There is something about her . . . something that makes my demons sleep. I don’t remember the last time I felt so calm in someone’s presence. Moving my right hand to the back of her neck, I bury my fingers into her hair. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t flinch as I expect her to, only watches me. There is no way she’s a spy. Her face is like an open book, and, as I have already concluded, she can’t lie worth a damn.
