Selis really didn't know what to think or do.
Should she keep pretending to be asleep . . . or should she open her eyes and confront the man sitting quietly at her bedside?
From the steady weight of his presence and the faint, unmistakable scent of steel and blood that clung to him, she already knew—it was Lucian.
She could almost feel his gaze on her, sharp and intense as ever, and yet . . . hesitant, softer than she ever thought he was capable of.
A wicked thought danced across her mind. Maybe she should tease him, draw him out, see what the unshakable Captain would do if she suddenly fluttered her lashes and caught him staring.
But Lucian, infuriatingly disciplined as always, did nothing. He just sat there like a statue, silent, his self-control stronger than her patience.
Her heart dipped with disappointment. So that night really was just lust, then? Just a moment of weakness, a call of flesh . . .
