Chapter 13

• Devin paced by the painting for what was probably the fiftieth time. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! What the hell is wrong with me? I went there to get rid of her and instead I fixed her tent and gave her free run of my space. He stopped and stared at the painting, the exact image of the woman he had just spoke to. Rayne? Not, rain, but the way she pronounced it, Rayne. The summer storm had brought Rayne, which was too ironic—even for him.
• He stepped directly in front of the painting and leaned in until he was looking at her face. He squinted at it. How? How the hell did I paint her so precisely? It was as if he’d been holding a photo of her in the other hand. What the hell was going on? Did he want to know, probably not, but he was going to find out.
• His eyes, without permission, skimmed over the image of her body. He’d gotten each curved proportion dead on, but that wasn’t what had his guts churning like a tornado. This feeling was caused by her eyes. They were so pale, so reflective, so not the color normal humans had. Am I being paranoid? Most likely. He knew ordinary humans had blue eyes, but hers weren’t the normal blue, just as his weren’t any typical hue for humans. Yet, he couldn’t help but be drawn to her eyes and wonder. His clan had pale eyes, the purebreds that was, and he’d never seen anyone not a part of his gene pool with a shade so pale. That shade. He glared at the canvas again.