“You are going to have a nasty scar," I said as I gently held pressure to stop the bleeding."All true warriors wear their scars proudly," he mumbled. "How can I be proud of this one?"I looked up at him, horrified, as I realized what he meant. "What will your parents say?" I would be sent to Siberia. My whole family would be exiled. If not executed. He shook his head. "They will know about the count before too long. My father will think that I failed to protect the public from this danger. It is I who fear being sent to Siberia.""But...wait. I didn't express my fears out loud, did I?" I dropped his arm and backed away, suddenly spooked by his silvery faerie eyes. "Can you read my thoughts?""Sometimes, when I concentrate." He winced and grabbed the bandage from me to apply pressure to the bleeding himself. "You are very easy to read. Most of the time.”

“He stares at me steadily, for a long moment before looking away, but I read his eyes clearly. He wants me tonight. And from what my eyes were saying back to him, I think I just said yes.”

“You okay?" he says, touching my cheek. His hand cradles the side of my head, his long fingers slipping through my hair. He smiles and holds my head in place as he kisses me. Heat spreads through me slowly.And fear, buzzing like an alarm in my chest.His lips still on mine,he pushes the jacket from my shoulders.I flinch when I hear it drop,and push him back,my eyes burning. I don't know why I feel this way. I didn't feel like this when he kissed me on the train.I press my palms to my face,covering my eyes."What? What's wrong?"I shake my head."Don't tell me it's nothing." His voice is cold.He grabs my arm. "Hey. Look at me."I take my hands from my face and lift my eyes to his.The hurt in his eyes and the anger in his clenched jaw surprise me."Sometimes I wonder," I say,as calmly as I can, "what's in it for you. This...whatever it is.""What's in it for me," he repeats. He steps back,shaking his head. "You're an idiot,Tris.""I am not an idiot," I say. "Which is why I know that it's a little weird that,of all the girls you could have chosen,you chose me.So if you're just looking for...um,you know...that...""What? Sex?" He scowls at me. "You know, if that was all I wanted, you probably wouldn't be the first person I would go to."I feel like he just punched me in the stomach. Of course I'm not the first person he would go to-not the first, not the prettiest,not desirable. I press my hands to my abdomen and look away, fighting off tears. I am not the crying type.Nor am I the yelling type. I blink a few times, lower my hands, and stare up at him."I'm going to leave now," I say quietly. And I turn toward the door."No,Tris." He grabs my wrist and wrenches me back. I push him away,hard, but he grabs my other wrist, holding our crossed arms between us."I'm sorry I said that," he says. "What I meant was that you aren't like that. Which I knew when I met you.""You were an obstacle in my fear landscape." My lower lip wobbles. "Did you know that?""What?" He releases my wrists, and the hurt look is back. "You're afraid of me?""Not you," I say. I bite my lip to keep it still. "Being with you...with anyone. I've never been involved with someone before,and...you're older, and I don't know what your expectations are,and...""Tris," he says sternly, "I don't know what delusion you're operating under,but this is all new to me, too.""Delusion?" I repeat. "You mean you haven't..." I raise my eyebrows. "Oh. Oh.I just assumed..." That because I am so absorbed by him, everyone else must be too. "Um. You know.""Well,you assumed wrong." He looks away. His cheeks are bright,like he's embarrassed. "You can tell me anything, you know," he says. He takes my face in his hands,his fingertips cold and his palms warm. "I am kinder than I seemed in training. I promise."I believe him.But this has nothing to do with his kindness.He kisses me between the eyebrows, and on the tip of my nose,and then carefully fits his mouth to mine. I am on edge.I have electricity coursing through my veins instead of blood. I want him to kiss me,I want him to; I am afraid of where it might go.”

“Why do you care, anyway?" I say. "You can be either cruel instructor or concerned boyfriend." I tense up at the word "boyfriend." I didn’t mean to use it so flippantly, but it’s too late now. "You can’t play both parts at the same time.""I am not cruel." He scowls at me "I was protecting you this morning. How do you think Peter and his idiot friends would have reacted if they discovered that you and I were..." He sighs. "You would never win. They would always call you ranking a result of my favoritism rather than your skill."I open my mouth to object, but I can't. A few smart remarks come to mind, but I dismiss them. He's right. My cheeks warm, and I cool them with my hands."You didn't have to insult me to prove something to them," I say finally."And you didn't have to run off to your brother just because I hurt you," he says. He rubs at the back of his neck."Besides- it worked, didn't it?""At my expense.""I didn't think it would affect you this way." Then he looks down and shrugs. "Sometimes I forget that I can hurt you. That you are capable of being hurt."I slide my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels. A strange feeling goes through me- a sweet, aching weakness. He did what he did because he believed in my strength.At home it was Caleb who was strong, because he could forget himself, because all the characteristics my parents valued came naturally to him. No one has ever been so convinced of my strength.I stand on my tiptoes, lift my head, and kiss him. Only our lips touch."You're brilliant. You know that?" I shake my head. "You always know exactly what to do.""Only because I've been thinking about his for a long time," he says, kissing me briefly. "How I would handle it, if you and I..." He pulls back and smiles. "Did I hear you call me your boyfriend, Tris?""Not exactly." I shrug. "Why? Do you want me to?"He slips his hands over my neck and presses his thumbs under my chin, tilting my head back so his forehead meets mine. For a moment he stands there, his eyes closed, breathing my air. I feel the pulse in his fingertips. I feel the quickness of his breath. He seems nervous."Yes," he finally says.”

“<…>His body shook as his grin spread to a smile. Then he asked, "You honestly think you can tackle me?" "I didn't say it would be a successful tackle." And then my husband burst out laughing. And I watched. He didn't give this to me often but I always watched. This time it was way better because he was doing it while still inside me. Then his laughter died to a chuckle, he dropped his forehead to mine and his hand came up and curled around the side of my neck. And when he did the last, the laughter died, his eyes held mine and he whispered, "Is my mama home?" I swallowed but I still knew my eyes got bright and my voice was husky when I whispered back, "Yes." He closed his eyes, shifted the lower half of his face and touched his mouth to mine. Then he lifted his head away, opened his eyes and I felt his thumb stroke my jaw. His gaze again locked with mine, he told me gently, "Missed you, baby." I swallowed again and my arms and legs tightened around him. "Me too."<…>”

“Is the mask magic?" he demanded with sudden, passionate interest."Yes." I bowed my head, so that our eyes no longer met. "I made it magic to keep you safe. The mask is your friend, Erik. As long as you wear it, no mirror can ever show you the face again."He was silent then and when I showed him the new mask he accepted it without question and put it on hastily with his clumsy, bandaged fingers. But when I stood up to go, he reacted with panic and clutched at my grown."Don't go! Don't leave me here in the dark.""You are not in the dark," I said patiently. "Look, I have left the candle ..."But I knew, as I looked at him, that it would have made no difference if I had left him fifty candles. The darkness he feared was in his own mind and there was no light in the universe powerful enough to take that darkness from him.With a sigh of resignation I sat back on the bed and began to sing softly; and before I had finished the first verse, he was asleep.The bandages on his hands and wrists showed white and eerie in the candle-light, as I eased my skirts from his grasp.I knew that Marie was right.Physically and mentally, I had scarred him for life.”