"It is nothing," Malcolm choked out, his voice sounding like gravel scraping against iron as he forced the words through his tight, dry throat. He kept his back turned to the shadow towering behind him, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the mattress. "I just want to use the bathroom. Go back to sleep and leave me alone."
Dahmer let out a low, deep chuckle that rumbled through the quiet room, a sound so dark and smooth it sent an immediate wave of dread straight down Malcolm's sweating spine.
"Is that all, my King?" Dahmer whispered.
Without laying a single finger on Malcolm's skin, keeping his hands completely away to honor his word, Dahmer reached out and gripped the edge of the heavy silk blanket. With a slow, smooth drag of his arm, he pulled the sheets completely away from Malcolm's lower body, tossing them to the side.
