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I glance at him again, whispering, “You know about his sleepwalking?”

She nods urgently. “All of the staff has been apprised. He’s not allowed to get to you when he’s like this. We should lock ourselves inside and call the King.”

The thought of Ashby coming in here to save me from his son makes me recoil in a way I’m not expecting. “He’s my Prince. What’s he going to do to me that hasn’t already been done?” This is easier than the actual explanation, which is that Lex isn’t like Wicker or Pace, who are aggressive and physical creatures. Lex is a storm cloud. There may be rain, lightning, and thunder, but there’s no collision there.

Ignoring her frantic protest, I step out of the bedroom, approaching him slowly. That’s what we did with Kathleen when she was sleepwalking. Easy. Quiet. Coaxing. She was as pliable as clay when we led her back to bed.

His back is broader than it looks beneath his nice, pressed shirts, but the closer I get, the moreoffit looks. Weirdly textured. At first, I think it’s just a trick of the light, the fireplace creating shadows in places they’re not meant to be.

But it’s not an illusion.

When I realize what I’m seeing, it makes me freeze.

Scars. There are dozens of them criss-crossed over his back like grisly lattice-work. Some are thicker than others, the skin pulled tight around the raised, pale edges. Those look gnarled, like roots beneath his skin, but the smaller ones are just as disconcerting, the slashes thin but long.

My throat clicks with a swallow, and from my periphery, I see his hand twitch. “Lex?” I whisper, barely a breath.

But he doesn’t answer.

Not until I reach out with a slow, hesitant hand, brushing trembling fingers against the ridges of his mangled skin. “Lex? Let’s get you back to bed.”

There’s a moment where I’m sure we’ve got it all wrong. Lex is awake. He must be, because when he finally turns around to look at me, the movement is so fluid–so normal–that it doesn’t remind me of Kathleen at all.

His eyes are a different story.

They’re hooded blots of shadow, his nose flaring with a long, sharp inhale.

I barely see him move, his arm snapping upward with such haste that it could happen between blinks. Cold fingers clutch my throat, but before I can react, I’m flying, my back slamming into the mattress. I’m not sure what to grab for first, his wrist or the blankets, but it doesn’t really matter.

He’s on me in a flash, hair swaying wildly above me as he plants a knee on my thigh, pinning me down.

I slap at his arm, trying desperately to gasp in a breath as his vacant eyes fix sightlessly to my chest. There’s anger in his movements as he reaches between us, shoving down his boxer briefs, but I don’t understand it. The way his mouth pulls back into a snarl, showing his teeth, is more of a mystery to me than the hand squeezing my throat, and that’s what I think about as he pulls his hard, thick cock from his underwear. His feral eyes are more gold than amber.

“Mine,” he says through gritted teeth, the sound of his voice guttural and slurred–inhuman. I kick out, catching his knee, but that just makes his grip on my throat tighten. Shoving with his hips, he gets between my thighs, jamming his cock into my center.

But the tip meets my panties. The futility of the thrust brings me back to the comment I'd made to Wicker about stupid Kathleen and herstupid, innocent sleepwalks.

“She kept trying to shove a pencil in the slot…”

He gives it another shove, growling as he meets resistance, and then there’s acrack.

Jolting upright, he stumbles back, hand clutching his head. “Fuck!”

Stella stands behind him, breathing heavy, the poker from the fireplace tight in her grip. “Go, Princess!”

I scramble off the bed, gulping in air as I run for the door–but not before grabbing Stella. We take off, skidding as we run into the hall. Glancing back, I see movement from my bedroom, Lex’s shadow cast against the floor. “Get to safety,” I tell her. “Go hide. Find Danner. Just get the fuck out!”

“What about you?” She hops on her feet, anxious, eyes darting as his shadow grows bigger.

“I know where to hide.”

She runs, and I race to the spot that I know leads to the passageway. If I get in, I can hide, at least until he wakes up or one of the guys stops him.

The thud of footsteps behind me sends a chill of terror up my spine. What if I can’t find it? What will he do with me? I blink away that blank, feral look I’d seen in his eye.

A door to my left swings open, and a hand shoots out, dragging me inside.

I’m still breathing heavily when I hear the lock engage. I look up, heart thudding wildly in my chest. “Pace, oh my god.”