"Out." Then she admitted, "I've never seen any curling in." That would be a great twist. A lady's indignant slap would never be the same.

"Have you ever heard of a bichawa bagh nakh?" When she shook her head, he said, "I wish I could show you. I had a collection such as you wouldn't believe." His dark brows knit. These reminders of what he'd given up must be sharp.

His look bothered her, and she couldn't understand why. You made your bed, vampire.

And still she found herself saying, "Maybe you could draw one?" She crossed to the desk, rooting through drawers until she found paper and a pen.

With a nod, he traced to the seat, collecting the paper. He began to sketch the baseplate and curved claws of the basic weapon, his outline surprisingly competent. Was there anything he couldn't do?

Outside the storm picked up, but the lazy fire gave off just enough heat. She found herself relaxing, sipping her wine as she watched the drawing take shape.

Yet she kept getting distracted by him. Her eyes flickered over his hair. It was thick and straight, reflecting firelight. Had she run her fingers through it last night?

She noted the expanse of his shoulders beneath that tailored shirt and his great height-sitting down, he was nearly as tall as she was standing up. Then her gaze lingered on his face. His masculine features formed an expression of thoughtful concentration.

His eyes really were a mesmerizing shade of green. She'd seen that color before. In the deepest forests of Abaddon.

Perhaps Morgana had been right in her assessment.

Looking at Daciano's lips brought to mind his heated kisses last night. Whenever she'd imagined kissing Cas, she'd envisioned accompanying sighs, handholding, and laughter.

But now, with this vampire, her thoughts weren't quite so innocent. Surely that was because she'd actually kissed Daciano. Of course her imaginings would be different; reality was intruding!

Breaking her stare, he said, "The basic model would be fine to use against a human. But for an immortal you need more tissue disruption."

Tissue disruption. Gods, he was talking Weapon to her.

She was actually enjoying herself. She hopped up on the desk, tilting her head down to watch him work.

He paused, his gaze sliding to the slit of her skirt. She crossed her legs; he snapped the pen.

How . . . thrilling. She'd never had such an effect on males before. She could almost feel like a sorceress again, enthralling a vampire warrior.

That didn't mean she needed to play with fire. She handed him another pen. "The drawing, Daciano."

His broad jaw clenched, he gave a subtle nod, then continued. His fingers were dexterous. She remembered more vividly how he'd secured her br**sts in his possessive grip as he'd suckled her. She remembered how those clever fingers had trailed down her torso before petting her between her legs.

Slowly, tenderly, hotly.

He'd certainly been dexterous then, with an art all his own.

She didn't need to be thinking about this right now! If she grew aroused, he would know, could probably hear her heart speeding up right now-

At that moment, one of his pen strokes went erratic. He paused, seeming to catch his breath before the pen moved once more.

When she glanced down next, he'd drawn a blade jutting from one end of the baseplate. "That's a static blade?" she asked. "It's always extended?"

In a hoarse voice, he said, "Yes, but if you can figure out how to eject spikes from an armlet, you can surely create a switchblade to eject from the baseplate."

"So it'd look like it was shooting from the bottom of my fist?"

"Precisely."

So that was the modification. Patroness would adore it. Maybe Bettina and Daciano did have some common ground.

Eyes anywhere but on her, the vampire slid the page over.

If Trehan's female could guess even half of his thoughts at this moment, she'd run screaming from the tent.

With her so accessible on the desk, he could sweep her over in front of his chair and grip her knees, easing her thighs open.

He'd compared Bettina to a book before; now he dreamed of spreading her wide and devouring her, sampling her as he'd dreamed of all day. His shaft swelled painfully as the fantasy played out in his mind.

He wouldn't let her go until she'd come half a dozen times for him. Against his tongue, her drenched sex would quiver, hungry for his shaft to fill it-

Control yourself, Trehan!

Easier said . . . When she'd hopped up on the desk, her bared thigh just inches from his hand, he'd wondered if she was a tease-or if she truly had no idea how much she affected him.

He suspected the latter. He also suspected she was catching on, and enjoying her newfound feminine wiles.

Gods help me.

Already her mannerisms had bewitched him: the way she absently licked wine from her red lips. The way she adjusted her mask when she was discomfited. The way she gazed up at him from under her thick lashes, taking his measure with those exquisite eyes.

When she'd tilted her head to analyze his drawing, her thick mane of hair had swept over her bare shoulder, sending him awash in her scent.

And, zeii, her smile. Earlier, when she'd realized she was enjoying herself, her lips had curled, the smile coming easily. Immediately, his mind had turned to ways he could coax another from her.

Everything about her made him want to either crush her in an embrace-or pin her hips as he pounded between her legs.

Worse? He was certain she was getting aroused as well.