I let him suffer the discomfort of my prickly glare a few seconds. “What do you think happened to Grim after the fight at Rainier? You never said, and I’ve been too distracted to ask.”

He shook his head and looked away. “I don’t know what happened to him. I assume the cave-in buried him. I... I’ve been back to check, but there was no sign of him.”

“He’s a wild card again. Another unpredictable factor we don’t know how to account for?”

He raised a shoulder and dropped it. “I’m sorry, Solina. I wish I could tell you something more definite.”

“Do you regret it?”

His gaze cut to me, and his lips thinned. “Regret what?”

“Fighting him. He’s your brother, after all.”

His throat worked. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “At the time, I was willing to do whatever it took to bring him down…”

“But now that you’re no longer in the heat of the moment?”

He pressed his lips together and avoided my stare. How many times had Mani and I fought? How many times had we said and done things to hurt each other in moments of extreme anger? Of course, Mani had never tried to kill anyone under my protection and care. I still hated Grim, but then again, he wasn’t my own flesh and blood.

Time for a change of subject. “Hey, Thorin?”

He set down his coffee cup and looked up at me. “Yes?”

“Where are my jeans? I thought I left them on the counter after my shower.”

“They were bloody. I hope you don’t mind, but...” He bent, grabbed something from the floor near his bed, and tossed it at me.

I caught the bundle, recognizing it as a shopping bag from a national chain. Peeking inside, I found a pair of jeans in the same size and style as my previous pair, generic sneakers and socks, a long-sleeved shirt and a tank top—the kind that came with built-in support—and a plain gray hoodie. As if I needed further evidence of my exhaustion and strained nerves, embarrassing tears welled up in my eyes. The smallest gestures and a little kindness—those things meant the most in difficult times. A couple of deep breaths got my swirly emotions under control. I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders, but I kept my gaze pinned on the floor.

“Thank you.”

“I got you a toothbrush, too. I would have gotten you some, ah, other things to wear, but I was afraid you would think it was presumptuous of me.”

“No, this will do fine. It’s perfect, actually.”

“When I promised to protect you, I meant more than just keeping you alive.”

I swallowed and met his eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

A brief grin played across his lips. “But I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe I think you’re worth it.”

My knees nearly buckled, and I retreated into the bathroom. My brain short-circuited on forming a reply. “I, uh...”

“Solina lost for a smartass retort? I never thought I’d see the day.”

I closed the bathroom door, slumped against the counter, and exhaled a long sigh. A being like him was never intended for a mortal woman like me, one who aged and died. I can’t ever be more than a fruit fly to him, a passing whim. If only he would stop making it so hard to believe that.

After I dressed, I splashed water on my face and tied back my hair. I sucked in a deep breath and opened the door.

Thorin leaned against the wall across from me. He glanced up from his phone. “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

In a flash, he crossed the space between us, and with a gentle touch, he drew me close, filling my senses with his scent of storms and ozone. I reached around his neck, preparing to secure myself for the ride through the ther, but then I paused and pulled back.

He frowned. “What is it?”

“Turn off your thoughts.”

His scowl deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Whatever’s in your head right now, I don’t want to know about it. There’s something there. I feel it crackling around you like static electricity.”

“What are you so afraid of seeing?”

“A whole lot of things. It might not be wolves or monsters, but I have a feeling it could hurt me just as badly.”

He gasped and tightened his hold. His eyes darkened. “Sunshine, I’d never—”

“Please,” I implored. “Later. When things are... not like they are now. So uncertain and volatile.”

Chicken shit, said my inner critic, the little devil on my shoulder.

“We may never get that chance. Is that a risk you want to take? The regrets might be worse than reality. I thought you wanted to be more like your brother. He wouldn’t hesitate or deny himself.”

I sucked a sharp breath through my teeth. “That’s a cheap shot.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“You’re right.” I raised my chin and tried my best to stare down my nose at him. “My brother wouldn’t hesitate. He was impetuous and pleasure seeking to a fault sometimes. And that part of his nature might have been a factor in his death. I do want to be more like him, but not to my own detriment.”

He stiffened. “And you think I’m a detriment to you?”

I inhaled a slow breath and held it. Then I shook my head and let it out. “I think... I think immortality and humanity are like oil and water. They don’t mix.”

“I thought you said you believed in me.”

Not understanding his point, I frowned. “I do.”

He shook his head and grimaced. “No, you don’t. Or you wouldn’t have these doubts. You should know me better by now. I’m patient, persistent, and don’t easily surrender.” And with that, my ears popped, and the hotel room blurred away.

Either he guarded himself as I had asked, or the distraction of space and time screaming past us disrupted our connection. He held me close—so close my ribs creaked, and although I had thrown my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him, I sensed none of his thoughts. And for a moment, I regretted it.