“Am I dead?” I croak. My mouth is dry, and I’m too scared to take a deep breath.
“No, sweet Rose, you are not dead,” a deep, masculine voice purrs above me. “Open your eyes, dark beauty.”
I grunt. “Dark beauty, huh?” I reply instead of opening my eyes. “I’m far from beautiful.”
The male chuckles. His deep voice somehow soothes me.
“You are. You’re quite remarkable in an unassuming way.”
“There went your chances at getting me to be sweet,” I counter. “You’re either blind, or you’re an idiot.”
“Your attitude excites me. Now, open your eyes. I saved your life.”
Oh, well, damn. Guess I better oblige.
My eyes peel open and, hovering above me, is a man with long, white hair and porcelain skin. His eyes aren’t one color but many hues of green, yellow, and red. It’s the weirdest thing. The
