He halts in his tracks and turns to face me. The door shuts behind him, and the snow flurries drift to the stone floor. He stares at me with an expectant look.
“It was Peter. My former brother-in-law. The man Prince Alaric killed in the street before he… before he brought me to you.” I try to push the sleeves of my nightdress down, but my hands are trembling so hard, it’s difficult, and I soon give up and just clutch the thick robe around myself. It’s not that I’m cold and trying to get warm. It’s that I feel too exposed, and my instincts are screaming for me to hide, to protect myself from being vulnerable in front of the king.
It’s unnerving enough when he looks at me with affection, or when he gazes at me with lust blazing in his eyes as his pants grow tight. But the revenge he wants to seek on my behalf is a frightening development indeed. I try not to think about what it might mean.
The king returns to my side and sinks down on the sofa next to me. His eyes gleam with tenderness as he reaches for my hands, gently prying my fingers from the robe, allowing the garment to fall and exposing my bruised upper arms.
“Hold still, darling human.” His deep voice reverberates through me.
I gulp past the burning in my throat and obey, my mind spinning at his nearness and at the gentleness he’s showing me, as well as the utter concern. He conquered my people, and I’m considered his prisoner. Yet he’s treating me with deference. Though he’s spoken to me sternly a few times, he hasn’t hurt me. Instead, he’s seen to my comfort repeatedly. First, with the fire, then with the bath and the luxurious robe. And let’s not forget the human-friendly meal he’d arranged.
I watch, awestruck, as he holds his hands over my right upper arm while bright blue light gathers in his palms. Gradually, the pain in my right arm fades… along with the bruises. I gasp and meet King Theron’s eyes.
“How are you doing that?” I whisper.Why are you doing that?I’m his captive. He’s fae and I’m human, so we’re practically sworn enemies. Yet he’s healing me.
“Winter magic,” he says, leaning closer, so close his peppermint breath wafts against my cheek, prompting goosebumps on my arms.
He soon moves on to my left arm, holding his palms over the bruised area as vibrant blue light swirls forth. My flesh tingles a bit as the bruises fade, but it doesn’t hurt. The pain only keeps fading.
“Winter magic,” I eventually repeat, and I turn my head to look directly at him. My heart beats faster, and the goosebumps he’s eliciting feel wondrous. Excitement skitters through me, waves of cold and heat. The heat settles between my thighs where it pulses and aches, making me want to squirm. But I don’t dare move. I scarcely dare to blink or even take a breath.
As he holds my gaze, he carefully pulls the sleeves of my nightdress down to my wrists, his touches slow and almost sensual. And gentle. So gentle. His eyes continue to reflect theflames. For a long moment, the only sound that can be heard is the steady crackling of the fire. Time seems to stop, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about kissing me.
“Are you injured anywhere else, Helena?”
I exhale quickly, then a shaky breath fills my lungs. I still haven’t looked away from him, and our faces are so close, our lips mere inches apart.
“No,” I finally reply. “It was just my arms. Thank you, King Theron. Thank you for healing me. It was very kind of you.”
He draws back slightly, his eyes briefly dancing with amusement.
“Kind? Yes, I suppose it was very kind of me. As I am sure you are aware, I am known across the realm for my benevolence.”
He smiles, revealing his sharp, pointed white teeth. Teeth that could inflict deep gashes in my flesh, yet I’m starting to fear him less, even though everything about him is deadly and fierce.
I find myself returning his smile. “Have you ever healed one of your captives before?”
“Only to prevent their imminent death so I could continue torturing them for information.” He reaches for my hair and tucks an errant strand behind my ear, and his touch lingers even once he’s tamed the rogue lock. He trails his fingers up and down my neck, causing more goosebumps to erupt on my arms.
I take a moment to consider his words, and I can very easily imagine him healing an opponent just so he could bring them back from the brink of death and torture them for all their secrets. A shiver passes through me, but I cannot claim it’s borne of fear. Rather, it’s borne of excitement, the knowledge that even though he’ll behave like an utter brute to others, thus far, he hasn’t revealed that side of himself to me. Not truly. I pray I’ll never see it.
“It’s getting late. Will you come join me in bed, Helena?” His fingers continue trailing up and down my neck. “Or must I toss you over my shoulder and carry you?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would.” He smirks, and damn him, but it’s a seductive smirk that somehow serves to make him appear more handsome.
The heat quaking between my thighs becomes stronger, and it’s all I can do to keep from whimpering, or moaning. I don’t want to join him in the bed. I want to run out of his room and put as much space between us as possible. I want to keep running and never look back.
I want to escape.
“Well?” His wicked smirk remains in place. “Shall I toss you over my shoulder while you thrash around and scream and make a dramatic scene, or will you be… obedient?”
Surely, he’s mocking me. In fact, I think he’s trying to piss me off. I think he wants an excuse to carry me to the bed, an excuse to put his hands on me in a somewhat forceful manner, even if he truly won’t hurt me.
I quickly decide that I won’t allow him the pleasure. So, I rise to my feet, slip my arms into the robe, and nod at the bed. “After you, Your Highness.”
CHAPTER 12
