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Salas smiled with false sweetness. “Are you trying to have me repeat what I have already told you? Do you enjoy the sound of those words?I want to please you. I want to be good for you. So good—”
“That is not what I meant,” Jareth cut him off swiftly, audibly grinding his teeth with his own frustration. Salas wouldn’t have been surprised if his mouth were full of sharp canines by now. “Do you want me?”
Salas sat up immediately, feeling a spring in his spine as his body filled with relief. So this was what the King had been worried about! “Yes! Yes, yes. I want you. I want to make you—”
“No!” The King nearly roared, swiping the pillow off the bed in a viscous tear. The action didn’t scare Salas, as he was so seething as well in his own frustration. “No, Salas. I need you to separate the two. My wants and your wants.” His eyes continued to bore into Salas with that familiar searching look he was beginning to recognize.
“I already told you what I want!”
The King sighed, long and heavy, his gaze drifting to the ceiling, as though to find answers in the rafters. “This is impossible. You are impossible.”
Salas didn’t respond this time, just blinked at the man.
Jareth’s eyes snapped to Salas once more, alight with a new idea. “Do you feel desire towards me? Your body.”
“Ah! Yes! Yes!” Salas nodded enthusiastically. “I can be oh-so responsive. Warm and tight—”
The King suddenly shot out a hand and clamped it over Salas’ mouth, cutting off his speech momentarily. “You want me,” he clarified, “only because you are responding to my wants. My needs. You would not want me on your own.”
Salas groaned as the hand dropped from his face, confused once more.
“Would you want me if I did not want you?” The King continued on, and Salas felt a headache at this pointless line of questioning.
“I would still want the same things as I do now.”
“To please me.”
“Yes! Yes—”
“How would you feel if I were to turn you away?”
Salas frowned, imagining the scenario, though rejection from this man seemed to be a recurring event, so it was not too difficult to fathom. “Frustrated. I would…try to be something you want me to be. Is that it? You do not like me as I am? I can be whatever you want me to be. Be whatever, whoever—”
“Salas, stop.”
Salas blinked and looked away, deflation piercing through him, its arrow sharp enough to allow his stores of hope to leak out of him. With another blink, his eyes were wet. “I do not understand,” he said finally.
“And I will not touch you until you do understand.” Jareth was firm.
“You shall, and will forever be, incredibly stupid.”
“Your Grace, is your new bird simple?”
Salas suddenly shot up from bed, rage making his blood run molten as a red haze clouded his vision. “There will be nounderstanding,” he spat, spitting the last word like it were a poisoned apple seed that had been stuck in his teeth. “You killed the only man who ever helped me tounderstandanything!”
With that he turned, leaving the shocked King still sitting on his bed, calling after him as he fled to the washroom, where he curled into the tub and wept.
Chapter Twelve
From the bedroom, Jareth waited for the sobs in the room over to quiet, his regret festering. His body was still and tense as he tried to keep himself from pacing.
He had never felt this way about a someone before. This consistent press to care, to anguish with concern, to drag Salas back into his arms andnever let go.
This energy had never lived with any other, certainly not with Victoria. It continued to grow, this tenderness he felt towards Salas. And in times like these, it erupted like a predator in the most viscous of ways, despite being a thing of soft nature.
Right now, it made him hate his own actions.
“And I will not touch you until you do understand.”
