Dumbstruck, I sat there staining my furniture and gawping up at him. “What?”

“Your shirt. It’s ruined. Take it off.” He spread his supplies on the table in front of me. “I’ll clean you up and get you a new one.”

The ridiculous urge to cross my arms over my chest made my voice snap. “Casual nudity is part of your culture, not mine.”

He eyed my breasts appreciatively. “Are you wearing a bra?”

“I don’t see why that’s any of your— Hey.” I popped his hand when he shoved the neck of my shirt aside in search of straps. “Stop that.”

“Ellis, either take off the shirt and let me clean you, or I’m going to wake up Aunt Dot.” He drummed his fingers on the bench behind me. “It’s just a shirt. There’s still a bra on under there. You’ve still got pants on. You won’t be naked. You’ll be halfway to a bikini.”

“I’ve never worn a bikini,” I grumbled, hooking my thumbs in the hem of the shirt and peeling it over my head.

“No.” Apology tightened his expression. “I don’t suppose you have.”

I gritted my teeth to stop the rush of blood in my temples from transforming to the crash of waves. A ribbon of girlish laughter echoed through my thoughts before I clamped down on the memories. I didn’t want to lose it in front of Graeson. I preferred confronting the specter of my sister alone.

“Here.” I offered him the ruined T-shirt. “You can toss it in the trash can under the sink.”

He did, then brought the damp cloth and knelt in front of me. I sat sideways on the seat, with one arm braced on the table and the other on its back. My feet were planted on the linoleum, knees tight together until he nudged them apart with a firm hand. Cupping my shoulder, he twisted me just enough to invigorate the burn.

“The cuts aren’t deep.” He gave each mark his full attention. “There’s more blood than wound, honestly.” He applied the warm cloth, and for a second the wet heat felt divine. “How fast do Gemini heal?”

I winced as he shifted the nubby fabric. “Slightly faster than humans.”

“Does whatever ability you’ve absorbed at the time augment that at all?”

“It’s possible.” I considered the question. “We don’t have absolute control over what qualities we skim from the blood of our donors. Usually it’s their most striking feature or their most dangerous asset, since it’s a defense mechanism for us. Even though we tend to absorb only one or two facets of a donor’s gift, extras crop up from time to time.”

“Extras?”