Damien’s brush slowed. His eyes rose and fixed on her in that way that always left her exposed, pinned.
“You,” he said softly, “have an energy that’s…different.”
Her lips parted slightly. “Different how?”
“Most people put on a face. They perform. Even if they’re still, their bodies are…pretending.” His gaze lingered on her a second too long. “You don’t know how to pretend.”
Lena swallowed. The words hit her deeper than she expected. “That’s not always a good thing.”
“It’s honest,” Damien replied, his tone low. “And honesty shows.”
The room went quiet except for the faint scrape of his brush. She didn’t know what to say, so she looked down at her hands.
Halfway through, Damien suddenly set down his brush and looked at her again.
“Take off your shoes.”
Lena blinked. “What?”
“Your s
