“Sage?”

Adrian appeared in the doorway, and I quickly tried to blink away the tears that had started to fill my eyes. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Can’t you tell from my aura?”

He didn’t answer but instead took the washcloth from me before I dropped it. “Turn,” he commanded. I did, and he dabbed the scrape with it. With him standing so close to me, I could see that his eyes were bloodshot. I could also smell the alcohol on him. Nonetheless, his hand was steadier than mine. Again, he asked, “You okay?”

“I’m not the one who had a sword to my throat.”

“That’s not the question I asked. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No,” I said, looking down. “Just maybe… maybe my pride.”

“Your pride?” He paused to rinse the washcloth. “What does that have to do with anything?”

I looked up but still didn’t meet his eyes. “I can do a lot of things, Adrian. And—at the risk of sounding egotistical—I mean, well, I can do a lot of pretty awesome things that most people can’t.”

There was amusement in his voice. “Don’t I know it. You can change a tire in ten minutes while speaking Greek.”

“Five minutes,” I said. “But when my life’s on the line—when others’ lives are on the line—what good am I? I can’t fight. I was completely helpless out there. Just like when the Strigoi attacked us and Lee. I can only stand and watch and wait for people like Rose and Dimitri to save me. I… I’m like a storybook damsel in distress.”

He finished cleaning my cheek and set the washcloth down. He cupped my face in his hands. “The only thing true about what you just said was the storybook damsel part—and that’s only because you’re pretty enough to be one. Not the distress thing. Everything else you just said was ridiculous. You’re not helpless.”

I finally looked up. In our conversations, Adrian wasn’t usually the one accusing me of being ridiculous. “Oh? So I am like Rose and Dimitri?”

“No. No more than I am. And, if memory serves, someone told me recently it was useless trying to be like other people. That you should only try to be yourself.”

I scowled at having my words thrown back at me. “This isn’t the same situation at all. I’m talking about taking care of myself, not impressing someone.”

“Well, there’s your other problem, Sage. ‘Taking care of yourself.’ These encounters you’ve had—Strigoi, crazy guys with swords. Those aren’t exactly normal. I don’t think you can really get down on yourself for not being able to fight back against those kinds of attacks. Most people couldn’t.”

“I should be able to,” I muttered.

His eyes were sympathetic. “Then learn. That same person who likes giving me advice once told me not to be a victim. So don’t be. You’ve learned how to do a million other things. Learn this. Take a self-defense class. Get a gun. You can’t be a guardian, but that’s not the only way to protect yourself.”