A roar in her ears intensified then receded, dizziness assailing her as carefully withheld emotions spilled free, overwhelming and intense. She stumbled, and Ronan—Sean—steadied her with an iron grip. “You’re Sean?” she whispered, dazed. But it all made so much sense in hindsight. She’d been so blinded by him, her thoughts so scattered, she’d never once registered that her senses didn’t buzz forewarning as they did with other nightwalkers. Hysteria surged, a bitter laugh almost spilling free. He wasn’t just any other vampire. He was the Ancient One, a dark lord whose unearthly aura was effortlessly contained. He had more power, more control and more knowledge than she’d probably ever have even if she did happen to live to his present age. It was rumored he was a freak of nature, a gifted elder vampire, to have thwarted so many enemies and survived such a lifespan. “Sean Edward Ronan Maximillus—”
