Beside the bed sat Renwick in a crushed velvet chair. His crumpled clothes and tousled hair denoted he had been in the chair for a long time. But his eyes were clear and bright as he stared at her, his lips slowly pulling up into a smile. “You’re alive.” He swept his hair off his face. “I’m not so easily killed,” Rua whispered, sizing up the scratch marks down his face. She didn’t remember doing it, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Renwick cut her off. “I deserved it,” he murmured. “I deserved it and a lot more, Rua. I should have told you the first moment I saw you, I just . . .” his
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