Dahlia

He is watching me like he is remembering something I haven’t lived yet.

I tense immediately. If I’ve learned anything from the version of me that tried to murder me with her bare hands, it’s that familiar faces lie. They lie with your smile, your voice, your scent. So no, I don’t care how clean Alaric’s boots are. This one is a threat until proven otherwise.

“Who are you?” I ask, already bracing for bullshit.

His lips twitch like I’ve amused ...