“He raised his bony fingers as if to touch me and I steeled myself not to flinch as his hand, still smoldering, neared my face.He rattled and spoke his last words. "Worth...the...fall.”

“Day leans in toward me. He reaches up to touch my face. I can tell it still hurts him to use his fingers, and his nails are dark with dried blood. "You're brilliant," he says. "But you're a fool to stay wish someone like me."I close my eyes at the touch of his hand. "Then we're both fools.”

“His hands are on my back, in my hair, on my hips. His fingers move like I'm Braille, like he's trying to read me just by touching me.”

“He raised his brows. "You're drunk." "Am not!" He gave me a bland look. "A drunk's famous last words before they fall flat on their face.”

“I turned around slowly, and looked up at him. He stiffened and sucked in a shallow breath. After a moment, he touched my cheek."Such naked pain," he whispered.I turned my face into his palm and closed my eyes. His fingers threaded into my hair, cupped my head, and brushed the brand. It heated at his touch. His hand tightened at the base of my skull and squeezed, and he raised me slowly to my tiptoes. I opened my eyes and it was my turn to inhale sharply. Not human. Oh, no, not this man."Never show it to me again." His face was cold, hard, his voice colder.”

“His hand still rested on her breast, but his fingers had stilled. The touch that had been so agitating now felt comforting. As though he soothed her by it.”