“She’s scared. It’s the middle of the night and she’s not even dressed. What do you think you’re doing, grabbing her like that?” Severin slid a little closer, moving as lightly as a dancer. “Oh, you mean instead of grabbing you?” Ben flinched as though he’d been slapped. “I don’t know what you think you’re—” “Benjamin,” Severin said, his voice dropping low. His face was inhumanly beautiful, his eyes as cold as the sky above the clouds, where the atmosphere is too thin to breathe. “I have heard every word you’ve ever said to me. Every honeyed, silver-tongued word.”
