There, standing in front of me, is Royce Kane. My stomach hits the floor and my cheeks flare to life. I can feel my blood drain all the way to the tips of my toes when our eyes connect. My heart slows in my chest. The hate is still there, the anger and pain, but now there’s something else happening. Something I’m not ready to acknowledge yet. His ice-blue eyes. Colder than the Atlantic Ocean, but hotter than the pits of Hell. His dark, unruly hair looks like his hands have brushed through it one too many times, and his big, lean body towers over everyone in the room—including the room itself.
...more
