She hoped he was.
He looked up, hand dropping languidly away.
“Well,” he said slowly, his enunciation precise. His eyes still had a strange silver gleam to them. “You really are full of surprises.”
The sight of him so unapologetic only added to her brewing rage.
She went over to the bar, pouring herself a generous amount of something from a very fancy-looking bottle.
She sipped it. It was sharp and bitter. She wished she’d chosen something else; she’d always preferred wine, but Ferron didn’t appear to keep any. Likely not strong enough for his taste.
She braced herself and gulped it, not caring at all about the way it curdled her tongue, burning down her throat and into her empty stomach.
She squeezed her eyes shut and then poured more, drinking it almost as quickly.
She wanted to
