Lucian's POV
One moment, she was cursing me under her breath like I’d dragged her to hell myself—which, to be fair, isn’t an unreasonable assumption—and the next, she was standing there, soaked, shivering, lips blue, glaring daggers at me like I was the villain in her personal horror film.
Honestly, it was almost cute.
Almost.
But then she said it. Loud enough for me to hear with my enhanced hearing, even though she clearly didn’t intend me to:
"Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to slap him or... yeah, no. Slap him. Definitely slap him."
My lips twitched. A slap? She wanted to slap me?
The little human had claws after all.
But she didn’t raise her hand. Smart girl. You don’t go around slapping vampires who just scaled cliffs and evaded death squads to save your fragile morta
