“Tell me something,” I manage weakly. “Tell you something?” His laugh is pained. “Is this really the best time for—” “Yes,” I cut in. “It can be anything, just… just talk to me.” I squeeze my eyes shut, needing a distraction from the feel of his blood on my fingertips and the sight of it spilling over his skin. Something in the way he stills tells me he’s starting to understand. “All right.” His voice is strained. “The truth, then?” “The truth, always,” I murmur.
