Caspian leaned towards her a fraction, then stopped. “Tell me, how are you settling in?”
She blinked. It was such a normal question. “Er. Just fine, thank you for your hospitality. You’ve been very generous.”
She stood and paced, just to put some distance between them.
He tilted his head, assessing her. “I’m very rich, you know. You can buy yourself anything you like now.”
Instead of telling him how arrogant that sounded, she only said, “Thank you. Your generosity is appreciated.”
She glanced down at her wrist, which seemed like the most logical spot to harvest blood. She cringed, wondering how much it was going to hurt. “So how do we do this?”
“Are you frightened?”
“Not at all,” she lied.
She held out her wrist, bracing herself.
Caspian rose and came to stand before her. She waited for him to say or do something, but he didn’t move a muscle.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked suspiciously.
He took another step towards her, bringing them nearly nose to nose.
Caspian smiled cruelly, tracing her jaw with a finger. “You,” he said simply.
Elizabeth’s eyes flicked down to his mouth, his lips. “What do you want from me?”
There was something about him, something she was inexplicably drawn to. The gods were cruel to make a demon look like that and give him such a rotten heart.
Silence stretched between them, his eyes searching hers.
She looked away, unable to take the intensity of his gaze any longer.
His finger trailed under her chin, and he tilted her face up to his. He leaned in, and she froze in shock as he looked like he was going to kiss her.
Slowly, she felt his soft lips against hers, the barest of touches, before he retreated.
He had just kissed her. Now he stood there, looking at her tenderly with those molten silver eyes as if he wanted to do it again.
What in the Seven Hells was going on? Where had the brooding master of the castle gone?
She looked into his eyes, her lips parting in confusion.
She wasn’t sure what made her lean in, but she closed the distance, and then her lips were on his. His lips moved so gently against hers that a soft sigh escaped her lips.
He tasted like fire and sin and everything forbidden.
His kisses grew more urgent, and she responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hand found the back of her neck, drawing her closer.
He smelled like wood smoke and expensive soap.
Her hands roamed down his chest, over his back, gripping his back and holding him close. When she trailed back over his broad chest, she felt the chest hair peeking above the V of his tunic.
She pulled back to look at him and was surprised to see him smirking at her. His expression reeked of arrogance. As if she were a prize already won.
Her hands stilled and dropped off his chest.
She felt as though she had been doused in cold water. What had she been thinking? Kissing a demon? He drankblood.
