# Chapter Eight
He sent the maid to bring food, and it was terribly tempting. Between us sparkled the silver tray, with the steam of roast meat and golden bread, with sauce in it and the herbs that had made my stomach ache. A royal feast my torture.
He sat in the chair opposite me, one forearm casually upheld in the armrest, his dark eyes fixed on me with predatory waiting. The afternoon light streaming through the high windows etched brutal lines on his face and revealed the cruel type of beauty which only increased his danger. He raised a brow, faint, but haughty, and motioned to the food.
"Eat."
And I gazed steadily, unblinking, at him. My llips clenched painfully close. I would not give him the satisfaction.
There was a vague smirk at the corner of his mouth. He took a slice of me
