Page 127 of A Thief to Die For

He begins to rock us back and forth, and his hand slides up my back, causing goosebumps to race over my skin. I shiver and my forehead falls against his chest.

He groans softly.

‘What?’ I ask, lifting my head. ‘Are you okay?’

He swallows. ‘I can honestly say I’ve never been better. But I’m going to need you to slow down on the … sending-me-sensations thing. For now.’

I laugh. ‘The what?’

‘We can share the good things as well as the bad.’ He blows out a slow breath, then his brows furrow. ‘Speaking of which, your ankle – it still bothers you?’

I tilt my head, considering the ache that I’ve become good at ignoring. He can feel that? ‘It’s hardly worth complaining about.’

His gaze falls to my parted lips, then he kisses me. ‘I’m going to heal your ankle now.’

He might as well be speaking Gergan because his words don’t register at all. I’m nothing but sensations. Emotions.

Ryland’s eyes close. He’s concentrating, and soon I feel a gentle pressure on my mind. He smiles as if he’s found the part of me he was looking for.

Peace floods me. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Exploring you like an old-world map.’

That’s an excellent analogy because I feel him. This link between us is like a road that extends into both of us now, and he’s wandering me. Learning parts of me. An image of him delicately holding my foot in the tent flashes in my mind. It feels like something I’ve remembered, but it came from him. ‘What does that mean?’ I ask.

‘May I attend to your foot?’

I’m so curious, I nod.

Instantly, the dull ache in my ankle fades to something barely decipherable. Just like that. ‘Ryland,’ I gasp. ‘But now you have the pain?’

He drags his nose lightly along my jawline, causing my breath to hitch. ‘You tell me.’

I grin at the challenge. Okay. Now it’s me following the mental path between us as we continue to sway back and forth to our own beat. It takes a second to figure things out, but I quickly catch on. Every corner, every branching path leads to a new area of him. I try one, since I don’t know where to go. These are where his memories are. There’s a banquet of them. Some closer, some further away. I lean into one

An image of a woman with greying hair appears in my mind. It’s followed by a warmth in my chest. Pride. Love.

‘That’s my mother.’

My heart melts. ‘She looks lovely.’

He hums in agreement and reminisces a little longer, showing me her house. Then his house, where he lived with Samuel. I’m fascinated by what I see, and we go back and forth, sharing parts of ourselves. All our favourite things.

One of my memories is of Agatha. Of how we grew up, sharing a bed most nights, taking turns telling bedtime stories and giggling until we fell asleep – until everything changed between us. A sharp arrow of pain pierces my side.

Ryland’s smile falters. I feel his hesitation about whether he should speak. ‘I had a dream about Agatha after she died,’ he says softly. ‘Or maybe it wasn’t a dream; I don’t know what it was. But I saw her, and it felt real.’

My brows furrow.

‘Do you want to see it?’

My eyes sting as his memory of her appears as if I’m the one remembering it. Agatha’s there as clear as day, sitting beside him, smiling at me.

I’m quiet for a long time, not knowing myself how I feel. I miss Agatha. Sometimes the ache is so present and overwhelming it feels like a knife is lodged in my throat – like now. But I’m also so proud of her. Proud of the courage she found to do what she felt was right, even though it cost her everything to save Ryland. Suddenly, the crushing unbearableness of losing her inexplicably eases. My gaze flits to Ryland. ‘Are you doing that?’

His lips press into a line. ‘You know, my people argue over the purpose of the connection, but I think I’ve learned … it’s for times like this. To show that you’re not alone.’

Eventually, the music shifts into a driving beat. My head snaps up. ‘That’s my favourite song.’