He was right only because he hadn’t told me what I really wanted to know.
“Why would you care if I detonated? I mean, why not just kill me? I’m a danger to you, to everyone. Why help me?” I should be dead. A buried abomination. Destroyed. Not feeling centered within my myriad of power. Not entertaining mate-bonds to three male fae.
None of this made any sense.
He sighed, released my chin, and turned toward one of his dressers. I waited for a reply as he opened a drawer. Continued to wait as he opened a second. Then arched a brow when he turned around to hand me a pair of boxers and a shirt.
“I don’t want clothes. I want answers.”
His gaze slid downward, heat flaring in his pupils. “Well, that’s up to you,
but I have to admit my focus is a little distracted with you wearing nothing in my room. Particularly after two months of foreplay in our dreams.”
Ugh! I’d forgotten I was naked, my attention divided between my fate and my confusion over what just happened outside. “How did I lose all my clothes?” I’d run out of my room with pants and a shirt on. No shoes. But I had no idea how—
“You destroyed them when you blew up out in the field.”
I blinked. “Blew up?”
“You went up in flames, Aflora.” He dropped the shirt and boxers beside me. “Bright cerulean flames, I might add, and you destroyed the entire clearing. I’d be impressed if you hadn’t nearly killed me and Zeph in the process.”
My eyebrows flew upward. “What?”
He studied me for a long moment, his icy blue irises thinning as his pupils dilated. “There’s too much power inside you, little rose. It required a release, only your explosion wasn’t enough and you were gearing up for a larger one. So we reacted accordingly.”
By biting me, I translated.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why does there need to be a reason?”
“Because I should be dead, Shade!” I snapped, irritated by his continued evasiveness. This hot and cold game with him needed to end. “Just tell me why this is happening. Why did you bite me? Who put you up to this? What’s your—”
His lips captured mine, just as they always did at this point in our dreams.
I refrained from biting him, aware of what that would do.
And instead dug my nails into his neck, deep enough to draw blood.
He flinched and encircled my throat with his palm, pushing me down to his bed. “Is that how you want to play, Aflora?”
“I’m tired of playing,” I told him, my voice holding a low growl in it. “I want information, Shade. No more of these half answers.”
“A half answer implies I’ve given you at least a partial response, which I mostly haven’t.”
“Exactly,” I said, exasperated.
He used his grasp on my neck to pull me up the bed until my head met a pillow. He settled beside me, balancing himself on his elbow while his opposite palm remained around my throat.
“How do you feel?” he asked in the softest voice imaginable, his warm game on point once more.
“Irritated. Angry. Murderous.”
His lips curled, but only slightly. “How about physically? Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”
“Only my brain,” I muttered. “What with all the cryptic responses and everything.”
His amusement disappeared behind a mask of mild annoyance. “I mean it, Aflora. You went up in literal flames. I thought you were going to burn to ash beneath that wave of power.” He almost sounded sad by the prospect, but I knew better than to believe his tone. “Tell me how you’re feeling. Please.”