Then I locked my door.
If those guards wanted him for another day, they had to break it down and I was pretty sure it came against my privacy policy recently implemented by PDD. I couldn’t do much for Galenor, I didn’t even know why I was on his side in the first place, but it was the least I could offer him. A full night of rest.
Before I had a chance to lose my nerve, I knocked on the door and, without giving him a chance to reply, I opened it to shove his belongings inside, while battling a deep wave of steam.
“You’re sleeping here tonight,” I announced, sealing the door shut behind me.
I didn’t know if he slept well last night, but I surely didn’t. Not until the early hours of the morning. I kept my ears peeled to the bathroom door, terrified of what I’d done. Of the decision I had suddenly made, which could not only affect my assignment, but also put me in danger.
What in gods’ name had I been thinking, locking myself in with a fae male? Sure enough, the male looked to be more dead than alive last time I saw him, and I didn’t even want to think how long it would take me to clean all that blood from the bathroom.
But what if the guards arrived? What if I’d broken rules I did not know about by trying to keep him away from an important interrogation?
And what if you did, Ellyana? Are you willing to let them kill Galenor?My empathic self burst the question to life.
No, I wasn’t.
I didn’t want to think about the effect Galenor had on me. Of how, even last night, even bloodied and miserable, he had raised desire with just a breath, with that damned voice of his that seemed to draw shivers and pebble my skin every time it sounded through the room. It did not seem to matter the situation he was in or whether he was kind or snarky, the mere sound of his voice made me want to abandon everything and fall to his will.
And I had locked myself in a room with him.
At some point, exhaustion must have caught up with me, approximately at the same time Galenor stopped making noises from the bathroom, sleep blanketing the both of us. I did not dream, falling prey to the fatigue and worry I had suffered during the day.
Pressure yanked against my shoulder blade, making me turn in bed and cover my bare skin for involuntary protection. Only to return again, this time with a double press against my shoulder, then once more into my arm.
I groaned, annoyed that something was poking at me when I finally fell asleep.
Another prod, this time accompanied by a fingernail pressing into my skin and a…pinch?
What in the hell?
I snapped awake, turning towards whatever it was that dared bother me.
“I’m hungry,” Galenor fanned his lashes at me, eyes twinkling with fresh energy.
My own eyes flew open, realising that the fae sat on the edge of the bed, towering over me. In my room.
“What? What are you doing here?” I protested, pulling the bedsheet over me in a poor attempt to cover my skin, to get away from that closeness and the sensation of him.
“I already told you,” he spoke to me, yet again, as if I were an idiot. “I’m hungry.” His lashes narrowed in on me, head tilting slightly to the side. “Is your mental capacity affected in some way?” he asked, intrigued.
“Wow, you had to start with that one, huh?” My brows wrinkled in annoyance, my arms instantly folding in anger.
“Forgive me for checking muffin, there seems to be no other explanation. Why else would you keep me away from food then show surprise when I demand it?”
“Galenor, I don’t know if you get this a lot or not…” I scanned his face, his interest in what he must have assumed would be a compliment, “but you are a prick.”
“I do get that a lot,” he nodded, a sly smile curving along his lips, my observation clearly not bothering him. “Now…food?” he repeated, gulping down air for emphasis.
Without another word, I stood from bed and walked to the door to turn the key, wondering why the heck did Galenor feel the need to wake me up rather than letting himself out. When my fingers wrapped around the metal key, I learned the answer.
Of course, the key was made of iron. Thus, making it impossible for Galenor to touch. Well, not impossible, but really, really painful, something I assumed he wouldn't go for again after the days he had. Weeks, rather.
Great, so not only was he thinking I kept food from him, but that I’d also locked him in.
He didn’t say any of it though, conforming himself with bursting out the door as soon as I opened it without even a thank you or an acknowledgement. Okay, then…
Terrified of the state of the bathroom, I took a deep breath before turning the handle to push the door open, to find everything sparkling clean. No traces of blood, no clots in the shower, no remains of vomit in the toilet.
