Читать книгу Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 1 and 2: The Ice Princess, The Preacher - Camilla Lackberg - Страница 11

2

He warmed a lock of her hair between his hands. Small ice crystals melted and made his palms wet. Carefully, he licked off the water.

He leaned his cheek against the edge of the bathtub and felt the cold bite into his skin. She was so beautiful. Floating there in the crust of ice.

The bond between them still existed. Nothing had changed. Nothing was different. They were two of a kind.

It took some effort to open up her hand so he could place his palm against hers. He laced his fingers with hers. The blood was dry and stiff, and small flakes stuck to his skin.

Time had never had any meaning when he was with her. Years, days or weeks flowed together, becoming an amorphous entity in which the only thing that meant anything was this: her hand against his. That was why the betrayal had been so painful. She had made time meaningful again. That’s why the blood would never flow hot through her veins again.

Before he left, he prised her hand back to its original position.

He did not look back.