Lana's POV
Then he smiled.
I knew that smile. That mischievous little tilt of his lips, the one that screamed trouble without making a sound. Damon didn’t even bother to argue with me this time, he just gave me that lazy, devil-may-care look, dimples dipping faintly, and strolled casually toward the bathroom like he owned the place.
My chest was rising and falling faster than I wanted it to despite him doing as I had asked, then came another knock.
Knock. Knock.
I swallowed, adjusted the hem of my nightgown, and forced my feet to move. When I finally opened the door, I was greeted by the warm, familiar presence of Sir Connor. His silver hair glimmered faintly under the hallway light, his sharp blue eyes crinkling kindly.
“Ah, Lana, my dear,” he greeted with a soft smile. “I came to
