“Yeah, hence the tweezers.”

I wasn’t sure how much help I’d be with my eyesight, but I had to be better than him digging around in his own skin. “Give me the tweezers. You need to get it out. Now.”

Zayne’s head swung toward me sharply and he looked at me like I’d grown two heads.

“What? I can get the claw out. Me trying has got to be better than you digging around in your own skin.”

“Are you sure you can do this?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I may be half-blind, but I will, without a doubt, do a better job than you’re doing at this moment.”

He stared at me for so long that I thought he was just going to tell me to go back to bed, and if he did, I might hit him, but then he grunted out, “Fine.” Turning back to the sink, he turned the water on and dipped the tweezers under the flow. “The claw is only about an inch long. It’s black.”

Only an inch long? Jesus. I took the tweezers from him and then openly checked out his chest. The area he was digging at was above his right nipple, and I was eye level with that sucker.

I squinted, not seeing anything beyond torn-up flesh. “I’m going to need to—”

“I know what you need to do.” His warm breath danced across my forehead. “Just do it.”

Drawing in a shallow breath, I placed my fingers on either side of the deep cut and then pulled the sides apart. Zayne hissed in a breath, and my head jerked up. Those pupils were vertical again.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s okay.”

Leaning in, I tried to ignore the minty scent that mingled with the metallic scent of blood as I looked for this inch-long claw. “How long did it take for you to realize a claw was stuck in you?”

“About when I got up and thought I was going to vomit. That’s when I realized I wasn’t healing. So, about an hour ago.”

“You’ve been digging at this for an hour?”

“Yes.”

“That’s pretty terrible.” When I peeked up at him, I saw that his jaw was tense. Sliding my hand along his skin, I pulled at the tear a little more. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Kind of hard not to when I’m pulling apart your chest wall.”

He coughed out a dry laugh. “You’re not pulling apart my chest wall.”

A second later I saw a small piece of blackness stuck in the middle of pink flesh. “So, um, are you still mad at me?”

“Mad at you for what?” he asked.

“For jumping off the building?” I got a good grip on the tweezers.

“I was trying to forget about that,” he said dryly.

My gaze lifted to him. I wanted to ask him if he was trying to forget what happened afterward, too. The question burned the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back.

“I’m not mad at you, Trin.”

Encouraged by the fact my nickname was back in usage, I drew in a shallow breath. Concentrating on the claw, I lined up the tweezer and said a little prayer. “You didn’t come in the room tonight to say good night...or anything.”

He was quiet for a moment and then said, “That wasn’t because I was mad at you.” Zayne sucked in a sharp breath as I slid the tweezers in. “You have a really steady hand.”

“I do.” I bit down on my lip. “So, why didn’t you?” I closed the pointy end of the tweezers around the edge of the broken-off claw.

“I’m not sure I want to talk about that when you’re digging around in my chest.”

Despite what that could mean, his words did make me grin as I tugged on the piece of claw. The tweezers slipped, and Zayne jerked. “Sorry.”

He drew in a long, slow breath. “It’s okay.”

I tried again, getting the tweezers to latch on to the claw. “I’m kind of surprised an imp got an upper hand on you.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I was kind of distracted.”

“Not my fault.” I tugged again and felt the claw start to give.

“I’m going to say that it was partially both our faults.” Zayne tensed.

The damn claw wasn’t budging. “Just how distracted were you?”

Zayne hesitated. “I think you could...feel just how distracted I was.”

Hand stilling, I looked up at him. “Yeah, I could.”

The centers of his cheeks flushed a faint pink. “Well, there’s your answer.”

A slow grin tugged at my lips. “You’re blushing.”

His eyes closed. “You know, most people wouldn’t point that out.”

“I’m not most people.”

“I’ve noticed.” A smirk appeared. “Haven’t figured out if that’s a good or bad thing yet.”

“Wow,” I murmured, and then I yanked hard. The claw slipped free as Zayne cursed under his breath. “Got it.”

Stepping back, I held up the claw as I wrinkled my nose. “That’s supergross.”

“Thank you.” He exhaled loudly and then reached for the towels, but I beat him to it.

