actually looked sweet—a word I’d never thought I’d use to describe an ogre.