“What the fuck were you thinking?” Thad raged, vaulting out of the pool as he dropped to my side, his fingers checking my pulse and brushing my cheek. His upper body leaned over me, his wet clothes clinging to every line of his body. He looked delicious, but also as though he wanted to strangle me. It was so reminiscent of Benedict that my lips twitched.

“You don’t give up! You never quit fighting!” He shook my shoulders, and with reluctance my eyes snapped to his. I could have happily drowned in the depths of his dark eyes, and a wry grin twisted my mouth at such an inappropriate thought. With a wave of his hand the candles relit, casting dark shadows over both of us.

“I’m tired of fighting,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

“You care so little for your mates?” He questioned, disbelief in his voice. “The same men who declared you their everything? Benedict threatened to pull out my arteries and weave a necklace. Where is your love for them?”

Thad wasn’t making me feel better. He was making it worse. He pushed a jerky hand through his hair, his voice frustrated as he tried to get through to me.

“I lied to you earlier. Spike didn’t find me after three days. He knew where I was the whole time. The boys who had done it were proud and boasted about it to everyone. So together, they all decided that if I couldn’t get out on my own, I didn’t deserve their regard as the heir to Cantrada. I was eight.”

My own problems left me in a whoosh of air. “That’s . . . that’s—”

“I climbed out of that well myself. It took three days, and my hands were raw and scraped down to the bone in some places.”

Thad held up his hands, and the white scars were vivid against his skin, especially with my draken eyesight. His eyes flashed in remembered pain, and I repressed the urge to seize his scarred hands in mine.

“My point is, the only one who can get you out of the well is you. If you’re always relying on others to tell you that you’re strong, that you’re brave, that you’re,” he took a shuddering breath, “incredibly beautiful, then you are relying on them for your happiness.”

I blinked, trying to process the words I heard, but I couldn’t shake the image of a crying, dark-haired boy trapped in the darkness. I don’t know what compelled me to do what I did next, but I blamed it on the rush of compassion I felt for the young vision of Thad swimming in front of my eyes. Perhaps it was because I remembered the scent of loneliness that lingered on his skin, or how he’d just called me beautiful, but one moment his hands were in front of me, and the next I had taken one of his slender fingers and put them to my lips.

Thad went still and so did time itself. His skin felt soft against mine, despite the ridges and bumps from the scarring. I lifted my eyes to his and saw a look of fierce concentration contorting his face. I tore away the bandage covering his hand, revealing the deep laceration in his palm. Before he could react, I leaned my head over his hand and ran my tongue over the wound. Thad’s entire body shivered, his skin rippling oddly as his eyes fluttered closed. Or was that simply an illusion of the dim candlelight?