“So?” She licked her lips, her expression suddenly guarded. “He happens to be a gentleman. Unlike you.”
Roke studied her pale face. What was she trying to hide? “How many times has he been down here?”
“Only once.” She stepped away from the bars, her arms wrapping around her slender waist. “He came down to ask what I wanted for dinner.”
“And in that short time you managed to bewitch him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she denied with more force than was necessary. “I can’t use my magic in this cell.”
Was she joking?
His gaze made a reluctant trip over her small form, which was perfectly curved to entice a man’s appetite. It didn’t matter if he was vampire or fey.
“There’s more than one kind of magic a female can use to bewitch a male, as you well know,” he growled.
There was the slightest flicker of her lashes before her guarded expression was being replaced by a mocking smile. “Tell me, Roke, do you hate all women, or is it just me?”
Roke muttered a curse, abruptly recalling Styx’s words: You do remember how to seduce a young, beautiful woman, don’t you . . . ?
Dammit. He was supposed to be charming the female, not pissing her off.
Shifting the tray, he waved a hand in front of the cell door, using his powers to turn the lock. As it swung open he stepped through and closed it behind him with his foot.
Entering the cell, he moved to set the tray on the narrow cot before straightening to meet her frustrated glare.
Okay, time to be charming.
Forcing his muscles to unclench, he strolled forward. “Maybe you could change my opinion,” he murmured, his gaze lowering to the sensual curve of her lips.
Sally blinked, clearly baffled by his abrupt change. “I don’t care enough to make the effort,” she at last retorted. “I prefer Lysander’s company.”
Roke battled back his surge of anger. “Forget the fairy,” he warned in soft tones. “He’s obviously too susceptible to be an adequate guard.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Because he didn’t beat me?”
He hissed, dangerously disturbed by the thought of any man daring to raise a hand to this female. “No one would dare mar that perfect skin,” he rasped, moving close enough that he could run his fingers down the bare skin of her neck.
She shivered, her eyes widening. “What are you doing?”
Fan-fucking-tastic question.
“Sit,” he muttered, lowering his hands to grasp her arms so he could steer her to the bed. Only when she was perched on the edge of the mattress did he release his hold. “Eat while it’s hot.”
Rolling her eyes, she reached for a ham sandwich and took a savage bite.
“Have you thought about taking meds for those manic mood swings of yours?” she muttered.
Mood swings? He gave a short, humorless laugh. If she truly understood his current mood she’d be hitting him upside the head with the tray.
“You have to admit you haven’t been Miss Sunshine yourself,” he countered.
“At least I have a reason for being so surly.” She polished off the sandwich and reached for another. “You? Not so much.”
With a brooding gaze he watched her work her way through the food. How the hell did such a tiny female consume so much? Weren’t humans always concerned with calories and fat content and all that crap?
Not that there was anything wrong with her slender curves, he silently conceded. They were . . . mouthwatering.
Polishing off the plate of French fries, she lifted her head to meet his unwavering gaze with a frown. “Okay, you’re freaking me out,” she snapped. “What do you want?”
“What makes you think I want anything?”
“You’re looking at me like I was a bug you’re getting ready to squish.”
“A bug?” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “You truly are an innocent if you think that’s why I’m staring.”
She surged to her feet, clearly sensing his smoldering tension if not the reason behind it. “Just answer the question.”
He studied her pale face. He logically understood what he was supposed to do.
Charm her.
Seduce her.
Lure her into revealing what she was hiding.
So, what was the problem?
He might not be as insatiable as most vampires when it came to sex, but he was more than capable of seducing a female.
More than capable.
A teasing smile, a soft confession that he’d been staring at her because she was exquisite. He would gently tuck a strand of satin hair behind her ear and apologize for his rough manners. Perhaps even lead her over to the bed and press one of the ripe strawberries between her lips before urging her back onto the mattress and— There.
That was the problem.
He couldn’t make a game out of seducing her. Not when the mere thought of running his hands over that pale, peach-scented skin was enough to send him up in flames.
Shit. If he wanted the truth, he was going to have to find a less perilous means of acquiring it.
Folding his arms over his chest, he met her wary gaze with a determined expression. If he couldn’t finesse her, he’d out-stubborn her.