Trehan Daciano now knew a secret only a handful of others shared. How had he gotten under her skin like that? And why was he so adamant about avenging her? “There is no us, vampire. Again, I’m here under duress.” “Tell me who hurt you.” “You’ve known me for twenty-four hours. Yet you’re willing to wade into danger, risking your life to avenge me?” “Yes.” “I’m not a vampire. I can’t wrap my mind around this spontaneous protectiveness.” “That part is not much different from a demon’s mate.” Apparently, I don’t get that either. “Twenty-two years ago, my Bride was born. For two decades she’s been without my protection. From what I can glean, that span of years has been treacherous for her. Simply put: someone hurt her—I need to make that being suffer in unspeakable ways.” Daciano’s strength and will were nearly palpable, a heady combination. She finally understood why some women were hopelessly attracted to dangerous men. Not that she was. But she could see it.
