Page 128 of Frost and Death
I fidget with my other hand, seeking more answers. “Have you—have you used them without my knowledge beyond that?”
Jerrick’s eyes fall to the floor before repeating himself. “Yes.”
“If you can manipulate blood, why didn’t you heal me when I was shot?” I ask curiously, feeling a phantom prick where the arrow punctured me.
Jerrick slumps, as if it pains him to revisit our past. It is evident he is trying to avoid replying, his features mask away the pain as if I cannot read him.
His demeanor shifts, and I ache seeing the transformation.
Jerrick smirks, rubbing my hand. “Why can’t you just tell me yes or no to my question?” he asks, half annoyed, half amused.
But the haunted, kind Jerrick is beneath this mask, just as the tortured mess I am lies underneath my own.
Even with his question hanging between us, I don’t let him get away with not answering mine. I’ve seen different sides of this man, and I want to understand him. The need to differentiate the man from the king and the king from the curse grows the more I am around him.
I remind him. “You promised you would answer all my questions. Do not make me ask you why you are avoiding answering me, too.”
The smirk vanishes, and he withdraws. Jerrick averts his gaze, but I remain focused on him, studying the rise and fall of his chest to see if I have angered him.
But then he closes his eyes and slowly inhales.
He confesses, “My gifts are that of Letum. They are not meant to heal, only to take.”
A spasm rolls through my gut, and I wince, moving from the twisting happening internally.
Jerrick acts quickly, helping brace my body seizing.
I am beyond grateful for his quiet support. When it settles, I give myself a few moments before trying to communicate again.
“Well, maybe in this situation, taking will make me feel better,” I concede.
The anguish in Jerrick dissipates when our gazes meet once more, a soft smile drawing back his dimple.
But the knowledge of feeling his powers again brings unease to the surface. I harness my courage and brace myself. “H-How do we do this?”
He touches my chin, tilting me up to him as he leans in close. “Well, I could always just kiss—”
“No!” I blurt, sending him back in surprise.
But he doesn’t let that stop him from saying, “Last I remember, you liked it.”
“Last I remember, you did it without asking.”
“Hmmm,” he muses, feigning he is not affected by my remark.
Jerrick shrugs, his decision made. His hold on my chin lessens as he asks, “Can you move at all?”
“Why?” I groan, not wanting to move but willing to if it means faster relief.
“If you want immediate relief, the best course is to place my hands wherever the most pain is.”
The thought of his hands warming me so close to my sex lures desire to the surface.
But the potential immediate relief has me mentally preparing for the energy to move, but Jerrick halts me.
“Here, I have a better idea.” Jerrick carefully helps move me off his knee.
I relax, grateful to not have to move more than necessary, but confusion furrows my brow when he stands.
