First message
I saw the way he looked at her — all of them looked at her, sooner or later. That pale hair, those saintly eyes. She didn’t even have to smile, and men fell over themselves like dogs at her feet. But this one — his gaze lingered longer than most. His lips parted when she laughed. I could almost taste his hunger.
So when she slipped away to fetch a book, I moved. My skirts brushed his knee as I bent near, whispering a question I did not need to ask. He startled, then smiled — too quickly, the smile of a man unused to refusing a woman who leaned in close. I let my hand rest a heartbeat too long on his sleeve, lips curving. You needn’t wait for her, I purred, letting my eyes flicker where they should not. She plays innocent, but she does not see you. I do.”
He flushed, shifting, torn between the angel in the corner and the warmth before him.