“Actually,” he said smoothly, “you lack all senses.”
I tightened my grip on the cup, glaring at him, briefly imagining the satisfaction of throwing it at his forehead hard enough to draw blood. The silence stretched, filled only by the roar of rain and thunder against the windows.
He was still watching me, unblinking, like I was an equation he couldn’t solve. And he was not even trying to hide the fact that he was burning holes in my skin with those dark eyes that I, for some stupid reasons, couldn’t stare into for too long.
I drained the rest of my tea and lowered the cup, anything to slice through the tension swallowing the room apart. “How did you know where I was?”
“You’re more predictable than you think.” He shifted on his seat. “Are you hurting anywhere?”
I pushed the throb in my back, the splitting ache behind my eyes, and the fire in my joints behind a sweet smile. “Ouuu, what would you do if I was?” His eyes sharpened, piercing mine with an unsettling stare. I rolled my eyes. “No, I’m perfectly fine.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“Why?”
“I can’t sense your physical pain,” he said so fast, he probably didn’t realise he slipped up until he was done.
My brows pulled together. “Can you sense emotional pain?” My eyes widened, heart skipping. “Wait. Oh shit. Can you read minds?”
“No,” he said flatly, shutting that door before my panic could open it.
“Oh.” I let out a breath. But I could feel his expectation pressing in, waiting for me to confess what hurt. So I pivoted. “The thing said something,” I offered instead, my body shivering involuntarily just thinking about the creepy voice.
He leaned forward, arms unfolding, brows narrowing. “What did it say?”
“It said something about dying. Someone wants to kill me.”
His expression changed instantly. “Was that what it said? Word for word?”
I wracked my memory, heart skittering again. “‘She wants to kill you. She’d rather have you die.’ That’s what it said.”
Thrax shot up from his seat like a fire had erupted under him, startling me. His jaw clenched tight, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Veins corded up his arms and twisted along his neck like blackvines straining under pressure. His entire body tensed, vibrating with contained fury.
I pushed the blanket off and stood, heart pounding again as my back protested in pain. “Was it really talking to me? Is asheafter me? Who wants to kill me?”
Too many questions. Not enough answers. Too many questions. Too many questions.
I stepped closer, close enough to make him look at me. “Answer me. What was that thing? Why did it lure me out? Am I a target—”
“Calm down.” His hands came up, resting on my shoulders, his touch steady and grounding. “It was just a messenger. You’re not anyone’s target.”
“A messenger—here?Around The Crater?” I shook my head. “Then the message was for me. Why would—”
“It has nothing to do with you,” he said too quickly.
If I didn’t know better, I’d have believed him. But that thing tried to kill me. If it was a messenger, what did that say about who sent it? How many more would theshesend, and what would the next one look like?
I gripped his shirt. “Please. Tell me the truth.”
He pried my hands off, voice tight. “Go to sleep. It’s almost daybreak.”
“Not until you tell me first.”
His hands suddenly rose, rough palms cradling my face. Too gentle for how angry he still looked, too warm for something that ended an unnamed creature with a dagger an hour ago.
He searched my eyes with such fierce intensity I couldn’t look away. “It has nothing to do with you,” he said again, the words bitten out like he hated them. “You’re safe here. Is that clear?”
I stared up at him.
