Until I am placed on my feet beside the fur-covered bed.
I flinch as the door clicks shut, a very naked man standing behind me.
42
Lina
"Iwill need to stay here tonight.” His voice is surprisingly tender. “They will be watching.”
velvety fabric tickles my shoulders. I blink and touch the cloth. A towel. He’s giving me a towel.
Like a little rabbit, jolted into action I tighten it around me and rush into the corner of the room, but when my eyes meet his, I find his palms are out to me in a symbol of peace. His eyes are soft and… concerned?
“I will not touch you in any way you do not want.”
I did not want any touching, I don’t say. But then, I think of the girl’s instruction. Could I truly be his weakness? Could I make him want me?
“Unless it will save your life,” he adds, eyes cast to the floor. “I know you do not desire me. That’s not what any of this is.”
“Then, what?” I spit out. “What is it, then?”
He pulls in a long breath through his nose. My eyes flash down to where they absolutely should not be then back up. He is no longer erect.
If he noticed my attention on his private bits, he doesn’t react.
“Something beyond your understanding.”
I grimace. Does he think I’m dumb? A stupid village girl with no thoughts outside survival? I do admit I haven’t shown much more than fear, especially around him, but it still scrapes against my heart uncomfortably.
Do I want him to appreciate me?Strange thought.
“If there is something you need, beyond what you are given, tell me. I know you do not trust me. Our fates are locked together in ways neither of us desire. But our choice is to accept it or succumb to the darkness.”
He just admitted he does not want me.
When I don’t move from my spot cowering in the corner, he begins rummaging in the baskets on the edge of the room.
“What is all of that?” I ask for the first time. I’ve rarely had the chance to talk to my Dread. I’m living in his room, alone, among his things. Sleeping in his bed.
But he is never here.
He slips on a pair of pants, and my cheeks redden. I don’t even know what’s happening to my own body right now.
“Clothes,” he mutters, giving the obvious answer.
“Not all of it.”
“No. Not all of it.” He pulls on a tunic.
“What are the trinkets?” There are at least a hundred different, seemingly random items. Books and jewelry, a ball, a drawing. A pink sock. A ribbon. a stuffed animal. A thimble. And so much more. I haven’t sorted through all of it.
“They’re…mementos.”
I frown. “Of your life?” I ask, thinking of the ribbon and tiny sock. Did he have a child? A sister?
“No. They do not belong to me.”
Then…
