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How was I supposed to ignore that, or pretend I hated him for it?
Another, harder knock echoed into the room. “Akari?” Espen’s voice was strong, and sure, and edged with worry.
“Sleeping,” I called back, not ready to face him after the immense weight of the day and the realizations I’d had.
“I smell tears in the hallway, so wake up for a minute,” he countered, his voice a bit growly.
Damn my emotions and their refusal to be controlled.
Clenching my fist around the knife, I stalked toward the door, ready to unleash hell on the man in the doorway. I wasn’t mad at him in the slightest, but I was overwhelmed, and I felt like I needed to rage at someone.
Ripping the door open, I snarled at him, “You don’t get to tell me to wake up, Night King. I’m not a damned prisoner, remember? Or have you already forgotten how much effort you put into proving that to me earlier today?”
His eyes trailed down my body, and then back up.
The pause while I waited for his response only heated my fury even more.
“You look absolutely fucking delicious holding that knife,” Espen finally said, his voice low and gravelly.
The words stunned me and evaporated my anger at the same time.
“What?” I managed.
His hand lifted to my face, and cradled my cheek. I didn’t lean away, or move at all.
“How did you smell my tears?” I changed the subject, quickly. “Not that I was crying. I wasn’t.”
“The throne’s magic strengthens its holder in many ways.” His thumb dragged over the skin just below my eye. I didn’t know why it was a turn on, but damn did I shudder. “What’s wrong?”
“I told you, I wasn’t crying,” I whispered.
My body was heating though, and my heartbeat picking up.
“Did someone hurt you?” His voice grew dangerously low.
“We were together the whole time, Espen. I think you would’ve noticed if someone hurt me.” I pushed his hand off of my face, though my chest ached when I did so. “I just want to sleep.”
“I’m not leaving without an honest answer.” The king didn’t growl that time, but there was no mistaking the complete and utter honesty in his voice.
I wasn’t going to get rid of him without the truth, or some version of it.
“Diora hugged me. We’d never hugged before, and it reminded me of my family. I miss them, and haven’t been hugged in a long time.” I gestured toward the door, trying not to give him time to react to that answer. “Now, you can go.”
He stepped inside instead.
The door didn’t close behind him. Maybe he realized that it might trigger me in some way if he stepped inside after I told him to leave, and then shut the door behind himself.
If he did realize that, he probably would’ve been right.
But the door remained open, and our gazes remained locked.
“May I?” He gestured toward me, the movement a bit harsh.
“May you what?” I was being purposefully obtuse, because my whole fucking body ached at the thought that he was asking if he could hug me.
If he could hold me.
If he could make me feel, just for one minute, that everything was going to be okay.
