Lana
I stared at his face—too close, too full of confidence, too good at making my heartbeat jump in the wrong direction.
Jealous?
Of course I was jealous.
But I had my pride, too.
So I only lifted my chin slightly, held my breath, and answered in a flat tone, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, come on, Lana." His voice was low. Teasing. "I know your face when you're upset. And when you're pretending not to be."
"Sylas."
"Yes?"
"Shut up or I'll set your hair on fire."
He let out a soft laugh, as if the threat was a compliment. "So you admit I'm still handsome, even with my hair—oh wait, that was Lucen who's bald, wasn't it? Not me."
I took a deep breath and tried to walk away. But I stopped cold when he gently grabbed my arm.
"Just curious," he said quietly. "If I actually… liked those two succubi, would you care?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Because I hated the answer.
Because I knew the answer.
