Lucian’s teasing tone caused Starr to jerk with surprise and spill the potion she had been mixing for Petru’s migraines. She looked up to see Lucian and Sorin standing in the doorway of the circular room of the tower, where she now spent most of her days. “I didn’t sleep well.” She gave them a small smile, praying her eyes didn’t mirror the thoughts dancing through her head. Their blood-bond with her was probably strong enough to allow them to read her thoughts if they chose, but she was almost confident her mind was stronger. After all, psychic abilities came naturally to vampires, while werewolves only received them by ingesting vampire blood. She straightened to her full height, just two inches shorter than Lucian, who stood five-ten. Sorin still towered over the both of them, even slumped against the doorway. Her eyes traced the way the thin cotton shirt clung to his muscles. The white material didn’t have a prayer of hiding the thick growth of black hair covering his body.
