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But when I blink, it's still there. He's hurt.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian," I whisper.

He must realize his mistake, letting that sliver of real emotion seep through the surface, because he breaks eye contact, dropping his gaze to my chest, and tightens his grip.

Running a finger of his other hand over my nipple, he says, "There's blood seeping through your t-shirt. How's normal working out for the Queen of the Bloodsluts?"

"About as well as you'd think," I force out through my constricted airway just before I hear a knock on the door.

"Room service!" the voice on the other side calls out.

Sebastian releases me, and I glare at him with my hand at the base of my neck, breath heaving, before moving toward the door. Before I can pull it open, his hand closes over mine, stopping me, and he looks through the peephole.

"You have a shitty sense of self-preservation," he says. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yeah…Declan."

His eyes narrow before he opens the door and retrieves the food from outside, removing the lid and taking a bite of one of the nachos before setting it down on the bed.

"Those are pretty good," he says.

But more importantly, it's the same tray with the same nachos I ate in bed with Luca last night long after they were cold.

"Yeah, you're welcome," I say, shrugging. "So, what now? For you, I mean. I have plans with my sister; she's already upset that I missed brunch and her pool day."

"You're acting strange," he says.

"I am strange," I tell him through a mouthful of food.

"Yeah, but…where did you say you were last night?"

"I was here."

"What happened to your chest?"

"I told you already," I say. "Someone sent me a bloody drink and said I was her queen. We hooked up and it got…well, bloody. In a fun-for-everyone kind of way. No one died, I promise."

"And that happened in this hotel?"

"Yes."

"In this room?"

"No. It was her room."

"Which floor was it on?"

"I'm sorry," I laugh. "I woke up at four in the afternoon. Do you think I remember what floor it was on? A low one, maybe. I think I remember taking the elevator up afterward."

"Okay…"

He stands there, watching me eat, the air thick with tension I refuse to acknowledge. He thinks I'm lying, and he's waiting for me to slip up.

"Are you jealous or something?" I tease, attempting to keep my tone casual.

"Yes," he says plainly.

I shoot him a puzzled look.