“Who knew the future Enforcer was such a baby?” I lather more salve onto his skin, and he grits his teeth. “And who knew the girl from the slums was capable of torture.” “Oh, please. Don’t be so dramatic.” “You know, I’m not entirely convinced that you’re not trying to kill me.” I quirk an eyebrow at him. “So, you don’t trust me after all?” “I don’t trust that,” he says, throwing a skeptical glance at the green paste I’m rubbing onto his wound. I laugh loudly, shaking my head at him. He suddenly goes still at my touch, his eyes dancing between mine with a small smile pulling at his lips.
