Positioned on his knees with his right eye pressed against the keyhole to Zeb’s private bedroom, Nolan saw nothing out of the ordinary. The young man was asleep in his bed. His head was covered in a black-and-white bandana—tufts of blond hair were sweaty at the top of his spine. His torso and hands were covered in a white, summer sheet. One shoulder was exposed, which clearly sported the netlike scars that Nolan had observed before. The stolen flesh from Zeb’s shoulder was mostly pink, and less shocking. Nolan studied Zeb at sleep, observing the young man as he rested on his stomach. A light snore echoed within the room. Sun bled in from the open blinds and cracked windows. The blond rays illuminated the young man within the bed, covering his sheeted form.
Why was Nolan excited just from
