Page 23 of The King is Dead
He bolted upright and the bedcovers fell to his waist baring his chest, shoulders, and the rigid muscles of his arms as he fisted the furs.
“No,” he growled.
I froze halfway across that anteroom, staring at him. “Melek,please—”
“I don’t… trust you,” he rasped through clenched teeth.
Despair and fear washed through me. I drew myself up but kept my voice low.
“I know this is difficult. But I also know I’m not the only one suffering tonight,” I whispered. I threw the hood of my cloak back just in case he couldn’t see my face. I needed him to see me. To feel me through the bond. Torelent.
And see me he did. When my face and hair were free of the hood, his eyes scanned me from crown to toe, returning to my face as he drank me in.
I took one step closer to him. He swallowed and flinched.
He wasn’t ready.
Frantic need fought with shivering insecurity, coating the inside of my ribs, but I clutched the length of my cloak and made myself keep my chin high and my eyes locked on his.
His forehead creased as I started towards him, but he laid back down to watch as I reached the bars.
But my steps faltered.
There was nothing here. Turo must have removed the table and chairs I’d used to share a meal with him earlier.
An icy breeze lifted strands of my hair. Melek hadn’t shuttered the windows and it was freezing.
I stared into his eyes to let him see I yearned to join him in that bed, to twine our limbs and warm each other’s skin... But he only grunted and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
With asigh, I curled myself in my cloak and sat on the floor with my back to the bars. I would watch the shadows under the door and hide myself if the guards entered.
At least I could hear him breathe.
~ MELEK ~
It tookforeverfor her to slip to the floor and fall asleep, but eventually her breathing slowed and evened out.
I thought I’d be able to relax, maybe even sleep myself since the bond was heaving with relief, though it still niggled with the need to touch her. She looked so small curled up like that, like a lonely puppy desperately seeking the warmth of its litter.
I laid there with sleep eluding me, staring at her tiny form.
And then she began to shiver.
Tiny waves trembled through her body. She must have been truly exhausted because she didn’t wake. As silently as I was able, I slipped out of bed and crept across the room to shutter the windows, sending the space into near pitch-black.
But when I returned to bed it was stilltorturewatching her. She had come here to be close to me. Yet, while I lay here warm and comfortable, she froze.
I made it through an hour, but when she whimpered I was moving before I’d thought to.
Grabbing the largest of the furs, I rolled out of bed and pulled it around my shoulders, slipping across the freezing cold stones towards her.
When I stood over her on the other side of the bars she stirred. I thought she’d wake up, but she just sighed and shivered again.
With a muttered curse, I relented and settled down on my side of the bars, right against her back. I heard her breath catch and I felt her wake and go still, but I didn’t speak or reach for her. I laid there with my spine against the bars and draped the fur over my front and sides so that my warmth would reach her in the gaps where our backs pressed together.
She didn’t move or make a sound.
When I’d settled with my hands and feet curled up under the fur, I clenched my teeth and let my weight rest back against her.
