Her mask was slim enough that he could see most of her pixieish features: high, defined cheekbones, an elegant jawline, and a gracefully pointed chin.
Yet her carnally red lips seemed out of place on her finely-boned face, more suited to a siren.
He couldn't tell if she'd be an incomparable beauty, not until she opened her eyes and removed her mask. No matter. For a male who enjoyed little, he was liking this inspection very well.
His gaze dipped to the delectable swell of her br**sts in that revealing top, and lingered. He noticed his hands were opening and closing of their own accord, as if he was imagining fondling those little mounds.
Touching her? A frown creased his brow. He shouldn't be reacting like this. He was unblooded, the walking dead-until he encountered his fated Bride.
At that time, his body would wake for her.
For centuries, Trehan had awaited a daughter of Dacia for himself. As his father had told him: "If it's meant to be, Mother Dacia will give you a Bride. Within our stone borders, you will find her. Until then, want for nothing and embrace the shadows."
Trehan had done that. I extinguished any foolish hopes. He'd all but put a Bride out of his mind.
So why was his gaze rapt on this otherlander's br**sts . . . ?
I must leave this place, complete my kill. Trehan had never missed a target. Besides, if she woke and saw him, he couldn't return home-unless he dispatched her. He had permission to leave and return, but only if he was unseen by any he left living.
There was one exception to the rule, but it was so ridiculous that it didn't warrant consideration.
Even as he mused these things, he inched closer to the bed. Before, he'd thought the beacon in the window had drawn him; now he wondered if this female had somehow been the draw.
Remember the mission! He finally pried his gaze away, only to realize he'd been so spellbound by her that he'd allowed his mist to fade. The carelessness! With a flare of unease, he turned back-
Her eyes flashed open, met his.
I am . . . seen. But zeii mea, my gods, what eyes she possessed! The irises were the lightest brown, ringed with stark black. He could stare into them for lifetimes.
Where had a thought like that come from?
She blinked thick black lashes up at him. "Oh! You scared me," she murmured in English.
Seen. Why hadn't he disappeared before she'd awakened? Why hadn't he remained invisible to her? Now he would be forced to kill her, or else never return home.
"You've come at last." Her lips curled into a grin that would've stolen his breath. If he still breathed. She raised her arms over her head, stretching sensually.
At last? Who did she think he was? She gazed up at him as if they knew each other. She gazed at him . . . with desire.
All at once, he understood why he hadn't disappeared, why he'd let his mist fade.
Because deep down, he'd wanted this creature to see him.
As she rose to a sitting position, her exotic braids and lustrous, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her locks were chestnut brown, threaded with strands of black, the colors complementing her distinctive eyes.
She reached for him, boldly laying her hands on his torso. When he perceived the warmth from her palms, he shuddered like a young vampire, unschooled with women-
Boom! . . . Boom! . . . Boom!
The floor seemed to quake beneath his feet, the walls to shake with deafening tremors.
Yet Trehan knew what was actually happening. The sound was his heart awakening for her, a drum beginning to thunder in his chest.
Beating again and again, faster, harder.
This ethereal creature had roused his body! Soon his lungs would fill with breath, his shaft with blood.
An otherlander belongs to me? A sorceress? He'd heard of worse pairings. Considering where he'd found her, she could have been a demoness.