Naomi“Stop,” Fraser commands while squinting against the dim amber light dancing over the stone tiles now speckled with glass. “I didn’t–I’m sorry,” I rush out, choked by a rush of shame and also the fact he’s practically pinning me to the ground beneath him. My powers shutter, still weak from my journey here and also using them so carelessly, but my emotions take the reins at present, and all I feel is a heartsick kind of guilt that’s entirely new and utterly infectious. I curl into myself while he pulls away, careful not to snag his skin on the powder-fine shards of glass. He picks up his frames like they’re the most precious thing in the world, and maybe they are because his expression is just as fragile as the frames now bent in the palm of his hand. Oh, Goddess, what have I done?“I can fix it,” I whisper, but the words fall flat before they leave my tongue. He once told me his other senses were acute, and I believe him, especially now because he replies in a way that makes
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