“I wondered why Jerith was so possessive of his damned parrots,” Roland said. “I found out. And if you ever try to eavesdrop on me, I’ll know it. If you can hear my thoughts, I can hear yours. Toy with me, and I won’t act civilized like Helena.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but he interrupted. “You think I’m bluffing? That I don’t have the balls to play vicious?” He put his fist against my face and roughly dragged the parrot’s snout along my cheek. The moment the parrot touched me, Roland’s fury screamed in my ears like a howl of feedback from an amplifier; then he pulled back the parrot and the noise cut off. “Now you know it’s no bluff,” he said. “No one gets into my head but me.”

“The same goes for me.” I tried to snatch the parrot from his hand, but he swung it back out of my reach. His grip on my wrist tightened.

“I don’t need a parrot to get into your head,” he snapped. “I know exactly what women like you think. ’Creepy Roland, ugly Roland,’ that’s always the attitude. With a pinch of pity thrown in, just to make it hurt more.”

“I’m not — ”

He twisted my arm and jerked it down hard. “Shut up!” he screamed. “I can hear you. I can hear you trying to decide which lie will pacify me. I can hear you wonder if you should come on to me, if you can stomach giving Roland a press of the flesh, ugly Roland will be so overcome...  God damn you!”

In blind rage, he swung his fist at my jaw. I managed to block with my free arm and took the blow above my elbow. The crunching impact hurt like hell, his knuckles hammering into me deep as the bone. Then he whispered, “Oh, shit,” and his grip on my other arm went slack.

I writhed away from him. He fell over facedown and stopped moving.

For several seconds, I kept my distance, panting and rubbing my arm. He still didn’t move. Had he fainted? Or was he just faking? But why? I thought of reaching for my parrot to see what was in his mind; but if he was just faking, that would infuriate him.