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“I’d ask you if it hurts, but I already know what the answer will be.” She sounded dissatisfied. He wondered why, then screamed silently at himself to stop wondering why. He breathed in. He breathed out. He breathed in again. She touched a pad soaked in alcohol to the edges of the wound on his arm and he flinched—even that minor contact, even when it brought pain—it was too much. It made him think of things he could never have. It made him ache. He brushed her hand away. “Leave it,” he said, hard. “Have the Servus do it. You shouldn’t even be in here. This is no place for you.” There was a moment of silence, then she sighed. “Oh, Demetrius.” Startled by the quiet sorrow in her voice, he opened his eyes and found her staring at him, a furrow between her arched brows. She sat down on a s
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