‘‘She can’t?’’ Gabriel asked, looking from her to me. ‘‘Why can’t she?’’

Gods, he was handsome. That warm brown skin, those liquid silver eyes, along with a strong jaw and gently squared chin that for some reason made me feel suspiciously weak in the knees. But he was a dragon, a wyvern, and I was Cyrene’s shadow. I moved a step away and tried to ignore the sorrow that filled me.

‘‘Why can’t she?’’ Cyrene looked at him as if he was insane. ‘‘Because she doesn’t like men, that’s why. She’s never had sex.’’

My face burned as I closed my eyes for a minute, fighting with the desire to shadow. ‘‘Cyrene, no one is interested in this.’’

‘‘Well, I certainly think Gabriel is going to be interested if he’s under the delusion that you are his mate! I know it’s hard for you to be open about this, but evidently there is a major misunderstanding about you. We owe it to them to be truthful; these people are our friends, after all.’’

‘‘István broke your neck,’’ I pointed out, momentarily sidetracked from the hell my life had suddenly become.

‘‘Yes, but I’m sure he didn’t mean it,’’ she said, turning to him. ‘‘You didn’t, did you?’’

István nodded, frowned, then shook his head. ‘‘I thought you were attacking Jim.’’

‘‘There, you see? You know I would never want to put you on the spot, dear Mayling, but now is not the time for shyness. Do not be afraid to admit the truth.’’

‘‘Oh, gods,’’ I swore to myself, sinking into the nearest chair. Why me? my mind shrieked. Why did Cyrene pick now to bring up this issue?

‘‘I . . .’’ Gabriel looked as stupefied as just about everyone else. ‘‘Are you sure?’’ he finally asked Cyrene, his confused gaze on me.

‘‘Oh, yes,’’ Cyrene answered, taking up a position next to me in order, undoubtedly, to show support. ‘‘I’m quite sure. May’s never been with a man physically, even though more than a few have wanted her.’’

‘‘The things I miss while I’m in the bathroom,’’ Aisling murmured as she took her seat again.

I hunched over, dropping my head to my hands in mortification, regretting to the very depths of my being the day I had the bright idea of telling Cyrene that I had never had, and never would have, a sexual relationship with a man. ‘‘Please, Cyrene! No more!’’

‘‘So wait, she’s a virgin?’’ Jim asked in an awestruck voice, coming over to snuffle my hands. ‘‘Wow. I haven’t seen a professional virgin since we were in Hungary.’’

‘‘Well, not strictly speaking, because when she was created, I wasn’t . . . er . . .’’ Cyrene had a rare and lamentably late moment of circumspection, and thankfully stopped that line of thought before I died of embarrassment right there before her.