I turned my face up to his. I could hardly look at him the same way. I was crying without realizing I'd started. "You made a deal with Hank. You saved my life. Why would you do that for me?" "Angel," he murmured, clasping my face between his hands. "I don't think you understand the lengths I would go to if it means keeping you here with me.
Becca FitzpatrickDoes this have anything to do with the unit weโre studying? Because I canโt find anything about desired characteristics of a mate anywhere in our text.
Becca FitzpatrickThatโs an unfortunate place for a birthmark,โ I said, more than a little unnerved that it was so similarly positioned to my own scar. Patch casually but noticeably slid his sleeve down over his wrist. โYouโd prefer it someplace more private?โ โI wouldnโt prefer it anywhere.โ I wasnโt sure how this sounded and tried again. โI wouldnโt care if you didnโt have it at all.โ I tried a third time. โI donโt care about your birthmark, period.
Becca FitzpatrickI can't imagine why you're so interested." He shook his head. "Interested? We're talking about you. I'm fascinated.
Becca FitzpatrickDeep, dark unearthly black. I hadn't told anyone yet, but the color kept streaking across my mind at the oddest moments. When it did, my skin shivered pleasantly, and it was as if I could feel the color tracing a finger tenderly along my jaw, tipping my chin up to face it directly. I knew it was absurd to think a color would come to life, but once or twice, I was sure I'd caught a flash of something more substantial behind the color. A pair of eyes. The way they studied me cut to the heart.
Becca Fitzpatrick