Page 51 of Brutal Fae King
“N-no. I’m fine.”
He doesn’t say anymore, but he looks down at me. Those lips pull up in another smile and sensation flickers across my own lips—that stubble on his jaw, scraping deliciously against my lips as I-
There’s another spark from under the covers. He chuckles lightly and removes the cloth from my forehead. I close my eyes for a moment.
Concentrate. Control the powers.
I change the subject as a way to distract myself.
“Why are you here?”
“What do you mean?” Vicmar asks, wringing the cloth out.
“I mean… why are you here instead of the castle staff?” I ask. “A king doesn’t have to do this.”
“Perhaps,” Vicmar says, dropping the cloth back into the bucket. “But a husband has to when his wife’s sick.”
He leans a hand forward and presses his bare palm against my forehead. My stomach flicks at the contact, and there’s another spark under the covers. Vicmar notices again and chuckles for a moment before the hand on my forehead moves to the side of my face.
I catch my breath. Another spark scatters under the duvet.
“Well, your fever seems to be gone,” he says. “You were burning up a short while ago, but now, you seem to be much better…”
He keeps his hand on my face, so gently…
“Th-thank you,” I answer, struggling to fight down the feeling boiling in my stomach.
Vicmar smiles.
“It’s fine. I’m just pleased that you’re better,” he purrs, then looks down for a moment before he says. “I don’t know how much you remember before you lost consciousness, but I am sorry for how I’ve been treating you whilst I was suspicious of your motives.”
Vicmar sits closer to me. I’m tingling, so very aware of his hand on my face still.
“You can be happy here—and to apologize, and as your husband, I will make sure youwillbe happy here.”
Is this the same man who was acting so cruelly earlier?
“Why are you being so kind?” I breathe.
Vicmar gives me the saddest smile.
“You said that you couldn’t remember the last time you were happy because you were too busy taking care of your sister,” he murmurs. “I have never understood anything more.”
I don’t answer at first. It takes me a moment to try and put my thoughts into words.
“I didn’t know you… were compassionate like that.”
It feels so very insufficient, but he smiles and answers:
“I feel I am,” he says. “Or was… I doubt anyone remembers when I was the nice king… But it was a fool’s route, theniceroute. The compassionate one. It left more people dead and suffering than I ever wanted… Sometimes, I can’t believe I act like such a jaded monster, but other times, it doesn’t surprise me at all what it’s made me.”
My stomach gives another flutter. I swallow hard.
“I… don’t think you’re a monster,” I murmur.
His eyes soften. His lips part. His own hand presses a little harder on my face.
A flicker of pleasure crashes through me. Another spark crashes through me—and out into the air. Vicmar flinches. His fingers clench on my cheek as he jumps.
