“Hungry?” An apple slice on a dagger’s blade was thrust in my face. “No.” I pushed the Guardian’s hand away, my stomach turning. He popped that slice into his mouth, the fruit crunching as he chewed. His eyes were hazel today. Maybe that was their normal shade. I preferred the vivid, bold colors. It made it easier to remember that he wasn’t a normal man. “Don’t tell me you get sick at the sight of just a little blood?” he asked. “I’d hardly consider a bucket’s worth ‘just a little blood.’”
