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“Wait, you went through my drawers?”

“I needed a shirt!” I snapped. “You ripped my fucking dress, remember?”

“Mmm,” he made that affirmative sound again, returning to etching my skin with a smirk.

“You still owe me a dress, by the way. You said you’d buy me a new one.”

“Fine, we’ll go shopping. But I would like the rest of my psych eval first, please.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, laying back down once more.

“I’d say that you've probably got some kind of identity crisis going on, too. You don’t mindmecalling you Ashe, but you don’t like when others do it. Probably because of how you have to separate the two sides of yourself, or whatever.”

He let out a long, agitated breath through his nose.

“Anything else, Dr. Phil?”

“Yeah, actually. I’d probably bet money on my guess that you were raised by a single mother.”

“And how the fuck would you know that, Zarina?”

“First of all, watch your tone.” I snapped, and he chuckled again. “But, you seem to enjoy the company of older men, like father figures, or whatever. Every other member of the MC I’ve seen you with has been like, much older than you. Plus, I feel like you’ve got a bit of a soft spot for vulnerable women. Like Jess,” I nodded with my head towards her empty desk.

“Jess is a talented artist,” he shrugged. “She’s had a rough go at life. All she needed was someone to take a chance on her.”

“Mmhm. So was I right about the single motherslashabsent father situation?”

Ashe ignored my question and continued to work on my hip, suddenly needing to concentrate very hard. I quickly gave up on expecting an answer out of him, and went back to staring at the ceiling.

Maybe I had gone too far.

I always let far too many words out of my mouth than necessary.

“Done,” he sighed a few moments later, spraying my skin with a cool liquid and then rubbing it down again.

“Already?”

He nodded once as I sat up, gesturing to the mirror on the wall with a tilt of his head. “Have a look.”

With a quiet squeal of excitement, I hopped off the bed and rushed to the mirror, moving in close so I could see.

“A shark?” I asked as Ashe came up behind me.

“Sharks are constantly moving. Observing their surroundings and then adapting.” He reached around and brushed a finger across my hip. “They’re not intimidated by anything or anyone. They’re arguably the most perfectly constructed creature in nature.”

I looked up to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“This is how you see me?”

“I may not have your…” he paused, smiling, “keenpowers of observation. But from what I’ve seen so far, yes.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to pretend like this wasn’t the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me.

Most of the compliments I’d ever received were strictly aimed at my looks, my wardrobe, my hair. This was something so new to me, that I didn’t realise how much it affected me until I had to stifle a sob at the most basic of kind words.

“Thank you, Ashe.”

“Sharks also have paranormally good eyesight,” he said teasingly. “Which I think describes you to a tee.”