“Because you are Camellia Rosegarten,” he said simply, leaning back against the door.

“Some answer,” I huffed. “So, you don’t sleep in your bed. Do you hang from the rafters like a bat?” I flapped my hands at my sides like wings.

“No,” he growled, his calm façade slipping. “No, when I have to rest, I hide, if at all possible.” He looked angry with himself or me or the world. “Fuck, I tell you too much,” he exclaimed and popped his fists against the door. “I tell you too much.”

He cast his eye...