-Ronan Hale:
" You think I wanted to be the one touching her." Lucien stood up slowly, speaking in a low, slow tone that made me tense on instinct.
His movements were unhurried, almost lazy, as he slumped his book onto the table, closing while making sure to put a bookmark in it, his fingers dragging off the cover like he was reluctant to let it go. Then, without a word, he took a slow step toward me.
His blue eyes stared into mine, dark.
For some reason, I took a step back.
I never step back.
I'm Ronan Hale, I do not step back in front of any danger.
And here I am stepping back because Lucien stepped forward.
But there was something about the way he moved—measured, deliberate, predatory—that sent a strange, uneasy feeling curling in my stomach. His blue eyes locked onto mine, intense and unreadable, and suddenly the air in the room felt too thick.
"Yeah," he said, his voice deep, almost a rumble. "You're right."
I narrowed my eyes. "Right about what?"
