"I knew that already." Kanuna smiled and watched Samuel's face when he grabbed his hand again and started to wrap it. He'd wanted to know Samson's heritage when he asked where he was from, but realized belatedly that it was the wrong phrasing. He should know better. The Caribbean descendant made sense of the lovely brown tone of Samson's skin. The Belgium explained the freckles.
Kanuna's fingers twitched, wanting to touch them, and he figured, fuck it. Lifting his non-singed hand, he dragged the pad of his thumb over Samson's cheekbone with the spattering of freckles was most dense. "Kanuna," he replied in a lower voice, blue-gray eyes meeting dark. "I'm Cherokee."