Author's Point of View

Lysander was standing beside the window, one hand resting against the glass. His eyes were still cold and cruel, but Zerina noticed something different this time. There was no jeweled hardness in their depths.

She stepped inside cautiously, and had no idea what to do in the dimly lit room. She felt his hand touch the side of her neck, a hint of colour washed into her pale cheeks. Her breath hitched instantly.

Surrounded by silence, she could almost hear his ...