"Please, Nico. Look at me."
The voice had changed. It was warm, like honey, like a late-summer sunset, like the first rush of heat from a campfire.
It was Cupid.
No.
It was love.
Nico turned slowly, and there stood Will Solace, his golden hair lit oh-so-perfectly in the dreamlike daylight of Salona. He wore the red smiling-sun T-shirt that Nico bought him as a joke, and that pair of camouflage shorts with the frayed hems.