“Who? Alizeh?” “Bastard,” Kamran muttered as renewed feeling lanced through him, birdsong filling his head, a warm, not unpleasant sensation sparking along the disfigured lines of his neck, his cheek, his changed eye. “You did that on purpose.” “I swear I didn’t,” said Hazan quietly, studying Kamran closely now. “I don’t understand. You can’t hear her name without experiencing . . . what? Pain?” The feeling was slowly abating, and Kamran drew a steadying breath as he shook his head. “It’s not always pain. I feel . . . different things each time, and it only started this morning. You don’t
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