Kai cocked his head toward Sascha’s coffee table, where the bottles of polish and newspaper still lay. “You painted my mark.” Now that he mentioned it, the design Sascha had traced did bear a remarkable resemblance to Kai’s weird smoke tattoos. Still. “I was just doodling with nail polish!” Sascha protested. Kai huffed, like Sascha was the one being unreasonable. “You said the words, did you not?” “I didn’t know what I was saying!” “And you spilled your blood upon the symbol.”
