The Fever King (Feverwake #1)(91)

Noam frowned. “I don’t understand. If there’s something you can tell me that would explain all of this, I think you’d better just fucking tell me. Let me make my own decisions, Dara.”

The sound Dara made was like a laugh, but not. “No. No. I can defend myself, but you . . .” He shook his head, letting out a rough sigh, then turned his face up toward the streetlamp. “Tell Lehrer whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jesus, Dara, if you could stop being so obtuse for just one second—” Words failed him. Noam’s rage was a living thing inside him, clawing up the ladder of his rib cage and scratching at his sternum. He growled out an exasperated noise. “And you—I don’t understand how you knew. About the coup. Or . . .”

Or when Noam came back from the funeral and Dara didn’t want to talk to him, as if he’d predicted what Noam was going to say.

No.

Lehrer, in that room: With your remarkable gift, Dara, surely you must already know the answer . . .

Noam’s pulse roared in his ears, that sudden realization crashing down on him like a massive wave.

Impossible. There would have been signs.

Only there were signs; Noam just hadn’t been paying attention.

Fuck. Fuck. The frigid night suddenly felt crushingly hot.

“You’re a telepath,” Noam croaked out.

Dara stared determinedly at the streetlamp, a muscle pulsing in his jaw.

“You’re a—you can read my mind?” Noam was going to throw up, he was sure of it. His thoughts were nothing but white noise. “You didn’t . . . you didn’t tell me—you didn’t—Jesus. This whole time? This whole time, you knew what I was doing with Lehrer. You knew how I . . .”

How I felt about you.

“I’m sorry,” Dara whispered.

“And Lehrer? Have you been reading his mind too?” Noam only knew some details about the coup. If Dara read his mind and reported back to Sacha, the plan might be safe. But if he’d read Lehrer’s mind . . . Noam felt dizzy.

“No. Not Lehrer. I can’t read Lehrer’s mind.”

“Why not?”

Dara exhaled. “I just can’t. I suppose if you get to his age, you pick up on a few tricks. Either way, I can’t read his mind any more than you can.”

Noam didn’t believe him. He had to imagine Dara would say anything to help him and Sacha achieve their ends and bring down Lehrer, but . . .

But Lehrer would have known Dara’s presenting power too. It was probably the reason he took such a personal interest when Dara first survived the virus. Lehrer wouldn’t risk having Dara so close if he thought Dara could read all Carolinia’s secrets from his mind like words on a page. He must have safeguards in place.

Safeguards Noam definitely didn’t have.

That must be why Lehrer had always been so cryptic with Noam before, only told Noam his plans on a need-to-know basis. He knew that anything he told Noam, he might as well be telling Dara.

And Sacha.

“Why?” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me? Because you didn’t trust me to trust you? Because you can’t read Lehrer, and you figured the closer I got to him, the more you could know what’s going on in his head?” Every breath was broken glass. “Or was it because you liked having access to my private thoughts without me knowing?”

Noam hated the hot lump that swelled in his throat. He felt too tight, skin stretched over bone, vision blurry.

“You’re right,” Dara said. “I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

“I hope it was worth it.”

Noam started walking again, still away from the complex, even though he was starting to wish he could turn around and go back. Dara followed, his steps a beat slower than Noam’s, just out of sight, though Noam felt his gaze on the back of his head. Felt Dara, slipping between his thoughts.

“Noam,” Dara said eventually. Noam didn’t turn around. He knew what he’d see. “Noam, please.”

“What.”

“Noam, please look at me.”

Dara’s fingertips touched the back of Noam’s arm, and Noam whirled around, yanking himself out of reach. God, he fucking hated the heat prickling at his eyes right now. Dara would be in his mind, too, reading exactly how Noam felt, every last sickening beat of his emotions on vivid display.

And a part of Noam didn’t mind that. Some fucked-up part of him still wanted Dara there, twining their minds together. Like he craved being near Dara even now, after everything.

“I love you, Noam,” Dara said. It was almost pleading. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I know you better than anyone. I’ve had almost a year in your mind—I know what you’ve been through. I know what you want, what you’re afraid of, all those secret thoughts you’d never tell anyone—I know you. And I love you.”

Two weeks ago, Noam would have been the happiest person in the world. Now those words were poison. Noam tasted venom like heat on his tongue.

“So read my mind,” Noam said, brandishing a hand toward his own temple. “I believe you, Dara. I just don’t care.”

He relished the look on Dara’s face, as if Noam had torn out his guts with his bare hand. And he left him there, standing alone on the sidewalk as Noam walked away and didn’t look back.