Kieran folded his arms over his broad chest. “Under the right or, I suppose extreme circumstances, those of his kind can become quite possessive.”

“With what? Their meals?”

“Did he bite you?”

“Other than the first time?” I resisted the urge to touch the nearly faded mark on my throat. “No.”

Something akin to disappointment flickered over his face, and without thinking, I opened my gift and reached out to him. There would be time later to feel guilt over prying when it didn’t seem exactly necessary. What I felt wasn’t what I imagined disappointment to feel like. This was thick and cloying, reminding me of too-heavy cream. Concern. He felt concern. I pulled my senses back.

“What was wrong with him?” I asked, even though I already suspected I knew.

He watched me for a moment. “He’ll be fine. Although, I suggest you take this time to prepare yourself before he returns.”

Frustration surged, and I narrowed my eyes. “Thanks for the suggestion, but you didn’t answer my question. You said that you warned him. About what?”

Kieran said nothing.

Never able to remain seated when anger started pumping through my blood, I grabbed the dagger and shoved off the blanket, standing.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You plan to use that?”

“Why does everyone think I’m going to stab them when I pick up anything that’s not blunt?”

“Well,” Kieran replied blandly, “you do have a habit of doing exactly that.”

I started to argue but quickly realized that, unfortunately, he had a point. “Only when it’s deserved.” I placed the dagger on the small wooden table. “And it’s not my fault that some of you deserve to be stabbed. Repeatedly.”

He inclined his head as if he agreed with the point I’d made. “You shouldn’t worry about him—”

“And you should answer my question.” I faced him. “Something was obviously wrong with him. He wasn’t in control, and I felt his hunger. He was starving.”

“So you used your abilities?” A faint smile appeared. “Glad you took my advice.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know that Atlantians need to feed off other Atlantians. He told me that they don’t need the blood of mortals, but of their own kind. That they need to feed. But he never said why. I may not be a scholar on all things Atlantian, but I’m guessing the black eyes and him being ready to bite your head off are a couple of the reasons Atlantians need to feed?”

“The black eyes, yes. But the wanting to bite my head off probably had more to do with whatever morning activities you two were indulging in.”

My face flamed hotly, and it took everything in me to ignore that. “He needs to feed—” I thought about earlier, after the Dead Bones Clan attack. “That’s why he was staring at my arm in the woods! When you asked if he was okay. He was hungry then. That’s why he was…all growly and wanted to bite your head off.”

“Part of the reason. Yes.” Kieran looked away, dragging his teeth over his lip. A long moment passed. “He needs to feed. I could tell he was getting to the edge, but he’s not about to tip over it. He’s not that close.”

Unease blossomed. “How can he not be close? He didn’t recognize you or me.”

His gaze slid back to mine. “If he was closer to the edge, he would’ve ripped my head off, and you would be Ascending as we speak, forbidden or not. Or, you’d be dead. If he was too close to the edge, one drop of your blood would’ve sent him over. You most likely would’ve died, and when he realized what he’d done, he would’ve…I don’t even want to think about what he would’ve done.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, unsure which of those two options was worse. Well, Kieran getting his head torn off sounded way more painful and…messy than what could’ve happened to me.

If Casteel had been too close to the edge, if he’d fed and then ended up turning me, I would become…an Ascended. Unable to control my bloodlust. Unable to walk in the sun. Virtually immortal. But what kind of life was that?

Though what kind of life would I even have with Casteel? By the time I was old and gray, he would look as he did now. Young. Vital. He would—

Wait. Why was I even thinking about a future—our future—when there really wasn’t one? Maybe I truly had lost my mind.

I felt like I needed to sit down. “If this was him not close to the edge, then I don’t think I want to see him on it.”

“No, you do not.” Kieran tipped his head back against the wall. “Did he wake up normally, or was he startled awake?”

Thinking of what I’d been doing and fantasizing about before he’d woken up, I was glad that Kieran wasn’t looking at me. “I think I woke him up. I moved, and that’s when he sort of launched himself at me.”

“That makes sense,” he murmured, eyes closing. “I don’t like talking about him—about this kind of stuff. If he knew I was, he probably would rip my head off. I’d deserve it because there are things only he should be allowed to repeat. But I think you need to know this even though I’m not sure you deserve to be privy to the knowledge.”

