Page 89 of Heart of Thorns

She blinks, focusing on me. My phone lies facedown somewhere to the side, the flash illuminating the room. It helps me see the moment she realizes what she’s done.

I wrap my fingers around her hand and the knife, moving it away from my throat.

“Thorne,” she gasps. “Oh God.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“You’re bleeding!” She tosses the knife and stares down at me. “And I…”

“Performed some cool moves,” I finish, attempting humor. I move her back a little, until she’s sitting on my thighs, and sit up. “I’ve gotta say, though, I’m concerned about why that’s your first reaction to someone waking you up.”

She stiffens.

I tuck her hair behind her ear, then carefully straighten her shirt. Her shorts are twisted, too. Once I’m done fussing, she lets out a sigh. She climbs off me and stands beside the bed, her expression wary.

I scoot back until I can rest against her headboard, then pat my lap. “Come back here.”

“I just… you’re bleeding.”

I touch my throat, and my fingers come away dotted with blood. “I’m not going to die from a scratch. Come. Here.”

She exhales and relents. She crawls toward me and slowly swings her leg over my lap. My hands automatically find her bare thighs, and my fingers creep down toward her knee. We’ve been working on strengthening exercises, and it seems to be helping. Forward progress is usually slow in the beginning—excruciatingly so. But she hasn’t given up on me.

I find the rough, scarred skin, and she shivers. It doesn’t bother me—not how she thinks.

Itkillsme that this happened to her.

But I’ve never been disgusted by her scars. The thought that someone made her think they should be hidden twists my stomach.

“So.” I knead her legs. “The pot and forks? The mini hockey stick?”

She bites her lip.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I don’t know why, but I do.”

“Thentrustme.” I lean in and steal a quick kiss. “And that’smylip to bite, kitten.”

Her breathing hitches. “Bossy.”

“If you wantbossy, then tell me what’s going on.” The need to know is going to drive me insane.

“I…” She shudders. “You know about the fire.”

“I do.”

“Well… it wasn’t an accident.”

I straighten. “What?”

Her gaze slides away from me. “There was someone there that night. They started the fire and they—they saw me coming, trying to get out, and slammed the door in my face.”

Tears fill her eyes.

I tug her to my chest, the horror echoing through me. I cannot imagine what that would’ve been like. The fear of it.

I know fear.

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