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It was all he said, but Lu felt the pathos behind it, the years and years of suffering and self-hatred. She felt it, and her heart wept for him, for whatever burden he carried, and wouldn’t share. “Please let me touch you,” she begged. The fury in his eyes was matched in his voice, though he kept it low. “You’ve touched me more than any other living thing in the last twenty years. That should be enough.” Was he talking about physically touching, or something else? She couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. “It’s not enough, Magnus. I want more. I want more of you.” Her words affected him. His eyes flashed, the hand around her wrist began to shake. He said hoarsely, “Why would you want me? I’ve got half a face!” “That doesn’t make you half a man!” He loomed over her, pressing her back agains
- Writer
