Everything about him was masculine and strong—and overwhelming. From his size to his intensity to his looks, Adare O’Cearbhaill was as male as male could get.

He took her breath away, and that was on a good day.

She cleared her throat. “I know I owe you for saving my life, and I’ve tried to stay out of yours, so let’s just continue that way.”

He looked her over. This close, tiny flecks of silver showed in his black eyes. “You’ve lost weight and you’re pale.”

Okay, so she looked like crap. “Thanks so much.”

“Grace.” Dark tone, definite warning. “I’ve given you the freedom you wanted, and this is as accommodating as I know how to be. If necessary, I will take you in hand.”

Her head jerked and she stood, wanting to tower over him for once. Even so, they were pretty much eye to eye, though he was sitting. “You arrogant, back-in-the-dark-ages jackass.” It felt damn good for fury to flow through her veins, so she let the heat have full reign. “I am not yours to do anything with. Not at all. This is not a zillion years ago, the time of the Highlanders, and I don’t answer to you.” In her anger, she put both hands on her hips, and then winced as pain rocketed through her left arm.

His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Nothing,” she snapped.

Quick as a whip, he reached out and grasped her belt loop, tugging her toward him. Then, slowly, deliberately, he circled her bicep and gently pulled her hand away from her hip. His head lifted slowly. “Jesus. What did you do?”

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Adare leaned in to look at Grace’s wrist, which was a multitude of colors from yellow to purple and even black. Gingerly, he started to roll it, and she gasped, turning a frightening white. Her knees trembled so much, he could see the shaking through her jeans.

She swallowed. “I need to sit down.”

He stood and gently prodded her into her seat, following on his knees in front of her. “I think it’s broken.” As lightly as he could, he ran his finger over the bones, wincing as he found the break. Maybe one of a couple. “What happened?”

“I fell on the ice on the way inside that stupid bar.” She put her head back on the chair and closed her eyes, waves of pain cascading off her. “It happens.”

The woman had been dealing with a broken wrist the entire night? Why? “I don’t understand. Why don’t you heal it?” He’d given her immortality five years ago, and no doubt she’d be fully charged with healing cells by now. This wasn’t making sense. “This is why you were trying to purchase vampire blood in the middle of nowhere?”