She took a deep calming breath, and he noted the lift and thrust of her breasts beneath the shapeless gown. He stomped on his body‘s attempt to react. Now wasn‘t the time.

“What do you want?”

Her voice sounded calm, but he could hear the fluttering panic of her heartbeat, the breaths coming too quickly. Her reaction didn‘t bother him. After six hundred years, you got used to the terror of others.

She still hadn‘t looked into his eyes, but he decided not to press the issue. He strode over to one of the chairs in her sitting area and sat. Maybe if he were lower than she was, she‘d relax a little. He gestured toward the chair opposite him. “Sit.”

As expected, as soon as he moved from the door, she made a dash for it. He exhaled deeply. Humans were so predictable. With a flick of his mind, he slammed the door shut and locked it. She yanked and pulled, but to no avail.

Cinn turned and pressed her back against the door. “I could scream.”

“I could stop you.” Without his permission, Dacian‘s gaze fixed on her lips. He had many ways to stop her, some more enjoyable than others.

Finally giving up, she firmed those surprisingly full lips and marched over to the chair he‘d indicated. She sat. Then she looked into his eyes. He made sure he didn‘t blink.

Frown lines formed between her eyes. Those lines fascinated him. How many centuries had it been since he‘d had human reflexes? Now his face was a smooth mask, never betraying emotions, unless he was using those emotions to manipulate others. Truth was, he had few emotions left other than rage and lust. Good enough for him.

“Your eyes are dark blue, almost black. They look normal.” She didn‘t try to hide her shock as she took a closer look. “And no fangs?”

Time to ease her worries with a little charm. “No fangs.” He smiled, the smile he‘d used on women for six hundred years to get what he wanted from them. “You saw me when I was a little…upset.” Try really pissed.

Her gaze slid across his face, and then she looked away. He knew what she was seeing.

“I choose to keep the scars.”

She was startled into looking back at him. “Why?”

Dacian shrugged. He should‘ve let it go. No need to get into things she didn‘t have to know. But now that he‘d brought it up, he‘d finish it. “I can heal without scarring, but I chose not to. I kept them to remember.” He stopped.

Remember what? The question was written all over her face. He didn‘t answer it.

Suddenly, she seemed to realize she was talking to him as though he was an ordinary guy. She stiffened. “What does Sparkle want? And what happened to Asima?”