I stiffen. She tried to escapetoday? My gaze flicks to the door behind me. Thank the gods I had the foresight to ward it. The balcony is warded as well. Even if she had attempted to climb down the castle’s stone walls, she would never have made it past the railing.
Please don’t let him hurt me.
“I’m not going to hurt you!” The words tear from my throat, louder than I intend, nearer to a shout than reassurance.
She startles violently, flinching back as the color drains from her face.
“How did you…” she whispers, her voice trembling. “How did you know what I was thinking?” Dread shadows her eyes.
A low growl rumbles in my chest before I can stop it. I drop my hands to my sides. Turning away from her, I rake a hand through my hair and draw a steadying breath.
I shouldn’t tell her. If she knows I can sometimes hear her thoughts, it will only deepen her terror. She will see it as yet another cage. Another reason to run. And this time, she will be far more desperate.
Her eyes widen, and she sinks down on the nearest chair, clutching the armrest until her knuckles go white. “No, no, no,” she whispers. “It cannot be.”Why am I suddenly hearinghisvoice inmyhead? Is this related to the strange visions I’ve been having? Oh, gods, I must stop thinking. I must quiet my mind. He knew that I feared he was about to hurt me. That means he can hear my thoughts too! Oh, please don’t let it be true.
I exhale a long breath and slowly walk toward her. She watches me with wary eyes but makes no move to flee. Her slender throat moves as she swallows hard, her gaze bright with unshed tears. I sense her utter disbelief, her confusion.
I kneel before her, pry her hands from the armrests, and lace my fingers through hers. A faint tremor passes through her, but the sharpness of her fear has receded.
“It would seem, darling human,” I say carefully, striving for a calm voice, “that we can hear one another’s thoughts.”
CHAPTER 17
HELENA
I stareinto King Theron’s eyes, feeling utterly lost. Confusion spreads through me, followed swiftly by a wave of dread, stealing the air from my lungs. His gaze is too intent, tooknowing, like he’s listening even now, straining to catch the words I would never dare speak aloud, the private thoughts I am desperate to keep secret.
Does he know I tried to escape?
Does he know the unkind thoughts I had when he entered the room?
As I replay those moments in my mind, my dread deepens. Oh, gods. He must knoweverything. Every harsh word. Every uncharitable thought. Not that he doesn’t deserve some of my judgment… but still.
I wince inwardly. Why can’t I stopthinking? The harder I try to empty my mind, the more unruly my thoughts become, colliding, spiraling, echoing too loudly, each one a declaration I can’t take back.
What about my unwanted attraction to him? Does he know aboutthattoo? Heat rushes to my face as I remember all the times warmth pooled low in my belly when he caressed my hair, touched my cheek, or held me close.
I squeeze my eyes shut, as though I can will those thoughts out of existence. As though closing my eyes might somehow erase them before he hears them too. How humiliating. I don’t want him to know I’m drawn to him. I don’t want him to know how breathless I become when he merely looks at me, how his presence unsettles me, and how his winter-cold scent lingers in my senses long after he steps away.
“Look at me, darling human.” His voice is gentle yet filled with command.
I tremble as he cups my face. At last, I open my eyes.
His gaze is as intent and knowing as ever.
My heart races faster, and warmth quakes through me, a blissful wave of desire I cannot stop. Shame heats my face anew, and my throat tightens with emotion. It’s bad enough that I’m his captive. He has no plans to release me, ever. And the prospect of not only being trapped with him but also unable to hide my most private thoughts is almost too much. How will I endure such a fate?
His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, and I sense his mutual excitement.
You smell delicious, Helena, he says down the unwanted tether that connects us.That slickness between your thighs… gods, how I long to taste you. How I long to pleasure you and make you climax as you cry out my name. A lusty growl reverberates in my head.
“No, no, no.” I shake my head. “This can’t be happening. Make it stop! Stop listening to my thoughts, and stop letting me hear yours!” I don’t want this. I really don’t.
Panic skitters through me, a cold coiling sensation in my gut. I’m not sure I can bear to keep sharing this kind of intimate connection with the fae king who is my enemy.
“I must admit that I have no idea how this is happening, darling human, but it is. Perhaps the gods have a sense of humor.” His eyes twinkle, and it bothers me that he isn’t as disturbed by the events that are unfolding as I am. I sense his confusion, but I also sense his excitement andhopefulness.
Why would our ability to hear one another’s thoughts bring him feelings of hope?
