Words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them. They were small and foolish and true. “What are those…” She could not finish the question because the question had escaped her against herself.

For a heartbeat, just one, his brow drew in the slightest frown, as if the scars were such a part of him he had forgotten they might look strange to anyone else. His gaze dropped over himself for the briefest second, like he only then understood what she meant. “Ah,” his eyes lifted back to her and he looked at her as he looked at everything else. Then, in that low, rough voice that she’d come to hate, he said, “Surprised to see what you’ve done to me?”

Y/n’s chest tightened so hard it hurt. Her eyes locked to his sharp ones. “What?” The word left her in a thin, breathless whisper. She had done it? What madness was this? She had never met him before, had she? Was she missing something? A piece of her life? A memory? Nothing in her mind pointed to any moment she could have harmed him. It made no sense.

“How could I do that?” she whispered.

He walked closer, one long stride that sent a shiver up her spine. His shadow moved over her skin, and her breath faltered. That voice, rough and heavy like smoke, came again.

“That should be my question.”