A scowl marred his forehead. Aye. She was a beauty. She was also a powerful fey princess who’d managed to catch him off guard once.
It wasn’t going to happen again.
“Fallon?” Cyn murmured, his voice deep and laced with an accent that hadn’t been heard in this world for centuries. She heaved a sigh at the sound of his voice, but she remained stubbornly asleep. Cyn knelt at her side, knowing better than to touch her. The feel of that satin skin beneath his fingertips was guaranteed to make him forget he was pissed as hell at her little trick. “Fallon,” he growled, his voice a command. “Wake up.”
She gave a small jerk, her lashes fluttering upward to reveal the striking amber eyes with the shimmering flecks of emerald.
For a long moment she studied him in stunned confusion.
Understandable.
Most people found Cyn . . . intimidating.
At six foot three he had a powerful chest and thick muscles that marked him as a warrior. His thick mane of dark blond hair hung halfway down his back except for the front strands that he kept woven into tight braids that framed his face.
His features were chiseled along blunt lines with a square jaw and high cheekbones. His brow was wide and his jade green eyes heavily lashed. Females seemed to find him handsome enough, but there was never any mistake that he was a ruthless killer.
She sucked in a shaky breath as her gaze lowered to the barbaric Tuatha Dé Danann tattoos that curled and swirled in a narrow green pattern around his upper arms, emphasizing the perfect alabaster of his skin.
His lips twisted, wondering what she would think of the golden dragon tattoo with crimson wings that was currently hidden beneath the thick mane of his hair.
He’d earned the mark of CuChulainn that was branded onto his right shoulder blade after he’d survived the battles of Durotriges.
It marked him as a clan chief.
“Vampire,” she muttered, as if having difficulty remembering who he was.
He narrowed his gaze, wondering what game she was playing. “Cyn.”
“Yes . . . Cyn.” Her confusion was replaced with a horror as if she were suddenly remembering who he was. A horror that only intensified when she belatedly realized they were both butt-naked. “Dear goddess.” She shoved herself to a sitting position, curling her arms around her knees as she glared at him with angry accusation. “What have you done to me?”
“Me?” He made a sound of disbelief, unconsciously reaching to push a strand of golden hair off her flushed cheek.
“No . . .” With a flare of panic she was scrambling backward, a genuine fear flaring through the amber eyes. “Stay away.”
Cyn muttered a low curse. Her pretense of confusion was annoying the hell out of him, but he didn’t like the thought that she was afraid of him.
Strange when he’d devoted several centuries to terrifying his enemies.
“Settle down, princess,” he murmured softly.
“Settle down?” A flush stained her beautiful face. “I wake up naked in the company of a strange vampire far away from my home and you want me to settle down?” She bit her bottom lip, her flush deepening to crimson. “Did you—”
“What?”
“Violate me?”
What the hell? Cyn surged upright. Six foot three of quivering, offended, naked male.
“No, I didn’t damned well violate you,” he rasped. “And if I had, I can assure you that you would not only remember, but you’d be on your knees thanking me for the privilege.”
Her fear was replaced by a more familiar disdain. As if he was a bug that needed to be squashed beneath her royal heel.
“Why, you arrogant . . . leech.”
He folded his arms over his massive chest. “At least I’m not a stuck-up prig of a fairy.”
“If you didn’t violate me, why are we naked?” she demanded, careful to keep her gaze locked on his face. Was she afraid his bare body might strike her blind? “And how did we get here?”