“No,” Andy whispered, pulling up the strap of her nightgown. Ariadne was a bit bigger than Andy and most of the clothes she’d borrowed seemed to fall off her shoulder in an inadvertently seductive way. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“I know,” he said, watching her. “I heard.”
“How could you . . . ,” Andy began, and broke off when she saw the gleam of his smile in the dark. Of course he could hear her tossing and turning in bed. He was a Scion. He could probably hear her sighing his freaking name in her sleep. The thought made her want to turn and run back upstairs, but instead she stayed rooted to the spot, staring at his shape while her eyes adjusted to the dark.
“Get a glass.” Hector gestured to the bottle of milk and plate of cookies in front of him.
“Aha. Kate’s cookies. You beat me to it.” Andy chuckled. She took down a mug and slid in next to Hector on the bench. He was only wearing a pair of well-worn sweatpants that said REAL MADRID in fading letters down the side. “Don’t you ever wear a shirt?” she asked. She was attempting to joke but her voice came out shaky and breathy, ruining the cool-girl effect she was going for.
“Not to bed.” He smiled and took her mug to fill it. Andy watched the muscles in his forearm flex and relax as he poured. His hands fascinated her. She liked the way he held things in such a solid, sure way. Andy’s hands had a tendency to flutter daintily when she moved, something she blamed on her siren heritage. But when Hector’s hands touched something, they took control of it.
Andy nibbled on a cookie and found herself marveling at the difference between them. Hector was unapologetically masculine in everything he did, and just sitting next to him made Andy feel more feminine than she ever had before. Femininity was something usually equated with weakness in Andy’s mind, but now that she was near Hector, Andy realized that really feeling like a woman was just about the most empowering thing she’d ever experienced.
“Do you like soccer?” she asked, gesturing to the logo on his sweatpants.
“I like Madrid,” he replied. “My family spent a lot of years in Spain. I’d love to go back someday.”
“I liked Spain, but I think I prefer Scandinavia. Have you ever swum in a fjord?” He shook his head. “The ice glows milky-blue underwater. It’s . . .” She broke off and smiled shyly. “Maybe we can do that together someday.”
The silence stretched out between them as they stared at each other. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears and knew that Hector could hear it, too.
“Did you travel a lot growing up?” he finally asked.
“When I was young. Before my mother, ah . . . went her own way.” Andy looked down at her mug. “Sirens don’t raise kids like humans do. My mom stuck around a lot longer than most would have. She really tried with me.”
“When did she go her own way?” Hector asked, using Andy’s phrase.
“When I was seven she left me at boarding school.” She saw Hector wince. “Wow. Out loud, that sounds just awful, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he laughed quietly. “This must be a shock to you. Suddenly being a part of my big, crazy family.”
“No, I like it,” Andy replied immediately, conscious of the fact that he’d included her in his family. “I love it, actually.”
It felt like a warm bubble was expanding inside her, filling up spaces she didn’t even know she had, and she suddenly wanted to touch Hector very much. She leaned closer to him, hoping that if she invited him nearer he’d come the rest of the way.
“Andy. You’re a guest in my house. There are rules about this,” Hector whispered pleadingly. She looked up at his face, arrested by his tone. “You haven’t spent much time around men. Have you.” It wasn’t really a question, but she shook her head in answer, anyway. “Fix your nightgown,” he said softly.
Andy caught at the fallen strap with her fingertips and slid it back over her shoulder, loving the way Hector’s eyes followed every move she made, like he was trying to read something written on her skin.
“Come on,” he sighed regretfully, standing up and taking her by the hand. He led her back upstairs to his sister’s room, pausing outside the door.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sensing that she’d done something wrong.
“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, do you?” Hector asked with a humorous glint in his eye.
“No idea,” she admitted, feeling a bit silly.
He leaned close to her and brushed his lips against her cheek. Andy felt a shiver radiate out from where he’d kissed her, like ripples spreading on the surface of a pond.
“I’ll show you later,” he promised, his voice shaking slightly.
Hector opened the door to Ariadne’s bedroom and gently pushed a very confused Andy through it.
Helen sat up in bed. The sound of lapping waves greeted her and clear sea air, sweetened with the scent of rain-forest flowers, wrapped Helen in dewy heat.
She ran her hands over the crisp sheet under her and felt the dent next to her that still smelled like Lucas. She swung her bare legs to the side, parting the gauzy curtain of mosquito netting that hung over the wide, white bed. The teak floor was glossy and cool underfoot. A seashell wind chime announced where the entrance to the hut was, and Helen padded barefoot toward it.
Outside,