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Chapter 12

Raine said, “You’re saying you don’t want me to get hurt. And you want me to take care of myself.” His voice was surprisingly quiet, almost a question.

“Well, yeah.” He’d thought that was obvious. Maybe it wasn’t. “Anything I can help with? Ice, or a heating pad, or something?”

“Heat,” Raine said, amused. “A Frost. But you like heat. And sugar.”

“I like feeling warm.” Don held out a hand, let a shimmer of wintry crystals bloom over his fingertips: blue-white and delicate as the first step onto a bridge. “I don’t mind the cold, but that’s every day. Want me to put ice on a bruise? Anything that’s hurting?”

“It’s not bad,” Raine said. “I—I have practice. At taking care of bruises. And I heal fast. You like the notevery day. The extraordinary, for you.” His voice was still softer than usual, no real edge; his eyes were softer too, a complicated shimmer of wide green and gold color.