Mary Lennox was a sensual creature who called to his baser desires. On the outside he was very much a Seelie Fey. On the inside, however, he was his dark counterpart. There was no denying that his father’s blood ran inside him. Thick. Black. Hot. Coyly, Mary looked up at him, her long, lush black lashes batting ingenuously. Behind the long lashes were dark blue eyes that were shining with anything but innocence. She was completely different from her sisters. Nothing at all like them. He wondered if she knew it. If it bothered her. As she pressed back against the wall, deeper into the shadows where the darkness engulfed her, he knew that it didn’t. She was what she was. Her own woman. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she murmured, and the not-so-subtle huskiness of her voice called to his cock. “Your sister. Where is she?” She frowned, then brightened, pushing toward him with her voluptuous body. “Have you lost her already?” He couldn’t think when her breasts grazed his chest.
