I had to be careful not to pierce her skin with my claws, but that was second nature after our year of association. "No, it's not you, love. It will never be you." "Then what?" she asked, settling back down. Her left hand went to her cheek, and I pulled her hand away, kissing the burn. It was warmer than the rest of her. I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, resting my hand on the side of her head again. "Nothing, love. I'm just glad you're okay." She bit her lip, looking away from me, and I became concerned. I tried to turn her head back towards me, so she would look at me, but she refused to move. "Clarissa? What's wrong? Did I say something, or—" She pressed a finger to my lips, turning back to look at me. I was worried. There was something broken in her eyes. Something that wasn't my strong, capable Clarissa, able to fight off sadists and rapists without worry— Oh, God, no! "Issa," I whispered, holding her head between my hands and sitting up straighter so I was looking her in the eye.
