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I managed a jerky nod, the words catching in my throat.

His lips thinned, but his eyes were intent. “Are they events of the past or things yet to come?”

Things yet to come? Like… prophecies? Were those things people here had? The confusion was almost enough to cut through the panic still roaring in my veins, making my heart race. Callum frowned, his eyes melting, turning into that liquid moving under glass. I managed to take a stuttering breath. The smell of stale oranges surrounded us, and I briefly remembered taking off the lapis lazuli pendant the night before. The oil lamp flared brighter behind him, casting his golden skin in a deeper shadow. His nostrils flared, and he eased into a sitting position, the blanket pooling around his hips. His shirt hung open nearly to his waist, the deep v of the neckband entirely unlaced. For a moment, the sight of a dark blue vine and scrollwork tattoo covering his sternum distracted me from the horrific memory-turned-dream.

“Amethyst,” he whispered, “what has you terrified?”

I swallowed down another embarrassing sound, my heart in my throat and pounding in my ears. Callum circled my wrist, running his thumb along the back of my hand. I let my eyes drop to the touch, trying to reel myself back in, tamping down the visceral aversion to touch that was a reaction to the nightmare. It took me a minute to realize he was tracing the Mark nestled between my thumb and finger.

The words just spilled out of me without any kind of poise or organization, falling over each other until it felt like I might choke on them.

“It’s something that’s already happened. A c-couple years ago now. I was assaulted, and the dreams happen sometimes, especially when I’m stressed. They leave me really confused and… and most of the time I can’t remember what’s real and what isn’t. It takes a few minutes when I wake up to figure out everything, like where I am.”

“Assault?” His voice was rougher than before. I nodded once. “You were hit?”

I shook my head then grimaced. “Well, technically, he did hit me. But that’s… that’s not what I meant by that.”

Callum’s frown deepened. Pine slowly wove around me, an edge to it that had a whine trying to build in my throat again. His hold on my wrist tightened for a second, and then he trailed the touch up my arm. He palmed my elbow, his thumb tracing shapes on the sleeve of the nightgown.

“What did you mean?” he asked, his eyes on where he held me.

Wisteria wrapped around me, and I breathed it in, letting it soothe the panic still clawing up my throat and clamping down on my chest. It was stupid, and I’d blame the fact it was the middle of the night of the first day truly in a different world—permanently, at least—when I hated myself for it in the morning.

“Amethyst, what does assault mean in your Arizona?” His voice was softer, its own soothing timbre, just as effective as the pine and wisteria of his scent.

“Um, well…”

I swallowed again, focusing on the tattoo on his chest. It was easier to let myself be vulnerable not looking directly at him.

“Assault does mean being hit or hurt. Technically. But it…” I licked my lips, trying to brace myself for saying the word out loud. “Sometimes it’s used to soften the reality of rape so people don’t feel as uncomfortable when confronted with it.”

Callum froze.

The silence morphed, so intense it charged with electricity. One small move, and it would set everything ablaze. I held my breath, trying to brace for the explosion, for him standing up and walking out of the room. I could handle that, I told myself. It was better he knew now. Not being a virgin was one thing, but this? It was very different. I wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to deal with the idiosyncrasies left in the aftermath of the assaults. No one else had, not for more than a night or two. Now I didn’t even give them a chance.

A low growl rumbled through his chest. Goosebumps rushed across my skin, and a noise caught in my throat. All at once, I felt like a rabbit stuck in a snare again, like I had when we traveled through the mountains. His hand shook as he tucked a finger under my chin and gently urged my focus back onto him. There was nothing but rage in his expression, his jaw nearly white from how hard he clenched it and his lips peeled back in a snarl.

“What?” The word rumbled through him, rattling my entire being.

The scent of stale oranges flooded the room again. The growl grew louder, darker. That feeling of being prey caught in a trap only intensified. I couldn’t stop the small whimper that fell into the space between us. He sucked in a harsh breath, the growl cutting off all at once.

“Holy Valyn, please tell me that doesn’t… that you weren’t…”

He cut off and closed his eyes. The pine of his scent overpowered the wisteria, an edge to it I hadn’t noticed before, even more prevalent than a few minutes ago. His body strung tighter as the seconds passed, prepping for a strike or punch, though his touch on my chin stayed gentle.

“Who’s Valyn?” I asked, mostly to distract myself. And maybe Callum, too.

His hand shook like a leaf, and that edge to his pine scent was growing even more pronounced. It had an embarrassing noise welling just behind my lips, but I kept it from gaining any kind of sound this time. This was already way more intimate and vulnerable than I ever wanted to be, even with Sloane. Maybe especially with Sloane. She didn’t know about the assaults, not after the first one ended with him being acquitted without even a smack on the wrist.

Callum closed his eyes, breathing heavily in for several counts and then out for even more. His scent didn’t dissipate, but the trembling of his body subsided.

“Valyn’s the God of Wrath and Vengeance,” he murmured without opening his eyes. He breathed slowly again, even more drawn out than the first. Then, in a voice so low and hoarse it rumbled nearly as much as that terrifying growl, he asked, “You were raped?”

I didn’t immediately say anything. I wanted to curl up under the blanket, away from his scrutiny and the reality of what happened. His eyes opened, the gold piercing despite being solid.

“Tell me.” For all the quiet of his voice, it was a command that wrapped around me like steel bands. “You were raped in your Arizona?”

Part of me, despite everything, wanted to laugh over the way they all referred to Earth and Arizona. The rest of me just wanted to disappear into the ground so I didn’t have to talk about any of this. Something about my expression must have given me away because he ran his thumb along my jaw and then palmed the side of my throat, his long fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of my neck. His eyes melted, swirling again, the simmering anger disappearing seemingly altogether, though I knew that wasn’t actually possible.