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I looked up at him, ready to tell him off, and then…I was hot.

Boiling.

Burning up.

Onfire.

The urge to strip my clothes off to cool down seemed all too easy, made too much sense. My lashes fluttered as I tried to refocus on Wes. On how he was always shoving me out. On how he was always hiding from me. On how his life sucked, maybe just as bad as mine did.

“No, not me, you.”Did I just slur?

“What?”

“Stop hiding. Stop pretending like what happens with your dad is okay, because it’s not.” I wobbled, clutching his arms tighter, loving the sensation of his skin under my hands. “It’s not okay your dad says those things to you or treats you badly.” I pitched sideways, Wes’s grip tightening around my waist, scorching my flesh.

Too hot. I was feeling too hot. I wiped my brow, eyes flickering over his chiseled features. Two beautiful lips, parted. I wondered what they felt like? I lifted my fingers, curious to touch. I wonder how they tasted—

“You should lay back down—”

A tremor shook through me as I shifted my gaze back to him. “Don’t try to change the subject.” What was I arguing with him about again?

Games. Hot, cold, hot, cold.

“I’m tired of the stupid games. I don’t want games anymore. What’s going on between us?”Wait, did I want to saythatout loud?“And, god, why the hell is it so freakinghotin here?” I started pulling on my shirt, yanking the collar, lifting the hem as the wine bubbled in my veins.

“Stop it, Mara.” Wes’s hand snapped out, grabbing my wrist.

It was too hot. “How are you not boiling under all that smooth skin and tight muscle?” I tugged on my shirt again, feeling Wes’s hold tighten further. “Let go of me. It’s too freaking hot in here.”

“You need to go back to bed, Mara.Please, just go to bed.”

“Erg! I’m not an invalid!” I shot back, slapping at the hands that sought to control me. “I said stop!” Wes let go, and I stumbled backwards. “Your life sucks, doesn’t it?” I was loud. Did I mean to yell? Yes? No? “Tell me therealstory.”

“Tell you what, Mara?” he yelled back at me, catching me by surprise. “Tell you that my dad hates me? That Chase was the only one he ever cared about? Huh? Is that what you want to hear? Or do you want me to tell you he beats my mom and that the perfect royal family he paints us to be is nothing but the most scripted bullshit that has ever been?”

I froze, my heart seizing in my chest as Wes exploded in what I could only imagine was years’ worth of heartache and suffering pouring out of him.

“Is that it? Is that what you want me to tell you?”

“I—”

“No,” he interjected, “I’m not done yet. You wanted to know everything, well now you’ve got it. My brother was a good guy, but he idolized my father, and he would have done anything for his approval.” Wes stepped back from me, running his fingers through his hair, causing the strands to loosen from the ponytail he always wore nowadays. “Nothing matters to my dad. All that matters is power. Power and more power, and it doesn’t matter to him how he gets it as long as he has it. It doesn’t matter to him what happens to the people around him as long as it’s a strong political move.”

I tried to breathe, my lungs aching for oxygen. But I was frozen, the world spinning faster with each new revelation.

Wes paced, the chaotic energy within him making his movements discordant and fast. “Want to know why he hatesme so much? Huh? Why I’m the black sheep? Because Irefuseto kiss his ass. Because I push back every time. But every time I step out of line, he hurts my mom more, hits her harder. So now I have to be careful. I have to pick which battles I fight because she doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t deserve to suffer because I don’t want to be his fucking pawn.”

Oh shit.I was at a loss. What do you say to something like this? Wes was…he was trapped.

“I’m sorry—”

He waved me off. “Whatever,” he said as he turned away from me, taking another step toward the door.

“Wait!” I reached for him again, grabbing his arm, and pulling back. Dizziness returned, but not as bad, and I was able to steady myself this time.

He sighed heavily. “Come on, Mara. Enough—”

I clutched both his arms in my hands, feeling the tension in his muscles once again. “I’m sorry. I’m not sorry that I pushed you to tell me, but Iamsorry that this is what you’re dealing with. And I—” I hesitated. I knew he knew some of my life, some of my experiences. But I also knew there was much he didn’t know. “I understand,” I finally said. “More than you could ever know.”