“No one else has noticed,” I admit softly, neither of us moving.
“That’s because no one pays attention. Tell me,” he demands again.
I want to tell him, I realise with shock, although I don’t know why. It’s not like we ever really got a chance to get to know each other. Trust isn’t something that comes easily to me, it has to be earned, and even then I half expect it all to fall apart on me. Yet I want to trust him, and the pull between us is telling me that I do know him.
“I have a different past than the other ladies here,” I hedge, twisting my silver cuffs around my wrist, my nerves making me feel twitchy. He takes the half step around me, so we are now facing each other. He’s so close that if I reach out, I could trace his tribal tattoos.
“I was drawn to you before, but I couldn’t place why.” The admission is threaded with confusion, and I get the impression that Tor isn’t drawn to many people. “It wasn’t until I saw you with black hair that I understood.” I frown as he speaks. What did he understand?
“Why do you look like my dead best friend?” There is accusation in his tone, along with anger and frustration.
I take a step back in shock. “It’s a coincidence,” I whisper, but even I don’t sound like I believe what I’m saying. His expression tells me that he thinks I’m lying, and as I take another step back, he reaches out to grab me.
“Careful, you’re about to step out of the shield.” His hand closes around my wrist, stopping my movement but pulling my cuff off in the process. My eyes widen in horror, and I slap my hand over my slave marks, except he catches a glimpse before I can cover them. His expression turns hard and he pulls my hand away, revealing my secret and cursing long and hard in a language I don’t recognise.
“A slave. You were a slave,” he spits, his disgust clear. I don’t know why that hurts so much. I don’t know this man, after all, but for some reason his words wound me. Pulling my hand sharply from his, I hold my wrist to my chest, reaching out my other hand for my cuff.
“Give it back.”
Tor is staring at me like I’ve grown another head, his emotions flashing across his face so quickly that I can’t identify them. “How-how is this possible?” he practically shouts, back to anger again.
“Give. It. Back,” I growl, taking an aggressive step towards him. His eyes widen and he wordlessly hands me my cuff. I quickly slide it back in place, taking a deep, relieved breath as soon as it’s on, hiding the marks. “Grayson saved me, I was blessed by the Mother,” I explain quietly, not going into any further details. He doesn’t deserve them.
His face changes then, and a blank expression takes over him as he watches me, his eyes never leaving my face. “Before you were a slave, who were you?”
Shaking my head, I start to twist my cuffs again, not sure where his questioning is going, but it’s making me uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I have no memories from before.”
This seems to catch his attention as he takes a step towards me, a bright interest entering his eyes. “You must have had a family, a past.” It’s not an inquiry, but a statement, his voice eager and pushy.
“Tor, I don’t know,” I snap, making his eyebrows rise. “Drop it, please.”
I’m as amazed at my behaviour as he seems to be. My complete personality change around him is surprising, and I have no idea where it’s coming from. I’m not like this with anyone else, but something about Tor drives me crazy. All of a sudden, he’s grinning, looking like he knows something I don’t, but I’ve had enough of this.
“Why are you here? How are you here? Why couldn’t I see you before?”
“I’m using a shield. My people use them, like a magical…blanket?” He searches for the word. “It covers a certain area and hides those within it, blending into the background. You looked like you could see it though.” His explanation ends on a frown as he remembers that I kept looking over at him. That explains why I could feel the shield, it uses their magic, but it doesn’t explain the pull.
“I sensed something, and I felt like I was being pulled towards