I thought of our late night chats, of the edge of devotion in his eyes when he promised to save me. I thought of his thumb against my chin, the heat in his eyes when he’d tasted my blood. What he’d said about my exposed skin, all the smiles he’d given me—the secret ones when no one was looking and the gentle ones that softened his whole face. “But you’ve been flirting with me.” His eyes narrowed. “I most certainly have not!”
