But Evianne had spent five days running from him, not toward him. And then she’d run toward a drowning boy without a single thought for herself.
That wasn’t strategy.
That was just who she was.
Veil sat there watching the color slowly return to her face, and the feeling in his chest, that cracked-open, terrifying, undeniable thing, only grew stronger with every steady beat of her heart on the monitor.
Five days of distance.
Five seconds of terror.
And the Duke of Veilcourt finally understood that pride was a very poor substitute for the woman lying unconscious in front of him.
Chapter Five
IWAKE UP WARM, WHICHis wrong.
The last thing I remember is cold. Cold so deep it felt permanent, like it had replaced my blood and my bones and everything that made me alive. But I’m warm now, warm and heavy and aching everywhere, and there’s a beeping sound, steady and rhythmic, and something attached to my arm, and the air smells like antiseptic and lavender.
I try to sit up and immediately regret it. My muscles scream. The room tilts. There’s an IV line pulling at my arm and I’m wearing a hospital gown that isn’t mine.
The lake.
The memory hits all at once. The crack. The scream. The boy in the green scarf disappearing through the ice. Me running, diving, the water so cold it stole everything. The darkness pulling me down while my body stopped working.
The boy.
Is the boy okay?
I jerk upright despite every muscle fighting me, fumbling with the blankets, trying to get my legs over the side of the bed because I need to know, I need to find out—
The door opens.
Veil walks in.
And he looks wrong.
