He reached towards her, and she went stiff. He didn’t touch her face; instead, his fingers slid along the nape of her neck, finding the dip of her skull.
She looked up then, but there was no emotion on his face. He could have been marble.
“I don’t trust you to be conscious right now,” he said.
She felt his resonance, delicate as the prick of a needle.
Heaviness swept through her like a black tidal wave, dragging her down.
“No…” she choked out, not sure what she was protesting. Everything.
But the world slipped from her grasp. She was dimly aware of her legs being lifted onto the bed, the duvet pulled over her.
“I’m so sorry.”
It was a struggle to wake again.The room was dim and heavy, Helena’s vision sluggish and disoriented. It felt as if she had been unconscious for a long time.
