“What did you dream of tonight?” He shook his head, looking toward the window—to where snow had dusted the nearby rooftops. “There are memories from Under the Mountain, Feyre, that are best left unshared. Even with you.” He’d shared enough horrific things with me that they had to be … beyond nightmares, then. But I put a hand on his elbow, naked body and all. “When you want to talk, let me know. I won’t tell the others.” I made to slither off the bed, but he grabbed my hand, keeping it against his arm. “Thank you.” I studied the hand, the ravaged face. Such pain lingered there—and exhaustion.
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