Page 121 of Queen of Diamonds

And now, she could be a part of that, too.

In hindsight, our lives were littered with evidence that we’d never let her go, no matter what we’d told ourselves. Maybe that was what had pushed Zed to go to the High Roller that night.

We’d all known we weren’t over her.

I reached down to the tub, which was more than full enough, and turned the taps off.

We’d drowned her in our scents, and still, traces of Ace remained. He’d scent-marked her. He must have, for the persistence of redwood and rose that still lingered.

I didn’t want him anywhere near her.

Never again.

Her skin lost a little colour as she glanced down to the bath and back to me. “You’re not going to leave, right?” she asked.

“If you want Kyan to help you, that’s fine.” She still wasn’t well enough for one of us not to be there. She frowned, glancing between us, and I felt her little flutter of insecurity.

There was a pause as I tried to work that out, but through the bond, I could feel her nerves spiking.

Oh, shit.

She seemed on the verge of tears. “I can wait for him to be done,” she said. “If you’d rather not?—”

“No.” I cleared my throat. Looking back up at her, I realised what was making her uncomfortable. “I want to help you, Princess. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted me.”

“I do,” she whispered.

I was being stupid.

Her want for us had transcended consciousness, a want so fierce and deep that even on the brink of death, she’d accepted the offer of a bond. A bond that had saved her.

No, the question wasn’t if she wanted us; it was if we could ever be worthy of a love that fierce.

Kyan was right about how wounded she was. Until this sickness had passed, we wouldn’t let go of her. Not for a second.

“Do you want me to help you take this off, or can you manage it?”

Her eyes darted between mine, and for a moment, she was slipping away, dark cardamom turning unnaturally sharp.

“Glade,” I breathed, needing to ground her. What was surfacing was feral and dangerous.

She took a breath, nails digging into my skin. “You… saw them?”

Her scars.

I knew, without having to ask. The ones that sent spikes of ice through my veins when I saw them, vile hatred grinding down the edges of my sanity to the feral Alpha below.

“They’re yours, Glade,” I said, drawing her up to look at me, not letting her miss a second of this. “You tell me what you need. If you want to talk about them, or not, I’m here. If you don’t want us to, we’ll never bring them up again, but I never want you thinking you have to be ashamed of them.”

It took a while before she nodded.

I dropped my hand, checking the water, and when I straightened, she was tugging at the hem of her shirt.

I helped her out of it, not taking my hand from her waist the whole time, trying to keep my gaze from drifting where it certainly didn’t deserve to drift right now.

She had been out for three days. Long enough that the bandages had come off the wounds along her hands and wrists. But the scabs were angry.

They’d leave her with more scars for life.

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