I yelp and scuttle away, taking the sheets with me and nearly falling out of bed. Somehow I find my feet and manage to cover my bits with a sheet.
“What the hell are you doing!” I yell.
Dyfri stares at me with that carefully blank expression of his. His long white nightgown is making me feel even more naked. My pyjama trousers are down near my ankles and my shirt is unbuttoned, but I don’t want to drop the sheet to deal with either.
“Being a good consort,” Dyfri says.
I shake my head at him in bewilderment.
“You were hard,” he adds as if that explains anything.
I suck in a deep breath. It does nothing to calm my raging heart. “You can’t do that! You can’t just grab people! Have you never heard of consent?”
Dark eyes stare back at me. Uncaring. Unremorseful.
I take another breath. “How would you feel if I did something to you without asking?”
Dyfri’s lip twitches. The beginning of a sneer. “You are my husband. It would be your right.”
My mouth opens. I close it again. Wait. What the hell did he just say?
“I would never!” I exclaim in horror.
He rolls his eyes and looks away. He makes a sound that is unmistakably a scoff.
My chest feels as if it has been punched. “Is that what you think of me?”
His dark eyes are back. Glaring now. “That’s what I think of everybody!”
There is vehemence in his words. Thick and coiling. I take a step back away from it.
“Why?” I blurt out helplessly.
He frowns, a deep downturning of his lips that doesn’t at all detract from his beauty. “Because they have proven it over and over again.”
My mind whirls. Thoughts spin. I drag my free hand through my hair in an effort to collect my thoughts. I just flipping woke up and I’m having to deal with this. Dyfri behaving abhorrently. Deeply inappropriately. So much so that my stomach is still twisting with it. Yet, his demeanour and words are pausing my outrage in its tracks. There is definitely a lot to untangle here.
“You can’t assault people before breakfast,” I say weakly. “Or at any time.” Surely I don’t have to explain this?
Dyfri slides off the bed with predatory grace. “I didn’t realise you found me so disgusting.”
What the fuck? “Dyfri, that’s not at all…”
“No need to explain further. I understand. I shall not touch you ever again.”
He turns and strides away, towards his bathroom. Shoulders rigid and fury in every line of his body.
My feet stumble towards him. I can’t let him go like this. I need to explain myself.
I reach for him, and the next thing I know, my back is against the wall and there is a wickedly sharp dagger at my throat.
My lungs freeze. Every single muscle in my body stops. My eyes lock onto his. Where the hell did that dagger come from? And how the hell does he move so fast? He really is a black cat and now he truly is showing me his claws.
“I think there has been a misunderstanding,” I say softly.
His eyes narrow, but the dagger moves away from my jugular. Only a fraction of an inch, but I call that progress. I don’t think he is going to kill me. Purely for diplomacy reasons if nothing else.
“I don’t think you’re disgusting,” I say. “I do think touching people without gaining their consent first is wrong.”
