Ronan went still for a second before slowly tilting my head up so he could see my reflection. A smudged mirror. Red-tinted tears streaked paths through the dried blood on my face. Inked fingers collared my throat. “Fuck.” He pulled out of me, turned me around, and framed my face with his hands. “Did I hurt you?” I shook my head. “I don’t mean just physically, Mila.”