Setting the tweezers aside, I picked up the towel and stopped the new flow of blood that was leaking out of him. The gnarly wound in his chest was already sealing up.

His hands fell back to his sides as I wiped up the blood. I healed quickly, but it was insane how quickly Wardens recovered. The color was already returning to his face.

“You look a lot better.”

“I feel better.” His gaze caught and held mine and then his gaze dropped, and I felt the intensity of his stare, all the way to the tips of my toes, before he dragged his gaze back to mine. He folded his hand around my wrist. “You have blood all over your hands.”

I didn’t say anything as he took the towel from me, and I didn’t fight him when he set the towel aside and led me to the sink basin.

“I can wash my own hands,” I told him.

“I know.” He turned on the water and then opened a drawer and pulled out a tub of foaming hand soap. “Did you get any sleep?”

“A little.” I looked up and saw us in the reflection. His head was bowed, brow lowered in concentration as he pumped soap onto my hands.

I got a little lost staring at our reflections, him so much taller and larger than me, blond and golden where I was darker. My gaze dropped to our hands as he slid his over mine. The water bubbled pink and red as it swirled down the drain. He washed my hands until there wasn’t a speck of blood left, and then he retrieved a fresh towel from another drawer.

Drying my hands, he turned me away from the mirror. “You know what you asked me earlier?” His hands left my wrists and slid up my forearms. “About why I didn’t come to you tonight?”

My heart rate sped up as I nodded.

“I couldn’t, because I didn’t think I could lie beside you after what happened on that rooftop.” His voice was deeper, thicker, as his hands gripped my upper arms. He lifted me with ease, sitting me on the edge of the vanity. “And not touch you.”

The heat from earlier returned, dancing over my skin. “What...what if I wanted you to touch me?”

His eyes flared an intense pale blue. “And see, that’s the problem.”

“Why?”

He lifted his hands, tangling his fingers in my hair as he dragged the strands back from my face. “Because we shouldn’t, Trin. It will complicate things. Look at tonight—we weren’t paying attention. The imp could’ve taken you. You could’ve been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“I was, and that shouldn’t have happened.” His gaze searched mine. “I should know better, Trin. I know what happens when I don’t have my head in the game. We make a good team—”

“We really do,” I cut in, curling my fingers along the edge of the vanity. “We make a damn good team.”

“Which is why this would be a bad idea.”

“I think that makes it a damn good idea.”

His laugh was strained. “Of course you would, but it’s more than that.”

“I’m not your father—”

“Jesus, I’d hope not.”

My eyes narrowed. “And I’m not Layla,” I said, and something raw flickered across his face, gone before I knew what it was. “You just need to learn how to multitask.”

“That’s all?” He laughed.

I nodded.

“Even if I learned to do that, you’ve been through a lot.” One of his hands skated up my neck. Fingertips followed the line of my jaw. “I’m older than you.”

“Oh, come on. You’re barely older than me.”

Thick lashes lowered as he traced my cheekbone, drawing a fine shiver from me. “You came here to find Misha, and you trust me to keep you safe while you’re doing that. This feels—”

“Right,” I suggested helpfully. “Because that’s how it feels to me. Like I’ve been...” My cheeks flushed. “It feels right, Zayne. Are you saying it feels wrong?”

“No. I’m not saying that.” Those lashes lifted, and there was intent in the way those pale eyes locked on to mine, to the shadows forming around his mouth. “You want to kiss me again, don’t you?”

Every muscle in my body went tense. “Yes. I want—”

Zayne kissed me.

It was such a soft, beautiful kiss at first, his lips brushing across mine once, and then twice, and then the kiss deepened and there was nothing questioning or tentative about it. The kiss felt scorching, demanding and soul burning, a raw combination of pent-up need and explosive want.

He pulled me to the very edge of the vanity as he came forward, pressing with his body between my legs, and when he kissed me again, he left me breathless and exposed like a live wire. I curled my legs around his lower back as I slid a hand down his chest, mindful of the healing wound. His hand slid under my arm, down my back, and I thought I might be getting drunk on his kisses.