He looked from my neck to me. “No, Lilah. Your wounds are already closed. By the time your dad gets here, they’ll be gone.”

I blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Something else I can do. Odd, but useful.”

“Whoa,” I breathed, then I felt my eyes get big and I cried, “How cool!”

He looked into my eyes for some time, seeming strangely surprised and somewhat puzzled, before he replied in a way it sounded like he didn’t quite mean his words, “Yeah. Cool.”

I decided not to get into his reaction and instead noted, “Your eyes have both turned brown.”

“Yeah,” he replied.

“What is that?” I asked.

He dipped close and slid his temple along mine like he did when he’d first found me, like he did to Jian-Li the day before.

My belly melted and he whispered in my ear, “Magic.”

He was full of it, but still, his answer was sweet so I let him have it.

He lifted away and was drawing random patterns on my neck that I could (unfortunately) only vaguely feel, seeming lost in thought, his eyes drifting from my neck to my lips, my jaw, my hair, so I took that opportunity to lift my hand in order to start tracing the wicked, but hot, scar on his face.

Before I even touched him, he jerked his head back and focused on me, his fingers at my neck stopping, and the moment was broken.

“Sorry,” I murmured, feeling like an idiot, looking to his shoulder and dropping my hand.

“Happened a long time ago, Lilah,” he said gently. “And still do not like shit near my face.”

That made sense.

I still felt bereft. Like we’d shared something, come to an understanding, moved to a different level, and he’d taken it all away.

Suddenly I wanted him off me and I wanted to shower. Get some food. Go upstairs and be with Jian-Li and the boys, just so they could act as a buffer.

“I don’t scar.”

My gaze slid to his face when he said this.

“What?”

He dipped closer and his voice dipped lower. “I don’t scar, pussycat.”

“Okay,” I whispered, knowing what pussycat meant and liking that he called me that.

“Don’t scar, heal fast,” he carried on. “Was out at a bar.” He got even closer, putting his nose alongside mine, his eyes staring into mine. “To find a meal,” he said super-quiet.

I rolled my eyes, and when I rolled them back, his were grinning and he pulled a bit away.

“And some bitch roofied me.”

I stared.

He read my stare and said, “Yeah. Totally freaked me. Drugs don’t do shit for me, not that I need them. Don’t get headaches, muscle pain, colds, shit like that. But I haven’t lived a choirboy’s life. Tried some shit. Did nothin’ for me. Whatever she gave me fucked me up.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed.