Zayne’s head tilted to the side. “What are you saying?”

“My training. My belief that I shouldn’t use my grace until I have to. That’s my weakness. All that training is hard to break. When I fell into that tunnel, I should’ve used my grace immediately, but I didn’t, and he got the upper hand. Not only that, he called me out on not using my grace.” I stared at my hands. “I will never let that happen again.”

30

Since there was a small chance I might have a tiny concussion, Zayne insisted on treating me like I was a human who was on their deathbed.

Upon arriving at the apartment, I showered while Zayne waited outside the bathroom with the door cracked. I didn’t know if he expected me to faint and bash my head open again on the stall, but with every passing minute, I felt stronger and the throbbing along the back of my head lessened. Shampooing the blood out of my hair, however, was not a pleasant experience, as it caused the cut to sting like a wasp had tried to mate with my head.

Afterward, Zayne had coaxed me into the living room and forced a bottle of water on me. He didn’t want to leave me alone in the bedroom, at least not for the next couple hours, and I was secretly glad to have his company and the soft, flickering glow of the television. After the complete darkness of the tunnel, I didn’t think I’d be able to relax for one moment in that bedroom without every light turned on.

Things weren’t as caustic between us as they’d been before I fell into a tunnel, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think that meant things were okeydoke between us. But I still enjoyed being able to sit next to him and not want to bite his head off like a female praying mantis.

At some point, I did fall asleep, and Zayne didn’t intercede. I woke up hours later with the sunlight streaming through the windows and the soft quilt tucked around my shoulders. The gesture was sweet and made my heart ache more than my head.

But I woke up alone and not like I had the last time I’d slept on this couch, all warm and toasty, snuggled against Zayne. Swallowing a sigh, I sat up, holding the quilt around me like a cape. I found that Zayne hadn’t gone far. He stood in front of the fridge, one hand on the door, the other on his hip as he shook his head.

I’d totally forgotten what I’d done the day before.

“Uh...” I murmured, slowly rising from the couch.

Zayne’s head jerked over his shoulder. I was too far from him to make out his expression when he said, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Almost perfect.”