His anger flickered to something like amusement, and a smile erupted on his face. And suddenly, I couldn’t recall my outrage—or my name.
Despite myself, my heart beat a little faster at the intimacy of his touch. Now that he wasn’t threatening me, it felt like a caress. There was a possessiveness behind his hold.
Those blue eyes were clear, cold, and fathomless like the winter sky. His nose was straight and slender, with no sign of a break despite his profession, and the freckles that radiated out to his high-tanned cheekbones looked more boyish this close.
His fair hair was braided back loosely today, adding to the boyishness I now saw. But his full beard, cropped close, was stained a strawberry color, slightly darker than the hair on his head. And his smile. Full lips framed a row of straight white teeth, his elongated canines enhancing his wolfish appearance.
I blinked and swallowed momentarily, partly because of my reaction to him and partly because of embarrassment. Then again, it was his response to me.
He stood there, one hand on my throat, for much longer than necessary. His eyes continued to scan my face for what I wasn’t sure—maybe waiting for me to look away, giving my submission. We would be here forever if that were his goal.
It wasn’t until the men could be heard coming from the cellar that he stepped away. The hand around my throat moved up to cup my cheek, where he patted it before sending me a little smile as if to dare me to disobey him.
Despite myself, I smiled back.