He yanked on my arm, pulling me straight, and his other hand caught my jaw. Forcing my head up, he leaned down, his face filling my blurring vision. My breath wheezed from my lungs too fast and my head spun. A low, husky laugh rumbled from his throat, his breath brushing across my tear-streaked cheeks, and he whispered, “What does your blood look like, payilas?”