“Why wouldn’t I be deserving?” I asked. It wasn’t like I was the one running around and kidnapping people. Casteel was.

“Because this is something only close friends and loved ones should be privy to, and you are neither.”

Well, he had a point there. But I already knew what Kieran didn’t think would be right to share. “He told me before that he had nightmares, and that sometimes when he woke, he didn’t know where he was.”

In any other situation, I would’ve laughed upon seeing Kieran so surprised. But none of this was funny. “He told you?”

I nodded. “I had a nightmare—I have bad ones—and after one of them woke him, he told me about his.”

Kieran’s expression smoothed out. “Yes. He has nightmares. You know what was done to him when he was held by the Ascended. Sometimes, he finds himself back there, caged and used, his blood nor his body his.”

This time, I sat down before even realizing it, though I wasn’t surprised to find myself there. The heaviness of his words had put me there, and the reminder of the agony and horror of what Casteel had faced kept me there.

“When he has those nightmares he told you about, and if he’s startled awake, sometimes his mind gets stuck in that madness,” Kieran went on. And if anyone knew how nightmares could feel so very real, it was me. “And if he hasn’t fed, he can slip a little into the animal they turned him into.”

A monster.

Shuddering, I closed my eyes. What had he said when I’d called him a monster? I wasn’t born that way. I was made this way. But he wasn’t that. My heart ached as fiercely as it had when Casteel had told me about his captivity.

Letting out a shaky breath, I opened my eyes to find Kieran watching me. “He’s not an animal,” I said, and I wasn’t sure why I’d said it, but I needed to. “I don’t know what he is, but he’s not that. He’s not a monster.”

“No, he’s not.” His head tilted to the side. “I think you would’ve liked him if you had met him before all of this.”

Uncomfortable with how much I would’ve preferred that, I folded one arm over my waist.

A sad, wry smile formed on Kieran’s face, almost as if he knew what I was thinking. “I imagine a lot would be different.”

I nodded slowly, pulling myself out of the well of sorrow that was a cavern in my chest. “Why hasn’t he fed? There were Atlantians at the keep, right? There are Atlantians here.”

Kieran nodded. “There are many he could’ve fed from but he hasn’t.”

“Why? Why would he let it get to this point?”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a damn good question, isn’t it?”

My damn good question didn’t have an answer, and it plagued me as I washed up and dressed in the baggy pants and the deep green tunic that had been in the bundle Quentyn had given me. Other unanswered questions bothered me, as well. Why wouldn’t Casteel have fed? Were the nightmares also partly responsible for the cutting sadness that clung to him? If this was him not too close to the edge, then what was he like when he was at the edge? What would’ve happened if he hadn’t…well, fed from me differently?

And why in the world had I allowed him, when he was obviously not in his right mind, to do what he’d done? And why had he done that? Did bloodlust elicit such actions? Or was it because he’d sensed my arousal? My cheeks burned, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to that question.

Either way, I had been wrong when I said that I didn’t have a death wish. Because what if he had been teetering on that edge and he’d used that mouth for something else?

My stomach dipped as I ran a brush through my tangled hair. In the soft lamplight, the strands reminded me more of a ruby-hued wine than a blazing fire, like it often did in the sun. I angled my head to the side. The bite marks were no longer visible, but I left my hair down anyway and then stepped back into the bedchamber.

Kieran stood by the terrace doors, staring out them. I wasn’t exactly surprised to see that he was still here. “Are you on babysitting duty? I agreed to the marriage,” I said as I picked up the thigh sheath. The word marriage still sounded strange on my tongue. “I’m not going to run.”

He turned to me. “I was waiting to see if you’d like to get some breakfast.”

“Oh.” I slid the wolven dagger into the holder and then straightened the hem of the tunic. The top was more form-fitting than I was used to, but it was clean. I glanced at the door. “Should we...should we wait for Casteel?”

He turned to me. “That won’t be necessary. He’ll find us when he’s ready.”

I nibbled on my lower lip. It didn’t feel right to go off when he was…well, going through whatever he was. And it also felt weird to be so concerned about him.