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“Abused? Yeah. That’ll fucking do it. Shit’s downright hilarious.”

“Why?”

Refusing to answer me, we hold each other’s eyes in a defiant silence.

Because he’s so badass? Khaos Pierson definitely looks like he can take care of himself, as well as anyone else he chooses to protect, but somebody hurt him bad enough to leave these marks. Meanwhile, his hands don’t have a scratch on them and they’re not swollen. Whatever happened to him, he didn’t fight back.

“You really were mugged?”

He dips his head. “That’s what I said.”

I inhale, then exhale, both acts louder than necessary. Maybe he was mugged, but unless he’s been getting mugged regularly, there’s another reason he’s so banged up all the time.

Clearly, he doesn’t trust me enough to confide in me. Not that I’ve given him a reason to. We’ve been at odds with each other since the first time we came face-to-face.

I drop the interrogation for an icebreaker.

“Guess this means I won’t be getting that thong, huh?”

The corner of his lips thaw enough to lift the slightest bit.

“I had a really good one in mind, too.”

One hundred percent unconvinced of that, I ask, “Did you?” If it were true, why didn’t he buy it?

“Uh-huh.”

“Describe it to me.”

Khaos doesn’t say a word while I gently wipe the gash under his eye, his gaze heavy the entire time. The stubble on his jaw tickles the bottom of my palm with each swipe, and I have to stop myself from leaning into him in any way. Warm air caressing the outside of my thumb heats me to the core.

Focus.

“Sounds fancy,” I joke when I reach over to rinse the rag.

“What does?”

“The thong.”

No recognition registers, so I add, “The one you were planning to buy me.”

Khaos frowns, and says, “Oh, yeah.”

Okay…

Obviously, there was no plan to buy me underwear, but why doesn’t he remember the conversation we’re literally in the middle of?

Is he just as affected as I am? Or does he have a concussion?

When the water runs clear, I squeeze out the rag and start cleaning the blood at his hairline. It comes off easily and I don’t find any cuts, marks, or anything else that’d explain its presence.

“Whose blood is this?”

When Khaos doesn’t answer, I pull back to look him in the eyes.

They fall from mine to my lips, lingering there.

“Khaos?”