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... art to kill him, though Guevara had made it clear that killing him would be a mercy.


The black spots on Paul’s face started to spread even quicker. Even without a mirror, he could feel the changes on his own face. He reached out his hand, but a slight touch would make the black spots fester and cause a piercing pain. The more painful he was, the more he wanted to figure out what had happened to his face, and the more eager he was to touch it.


Finally, Paul suddenly darted out ...

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

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“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

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“Please, Ayleth.”

“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.

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