I tilted my head to the side, narrowing my eyes, and I moved closer. He was exposed to me, like he opened a window and I was seeing the little boy inside of him.

Hurt and a tiny degree of raw anger flared in his depths before switching to uncertainty. He was letting me see inside of him. I felt my heart surge against my chest then, wanting to climb out to him. The feeling was overwhelming.

I asked so quietly, “Why?”

He gazed at me, questioning me.

“Why didn’t he deserve me?”

I suddenly needed to hear something loving, something I hadn’t heard from anyone all my life. I moved another step closer so I was within touching distance of him. I could see his pulse pounding through a vein in his neck.

He held himself still, just watching me back, before he murmured, “Because you were good. He wasn’t. He was beneath you.”

“You’re nothing but a whore,” Edmund said. “I’ve seen you with that rich boy. I’ve seen you two kissing. His tongue going down your mouth. I’ve seen it all, and I knew it would be my job to save you.”

His breath was hot, rank, as he brought the knife to my throat. He was excited and aroused. I felt him pressing against my leg.

He coated my face with his spit, saying, “You’re going to be saved today, girl. One way or another, you will be.”

I blinked back a tear and swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. “How do you know?” I could only whisper. How did he know I was good?

Kian’s hand lifted, cupping the back of my neck, and he leaned down so that his forehead rested against mine. I felt the struggle in him then. He was holding himself back, trying to keep control.

I wanted to yank it out of him. Whatever the consequences, whatever happened, I wanted it to happen. An ache was in me, one that I wanted him to fill. There was a hole inside me, one that his words, his touch, and his protection could heal. I was leaning into him, my forehead pressing back, and my eyes clung to his. I was starving for him.

He said so softly and gently, “Because I’m not good. Because I’m like Justin, like Edmund. I’ve hurt. I’ve killed. I’ve stood by when people I loved were hurt.” His hand trailed around my neck in a soft caress and went up to rest against my cheek. He wasn’t holding me. He was just touching me. “I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t let you get hurt, not when you weren’t like the rest of us. You’re good. You were then. You are now.”

My heart pressed even more to my chest, wanting to go to him if it could.

He said, “He hurt my sister, and after it happened, I couldn’t do anything. I wanted to make him suffer. My dad wouldn’t allow it. Justin started dating you, and I knew it was going to happen again. I knew of you from school. You were quiet and stayed to yourself, stayed in the background. That was why Justin picked you—because he could hurt you and get away with it. No one was going to protect you. But you were good. I saw it then, and it’s still in you. You’re still good, Jordan. When you broke up with him, I was relieved, but it wasn’t because he hadn’t hurt you.”

His head lifted. Blinding pain and regret flared up. It was fierce in his eyes as he said, “I was relieved because I didn’t have to stop him—” His voice broke as guilt flooded him.

His head lowered. His eyes left mine, but I reached up. I caught the side of his face, and I made him look at me again. Our eyes met, and I saw a stark need for something was there, inside of him. I couldn’t place it, but it struck deep inside me, as if I could heal him like he’d allowed me to heal, too.

“Finish it.” Please.

“He hurt my sister, and I couldn’t make him pay for it. If he hurt you, too, I couldn’t have lived with it. Any other girl…” He looked away again.

I didn’t let him. I made him look at me, my fingers sinking into his skin.

“There’s something about you.” His eyes rounded, looking in wonderment at me now. “I don’t know what it is. I felt it back then. I didn’t care about other girls, even the girls in my group. They were all the same. People just hurt people. I didn’t care. But when he started with you, I cared. I cared too much. I couldn’t let him hurt you, but it meant going against my father and my family. I would’ve lost them. If I said or did anything, I would’ve been exiled from them.”

Kian went to my house that day, knowing what would happen. “They would’ve kicked you out?”

He nodded, his head moving against my hand. “I shouldn’t have given a damn, but you broke up with him, and I was so fucking relieved that I wouldn’t have to fight my father. Justin started bragging again. He was going to wine and dine you and take you to the party that next weekend. He was going to finish what he’d started. Those were his words.”

I winced, but that sounded like my asshole ex-boyfriend. My would-have-been rapist.

“Like I said before, he was going to your house that day to ask you. I wanted to tell you not to go out with him. I didn’t know if he’d already be there. I didn’t know what I would be walking into, but I had to stop him. You couldn’t get hurt.” He shook his head, saying to himself, “Not you.”

I didn’t know what to feel. So many emotions were going through me—relief, gratefulness, anger, pain. But there were others, ones I didn’t want to name. So, I didn’t.

I moved, pressing my lips to his.

It was a soft kiss, almost like our first one, but this one was different. There was something new about it, something tender. Warmth swept through me, filling every part of my body, and it pushed all those other emotions out. It was just us, just this touch. That was the only thing that mattered.