“I shouldn’t want you like I do, Rexxan,” she whispers, honest as ever. Her fingers trace the scar on my face, and it feels like she’s committing my features to memory before a goodbye. “Does this hurt?” “Every minute of every day.” She’s so close. So close. Breathing life into the fire within me that I thought long-extinct. “I don’t believe I should want you like I do either, Renna.” “But you do,” she murmurs, her eyes snapping back to mine. Her face is elaborately painted with silver moonlight and black shadows, and in looking at her eyes I feel something I haven’t seen for a long time;
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