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He smiled, as fake as my own smile, and turned over his arm so I could see the inside of his forearm. Now the grime of that room was washed off him, I could see the white scars layered on top of each other, hundreds upon hundreds of them, from his fingers up his arms and to his neck. There were even a few faint lines on his jaw. And on the inside of his right forearm was a curse mark. Not the same as mine, but obviously by the same tattooist. The lines were shattered, like something had exploded it apart.
"Wane," I breathed, hovering my fingers over the dark ink, my heart crushing in my chest. "What did he—"
"He cursed everyone to forget me. He was the only one who knew about me—and Andryas, his servant and enforcer. The curse broke when you remembered me."
Andryas.I committed that name to memory, already planning his death.
I was so focused on the curse branded on his arm that I jumped when Wane touched me, folding my hand between his.
"Sorry," he murmured and began to drop my hand. I scrambled to hold onto him, my fingers shaking.
"No.I—I'm just so used to not touching you," I admitted, trying so hard to push through the numbness icing my entire chest so I couldfeelsomething. I should have felt something right now with Wane beside me, finally safe. I held onto his hand tightly, my throat burning and stomach roiling again.
"Touch me as much as you like," he replied, his voice tight and raspy as he gazed at me. "I don't—I don't remember what Locke did every time I'm touched now. That fear was tortured out of me years ago.Shit,I shouldn't have said that," he rushed out when I flinched.
"I want to know," I breathed, flicking a tear off my cheek and inching closer to him, my eyes on the brutal lines of his face. He was too thin, too poorly cared for. We'd change that. It was my job—to take care of him, to give him everything he needed. My heart thudded hard in my chest. I’d done a piss poor job of that so far.
Wane shook his head hard, rich chestnut hair flowing freely now, not plastered to his head. I was starting to feel like a gremlin beside him, dirty and ragged. "It's—you shouldn't know, Haley. I don’twantyou to know. You can never unhear it."
"I can never unsee you in that room," I murmured, seeing it now, the dark walls, the piss bucket, and wane folded up in the corner, covered by a scrap of shadow. "I want to know, Wane. You're mine; what happened to you happened to me."
He squeezed my hand, linking our fingers and killing me with the simple touch. It had been so fucking long since I'd touched him.A hundred years.
A tear dripped off my chin and splashed our hands, sliding over a scar he'd carved into the back of his hand. My name, always my name.
He wanted to take her name from me.
"He—killed me," Wane whispered. "Over and over. And when he didn't, he ordered Andryas to do worse things." I jerked, sucking in a breath. "Not rape. He never even threatened me with that. But—you can see what he did to me. I'm ruined."
"That's not what I see," I replied in the same soft tone, turning his face so he met my eyes. The misery and self-hate in his silver eyes killed me. "I see someone hetriedto ruin. He failed. You're here, still breathing, speaking to me, bringing me sandwiches."
Wane laughed. His eyes creased, his cheeks curving, his dimple appearing. I made himlaugh.Hot tears rushed down my cheeks, and I couldn't take it anymore; I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly.
"Tell me to let go if you need me to," I breathed, shaking as I clung to him.
"I'm okay," he promised, folding his arms around me, so warm against me. "You have no idea how much I need this, Haley. Every day, I imagined this. I dreamed of you holding me, telling me everything would be okay now, that I was safe. It was the only thing that kept my dark thoughts at bay. But I—Ihatethat I could only touch you for a few minutes when we were together. I hate that I wasted so much time."
"You're traumatised, and triggered by touch, Wane. That's not wasted time. Do you think I ever loved you any less because you have tight boundaries? I never did. You always respected my needs, so why is it a bad thing that you had needs, too?"
He held me tighter. "I just—being alone for so long in that room, all I wanted was to have you close. Being alone and without you was a thousand times worse than what happened when you touched me. I wanted to go back in time and do everything differently."
"You told me once thatwhat ifsare a special kind of torture."
He sighed, unable to argue with his past self. "I know. I just missed you so much."
I melted into him, resting my face on his shoulder and letting his sweet scent drown every sense until I could breathe again. "You know I'm going to kill him for what he did to you, right?"
Wane's chest jumped with a soft laugh. "That's the fourth promise I've had in twenty-four hours."
"Good. It’s a family murder, the whole gang's involved."
His next laugh ruffled the baby hairs at my scalp. "Just like old times."
I smiled, but it still felt strange and frozen on my face, and I was one sharp motion away from throwing up again.
"Haley, I—" Wane began, softer. Careful. "I'm sorry for how I treated—him," he breathed, knowing I couldn't stand hearing Wynvail's name right now. "I didn't realise—I’ve had a lot of time to think today, and I was wrong. When I said he wasn't your mate. I was wrong."
My stomach cramped. I pressed my face into Wane’s shoulder, inhaling short, sharp breaths as I rode out the nausea. "It's okay."
