Arrow Lake ou l'Optimisme

Not coal, but scars—the exposed skin around her eyes, the line racing up her head. Scars, marks of battle, though more precise than anything he's ever seen. There are combat scars, and love bites, but these are different entirely. They were done deliberately. And that.....

is quite intriguing indeed.

She speaks and he's riveted further. He draws nearer. What is my fate? he asks quietly, his voice pitching lower, more intimate—like someone speaking in a crowded, smoke-filled room. 

Donatien lifts his muzzle to trace the air, trace the lines of her face. Not touching, just tracing. But he is too close for comfort, and he knows it. He cannot help it. The scars are breathtaking in their savagery.

Mon Dieu. Who did zis to you? 

And can you do it to me?