“With what?” Nik asked, not missing a beat with the ink job.

I opened my eyes and turned my head so I could see his face. Or, at least, part of his face. With the way he was leaned over my arm, I could see maybe a third of his perfect, masculine features. It didn’t matter what angle I viewed him from, his beauty was unreal regardless. Not that I would ever tell him that.

Nik lifted the needle from my arm and looked at me sidelong. “Next time, warn me before you move. This shit’s permanent.”

My pulse jumped, and I glanced down at my arm, worried I’d made him screw up.

“I was kidding,” he said, nudging my shoulder with his. “It’s At, Kitty Kat; it does whatever I tell it to do. If I mess up my lines, I can fix it.” He laughed under his breath. “I’m done, anyway.”

I could see that, considering I was still looking at my arm.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded me.

I raised my gaze to meet his, licked my lips, and inhaled deeply. “I, uh . . .” I looked away, focusing instead on the opposite wall. Nik’s pale stare was too keen, too knowing. “Earlier today—”

“Yesterday,” Nik corrected. “It’s already tomorrow.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What time?”

“Four in the morning. You went through a single regeneration cycle, but I think you’ll need one more.”

I nodded absently. It made sense, considering the state I’d put myself in, not to mention everything I’d put my body through today. Or yesterday. I hadn’t intended to lose so much time—or any time. But it wasn’t like I’d have been able to execute my plan at midnight, anyway. Oh, no; this plan required regular business hours, very specific ones. This plan allowed time for one more regeneration cycle, thankfully. Nik was right: my body needed it.

“Yesterday,” I said, “I had a little chat with one of the board members at his flat—Mitch Carmichael. It didn’t matter how persuasive I was; he didn’t have the information I needed to stop this disease.” I glanced at Nik—his attention was rapt, all on me—then returned to staring at the blank wall. “When I was done with good ol’ Mitch, I sent him to Bainbridge.” Disgust was thick in my voice. “I figured they could get other useful information out of him, even if he’d proved useless with this.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” Nik commented.

My lip curled. “The things he did . . .” I shook my head, heartbeat picking up. “I wanted to kill him so badly.” My eyes burned with unshed tears. Poor Sammy. “I wanted his soul to die.” I looked at Nik, defiant. He tended to frown on me killing humans. So did I, but that wasn’t the point. “It’s what he deserved, but . . .” My shoulders slumped.

“No doubt he deserved it,” Nik said quietly. Seconds passed, me attempting to regain my simmering composure and Nik studying every inch of my face, watching me struggle with my frustration and anger. “But it wasn’t weakness—not killing him.”