If it had lasted even a millisecond longer, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back a scream. As it was, I managed to limit myself to a pained whimper.

The pain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, although Keane didn’t release my hand. I let out a shuddering sigh as he ran his fingertips across my skin. The touch was almost like a caress, and now that the pain had stopped, I couldn’t help noticing that my hand was almost within touching distance of something I had no desire to touch. Funny how I failed to pull away, even when I noticed that.

I glanced at Keane’s face but was unable to tell what he was thinking. Was he stroking my hand like that because he was searching for signs of more injuries? His touch felt too much like a caress for that. But I was like a bratty kid sister to him, so why would it be a caress?

No way he was coming on to me, I told myself firmly as he let go of my hand and I fought the urge to leave it right where it was. Keane didn’t even like me, much less like me. And what kind of a slut did it make me that I was even thinking about this when Ethan had just been kidnapped? Maybe Ethan’s jealousy hadn’t been as misplaced as I’d thought …

I held my hand up in front of my face and examined my now-healed fingers, wiggling them experimentally. They all moved on command, and there was no residual pain.

“Good as new,” I said, a little breathlessly. But I was just breathless because the healing had hurt so much, not because I was reacting to Keane’s touch. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

“Good,” Keane said, then folded his arms over his chest and gave me one of his disapproving-teacher looks. “Now, want to tell me what that was all about?”

My eyes widened. “You’re asking me? I’m not the one who went on the attack without even saying hello.”

He gave me one of his smug looks, the kind I hated. “You think the bad guys are going to warn you before they attack?” He unfolded his arms and did a manly-man pose, making his voice comically deep. “Excuse me, miss, but I thought I should warn you I’m about to try to kill you. Please prepare to defend yourself.”

“Hardee-har-har,” I growled. “You’re so funny I’m about to die laughing.” I remembered the strange look on his face when I’d first entered the room, and I had a hard time believing he was telling me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Something had prompted him to be especially aggressive today, and it wasn’t just part of his lesson plan.

“So,” he continued, “what was with the Muhammad Ali impersonation?” He rubbed his jaw approximately where I’d hit him, but I doubted it was because I’d hurt him.

Much as he’d annoyed me, I had to admit, it was my fault I’d gotten hurt. I knew better than to punch him in the face. We’d fought for maybe five minutes—probably less—and I’d made two major mistakes, both of which could easily have been fatal in a real fight. I’m not what you’d call a pro at this self-defense stuff, but that was bad even for me.

“I can’t do this today,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t act normal. And anything you try to teach me is going to go in one ear and out the other.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, and I glanced over at him again. His eyes were closed, and a muscle ticked in the side of his jaw. Why he would get so bent out of shape about me not wanting my lesson was a mystery. When he spoke, it sounded like he was forcing the words out through clenched teeth.

“The bad guys aren’t going to wait until you’re in the mood for a fight.”

I made a sound between a huff of exasperation and a growl. “I’m sick to death of that argument. I don’t care what you think. I need a day off after seeing my…” My voice trailed off, because I’d been about to call Ethan my boyfriend, and I’d made it clear to both him and me that he was no such thing. I swallowed hard. “… my friend captured by the Wild Hunt because he was trying to defend me.”

If I’d hoped talking about my trauma would make Keane take pity on me, I was sadly mistaken.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But if you think Ethan Leigh is your friend, you’re deluded.”

I gaped at him. Where was all this coming from?

“Tell me you weren’t falling for his song and dance,” Keane continued, giving me an intense stare that made me squirm.

“Oh for God’s sake! Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” It wasn’t like Keane had any cause to be jealous. He and I weren’t even friends, much less dating. And I couldn’t imagine Keane being jealous of Ethan’s success with girls. I suspected girls fell at Keane’s feet on a regular basis.

“All right: I’m not jealous,” Keane said, and he sounded like he meant it, despite the way his eyes flashed dangerously.

“You don’t even know him!” I said, ignoring his claim. I knew jealousy when I saw it, and I was looking right in its face.

Keane gave me an incredulous look. “Says who?”

I stammered, because, of course, I had no idea if the two of them knew each other. I’d just assumed they didn’t.

“There are exactly two secondary schools in Avalon,” he said, his voice tight with repressed anger. “I had the bad luck of going to the same one as your ‘friend’ Ethan. There may have been a couple of girls in our class he failed to hit on, but only because they were ugly. As soon as he got what he wanted from one, he’d move on to the next. Even if his next target already had a boyfriend. That just made it more of a challenge for him. His ego was far more important to him than anyone’s feelings. You’re fooling yourself if you think you’re the one who’s going to make an honest man out of him. That’s what he wants all of his conquests to believe.”