Though she was asleep on the bed, she still wore that strange dress. Somehow, it seemed far more fitting now that she lay sprawled upon the red blanket. Her golden hair was spread around her, and a flush of pink bloomed on her cheeks. A book lay by her side, open and still waiting for her to turn the page. He remained in the doorway, fearful that she’d wake up if he took another step. Some assassin. She hadn’t even bothered to stir. But there was nothing of the assassin in her face. Not a trace of aggression or bloodlust lay across her features. He knew her somehow. And he knew she wouldn’t
...more
