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Torrin must be awake. The sound grows louder, and his pain calls to me. Before I can question why, I’m on my feet by the door. It’s a bad idea, but I cannot stop. I can see myself doing it, but my body doesn’t listen to me. I’m no longer in control, which is terrifying. The one thing they couldn’t take from me was my body.

Breaking the lock, I step out into the corridor and slink down the carpeted hallway to the dining room. Bram is leaning against the chimney with his eyes closed. Emrys is sprawled in the dark near the hallway, so I have to step over him. Raiden is in his fox form, curled up on a table. I don’t spot Kitt, although I know he is somewhere, but my eyes drop to Torrin. He’s sweating, his eyes are screwed shut, and he’s clearly asleep, but even his hands twitch in pain. It’s only when I drop to my knees next to him and reach for his hand that I realise the noise he made in complaint was not out loud . . . but in my head.

Swallowing that scary knowledge, I grip his clammy hand. It dwarves mine, but I focus on his face as his eyes open and lock on me. He looks surprised to see me, almost as surprised as I am to be here.

I overheard them saying that due to the damage, it will take him a few days to heal. I guess that means we are staying here, and while he heals, he’ll be in pain. I don’t know why I care, but I tighten my hold on his hand as he watches me like he’s terrified of what I will do. It’s cute.

“I suppose I should thank you for saving me, even if I didn’t need your help and wouldn’t have died,” I murmur, my voice low, and despite my teasing and his pain, he smiles.

“Don’t take it to heart. It was those stupid Fates with the mate bond. I wish I could let you die.” His voice is quiet and tight, but he isn’t whimpering anymore, which is good.

“I know, but still.” I look down at his stomach. “Thank you. That is the first time anyone has ever tried to save me.”

That seems to surprise him, and when I meet his searching gaze, I force a mocking smile on my lips. “It was still dumb though.”

He chuckles before groaning when it pulls on his injury, his face white with pain before he breathes through it. He goes to speak, but his eyes move past me, and I turn to follow his gaze.

I meet Kitt’s eyes through the window. He’s little more than a dark shadow where he stands on the balcony of the lodge outside. I try to drop Torrin’s hand, but he grips it tighter. “Please, don’t let go. I don’t want to be alone yet.”

I look back at him. “You’re never alone. They are in your head, right?”

“That’s different.” I can tell it costs him to ask for me to remain, so I turn back to Torrin and continue to hold his hand. “Please.”

It’s my undoing. Despite how much I hate this bond and them, I cannot deny that soft plea. It’s a weakness he would never allow himself outside of this moment.

I understand. It’s not about who I am, per se, but about the hand in the dark when you’re suffering, alone, and scared. You cling to it, no matter who it is.

After all, didn’t I do the same? Look where that got me.

I must have fallen asleep at some point while tending him because when I wake up, my head rests on Torrin’s shoulder and our hands are still entwined. My mind is fuzzy with exhaustion. I was up most of the night washing his sweaty face, offering water and herbs, trying to get him to settle, but the last thing I remember is seeing the sunrise. The rest of the room is empty, so I turn my head and find the others in the dining area behind us. Glancing at Torrin, I ensure he’s asleep—some colour has returned to his skin—then I carefully extract my hand from his. He winces as he reaches for me, but I manage to get away without waking him as I rise to my feet.

Rolling my stiff muscles, I stare at the guys, my cheeks flaming at being caught, but they remain silent as I walk their way and snatch some food.

“How long will it take for him to heal?” I murmur, keeping my voice low so I do not disturb him.

“Why? Anxious to get moving and break the bond?” Raiden smirks, but it lacks heat, and there’s a tightness to his features that has me rolling my eyes.

“Two days at most, then he’ll be able to move, but it will be a few more days after that until he’s fully functional,” Bram says, and Kitt throws him a glare. “What? Like she doesn’t deserve to know. I didn’t see you holding his hand all night while he cried out in pain.”

“He was hurt because of her,” Emrys remarks as he comes inside and hangs up his hat, pushing his hair back as he glances at me then the others, that faraway look coming to his eyes again.

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you talking about me in your little mind bond,” I grumble, exhaustion and irritation causing me to say it out loud.

Emrys’s eyes narrow, and he steps closer to me, his nostrils flaring. Up close, his eyes are stunning and almost too bright, and those scars . . . I ache to taste them with my tongue—wait, what the fuck? No, I don’t. “I told them that unless they want me to go feral, I need to feed soon. Are you offering, meat sack?” There’s a silken quality to his voice, but also an undercurrent of hunger, and now that I’m really looking, I notice his hands are shaking. He looks like he’s ready to pounce.

“Emrys,” Kitt warns as he slowly stands. Emrys’s head snaps around as he bares his teeth. “Brother.”

Emrys shakes his head, closes his eyes, and stumbles back. “It’s been too long. I pushed it,” he admits, turning away as he takes deep breaths.

“What does he need?” I ask the others. I’ve heard stories, and I know from the ones I’ve spoken with in Gehenna too, but I want to know if he’ll admit it and ask for help.

“Flesh, girl, I need flesh,” he hisses, glancing back at me. “And soon or I’m going to start taking bites out of you.”

“I might like it.” I chuckle, and his eyes narrow. “Okay, how do you normally feed?”

“We hunt,” is all Kitt says, and he stands. “I will go with him.” No one seems excited about the idea, but it’s obvious they have done it before.

“I’ll go.” I shrug.