“Nixon, calm down!” Max pressed, pushing him back down against the bed. He was upset. Very upset.
“She’s right,” I added. “You just woke up. You cannot afford to be working yourself up over this-”
Before I could finish my sentence, my brother gently grabbed the bottom of my chin and tilted my face to the side. He already knew where the mark would be.
“Let me see,” he said in a murmur as he looked at the mark. “So deep,” he hissed. “How long was he attached to you, Min?” he asked me.
I could barely look at him. “Not long,” I answered in a hushed voice and then self-consciously pressed my hand to my neck to cover the punctures.
“Did you give him permission to…did he force you?” He asked.
“Force…no…no! Of course not!” I insisted, suddenly embarrassed by this conversation. “I…I guess he
