Page 23 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

~ MELEK ~

“Don’t you turn your back on me ,” I snarled, my chest, already tight from the shock and arousal, now constricting against the fire of rage. “What the actual fuck?!”

She jerked a little, like she’d been able to roll over, but her shoulder must have hurt, because she hissed, then slowly leaned up on her good arm before pushing herself up to sit, then turning to face me, pulling that blanket around her.

Her chin was low and she looked up at me warily from between the black curtains of her hair. “I wasn’t turning my back, I was just—”

“How the fuck did you do that? You can just insert thoughts in my head? Just make me see things?”

“No! No… Melek, it wasn’t… Not like that. It was… I can form visions… show you things your mind would conjure, or-or that you want—”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I want!” I shoved out of the bath, heedless of the water splashing into the dirt and sliding down my body. “I didn’t want that! I didn’t ask for that! You’re lying!”

“No! I’m not!”

As I stalked towards her, Yilan’s eyes got wider, but her expression got fiercer too.

“Fucking Fetch and your fucking mind games. Is that why you’re here? To turn my head and—”

“No! I can’t put anything in your mind that you’re opposed to receiving!”

“Bull shit! I never wanted that!”

“Are you lying to yourself? Or to me?” she asked quietly, still keeping her chin low even though I now stood dripping at the bars, looming over her.

I was breathing heavily, arms at my sides, hands loose, but ready to grab for that fucking cage—for her!

But she just stared. I caught the little bob of her throat, but she didn’t look away.

“I cannot create false awareness,” she said warily. “I cannot make you see the real word as if it isn’t there. I can… show you things. But I cannot create your thoughts. Those are all yours.”

“Influenced by your mind-fuckery and—”

“All you have to do to stop me or any of my kind from… showing you anything is resist,” she said carefully. “If you don’t resist… well…” she shrugged, and a tiny light of amusement lit in her gaze.

I glared. “I don’t believe you.”

“I cannot enter your mind if you defend it, Melek,” she said blandly. “And even when I can, all you have to do is push the image away if you don’t want it.”

“So you say, but—”

“Try it,” she murmured.

I was about to open my mouth, to demand that she never again enter my head, when another image appeared there—an image of… me.

It was her memory. The moment I’d entered the King’s tent, striding into his presence then kneeling. And although I knew the memory was true—I remembered that moment, knew she was showing me the truth of what I’d done and what I’d said—the vision was… colored differently.

Breathless.

Awed.

Nervous.

“You can see that it’s from me. You know that. Push it away, Melek,” she said quietly.

But it took me a moment, because there was something I didn’t understand: An inkling in her memory of hope .

Was the memory colored by her own thoughts and feelings in that moment? Or was she merely trying to soften me so I wouldn’t be so angry?

I didn’t know, but I sucked in a deep breath, took hold of myself, and pushed the images away.

And sure enough… they were gone.

Vapor blown on the wind.

Relief coursed through me—but was immediately followed by suspicion. Had she only let go of the control so I’d believe I could make her do it?

“Fetch are not evil, Melek,” she whispered. “We are not puppet masters—not in that way. I can give you images, show you things. But you can deny it at any time. And the more opposed you are to receiving what I show you, the harder it is to make the connection at all. If you do not want me in your mind, simply decide so. Like holding your hands over your ears—my whispers will not penetrate.”

I rolled my jaw, considering her words.

They could be blatant lies. But I didn’t think so.

Over forty years on this earth and I had learned to trust the instincts God gave me. They’d led me through battle, helped me navigate tense political conflicts, even friendships…

Then I blinked and focused on her properly.

She was still sitting, holding her injured arm carefully, chin down and eyes up on me. There was no guile in her expression.

There was some fear.

“Why?” I asked her bluntly. “If… why would you do that? Was it truly simple gratitude? It seems an odd way to… thank me.”

She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to the floor. “I may have… overstepped,” she murmured, grimacing. “But you should know it… I could not… I would not have contact with your mind in that way if I did not trust your… restraint.”

Restraint. Of course. She’d been abused, threatened, on the cusp of violation and I had saved her.

It was a strange response, but not uncommon. I’d seen it in men on the battlefield—winners in the end, but having walked the line of death, it was as if every emotion, every drive were heightened.

Desire became need, and need became survival.

In the wake of battle, I had fallen into the arms of a woman more than once myself.

And those moments were nothing. A drive. A need to feel.

I stared at her, still unwilling to trust, but cautiously accepting that perhaps I understood what had just happened more than she did. And that understanding gave me compassion for what she had been through, but also left me a little… sad.

“I will not violate you, Yilan. I would kill you first.”

“I know,” she said simply.

I nodded. My anger beginning to pass, though my unease did not.

“Rest assured—for yourself and your men—that is not easily done. Fetch do not enter the minds of those without the gift easily. We must be close, and as I said, all it takes is your resistance.”

“But if you seduce, or intrigue, or anything when their defenses are down…”

She nodded once. “It is a tool. But not flawless. And it… drains me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then why? Why for such a…a flippant purpose, if it wasn’t an attempt to draw me into deception?”

Her expression was strange, half-frown, half-fear. As if her thoughts turned inward in alarm. And when she answered, I was once again left stunned.

“I was curious,” she said, squirming slightly, not meeting my eyes. “And I did have a desire to give you… something for your help.”

“That is not the kind of thanking I need,” I growled.

“I know. Which is why it was easy to gift it,” she said simply.

And what was I supposed to say to that?