This was Orion in front of her, and yet it wasn’t. This was Orion’s expressions and mannerisms and his face, so beautiful under the silver moonlight that it hurt, but there was none of his attitude. Before they’d started getting along, they had exchanged jibes and mockery for sport, sniffing out each other’s sore spots like bloodhounds out for a kill. Like it or not, she knew his humor as well as the back of her hand, and here she could only find the replica of it—formed in the shape of Orion but missing his flesh and guts.
