“You’ve taken away the pain. I am okay. Just…dazed.”
“Okay.” I rested my forearms on my knees as I looked down at him. He didn’t make a move to rise. “Do you…” I bit my lip. “Should I help you up, or…”
He struggled to his side before pushing up onto his knees. “Was that punishment for using the hairy shifter in your training?”
I grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. “No. I was just distracted and didn’t hear you creeping closer.”
“Why use ears? You can feel me.”
“Oh no—I could’ve sworn I told you, sorry. I usually block the links to give us all some privacy.”
He braced his hands on his lower back and arched back, trying to stretch it out even though he couldn’t feel the pain anymore. It gave me a little validation for my reaction to the stab wound.
“You’ve said you block it, yes.” He nodded, dropping his arms. “But since it has never been blocked, I assumed I was still on trial.”
I blinked at him for a moment. “What do you mean it isn’t blocked? I’m blocking it right now. You shouldn’t be able to feel my presence or emotions or anything. I can’t feel yours…”
His dark eyebrows drew in. “I can still feel your presence and…confusion.”
I blinked at him. He stared at me.
I pulled the block away, his confusion and wariness immediately rushing in. “Is that any different?” I asked.
“Is what any different?”
Frustration boiled within me, and his wariness grew.
“You feel my emotions all the time?” I demanded.
He stiffened, and I could sense his anxiety through the link. He was stopping himself from stepping backward in the face of my anger. “Yes.”
“Do you always feel it at the same strength? The feelings through the link never dim or anything?”
“I can’t feel emotions when you’re asleep, just your location or proximity. When you startle awake, it wakes me.”
The heat drained from my face. “What about when…” I cleared my throat. “What about after I go to bed, but before I actually go to sleep. Like…late at night…”
“When you pleasure yourself? Yes, I feel that.”
I could do nothing but stare. In mute horror.
Whatever he felt through the link got the words flowing.
“At first that confused me,” he said, “since you did not express interest in bedding me. Then I thought maybe you were trying to pleasure me through the link. Only, it was just the feeling of pleasure and not actual pleasure, if that makes sense?” My expression clearly insinuated that it didn’t. “I could sense you were feeling pleasure, but it wasn’t directly manifesting into my pleasure. So I finally realized the link was like a two-way radio, and each person controlled the volume from their side.”
This was the most he’d ever talked in my presence. He rarely said a couple of sentences jammed together, let alone a whole paragraph. This wasn’t the subject I’d have chosen for him to find his voice.
“Please tell me you started turning the radio down during those times?” I whispered.
Wariness crowded the link now, so heavy that I felt like I was drowning in it.
“I didn’t know I should,” he responded. “Gargoyles are sexual beings. We share it freely. I thought…”
His words ceased at the shaking of my head, at the continued horror that was surely on my face. Not that he’d need the cue. He could apparently feel it.
I turned and headed for the house, my mind whirring.
“Do you know if it’s the same with Ulric?” I asked.
“I have not asked,” he said, falling in behind me.
It occurred to me that one or the other, Jasper or Ulric, was always out in the halls whenever I got up from a nightmare, a frequent occurrence lately. Almost as if they knew what was happening. And then there was Mr. Tom, who was always one step ahead of me when it came to getting up in the morning, either waiting by my bed or getting coffee ready to bring up. He could accurately predict my hunger and had a sixth sense about what I needed before I asked for it.
Because he’d been feeling my emotions the whole time.
We neared Ivy House, its massive shape cloaked in dark shadows that matched my mood. Niamh sat on her porch across the street, a rock in hand. She was watching a man who’d stalled in front of Ivy House. He reached into the satchel hanging at his side, probably to grab a newly created potion. Given she hadn’t thrown the rock yet, she knew he wasn’t a tourist. Now she was watching to see if he’d become my next professor.
I had my mind on other things. Mainly, the fact that Mr. Tom and the gargoyles were not the only people who’d been lying to me.
Austin had been able to feel me all this time as well. He’d randomly called when I was upset for some reason or other, or in danger, to check in. The “coincidence” had always been welcomed. But now I realized those calls hadn’t been random. He’d been responding to my distress.