“Do they hurt?” Rory asked, reaching out with his fingers, but halting just before they could contact the skin.
“Not anymore, but I can tell you that they hurt for days when they were first made.” Libs pulled down his sleeve. “I’ve had those for over a hundred and fifty years. They never fade. The scientists checked, made a new one each week to see if any of them ever started to scar. Can you tell which ones are older? They couldn’t.”
“Could you?” Rory said softly, taking Libs’ hand and pushing up the edge of the sleeve so he could look at the first burn mark.
“The oldest ones stopped burning first. I—”
Rory’s thumb caressed the sensitive skin at Libs’ wrist. Libs could practically feel every ridge of the man’s fingerprint skimming over the dip of his once-existent pulse point.
“Will
