Jaenor appeared at the door, opening it, and he was still in the towel, wrapped around his waist below. His torso was bare, sculpted by centuries of brutal combat and immortal metabolism.
The morning light caught the defined ridges of his abdomen, the deep V-cut that disappeared into the fabric, the faint, silvery tracery of old scars that only made the living muscle beneath more compelling. A sheen of fresh sweat glistened on his skin, as if he'd just finished a workout.
Kate stood frozen as she watched him standing before her.
Kate's breath caught as she continued to stare at his upper naked body and his face and his eyes, which were staring right into hers.
A weird, warm flutter started low in her belly, unwelcome and confusing.
It was… aesthetically striking, yes, but it was more than that.
A pull, a vague sense of recognition that had nothing to do with memory and everything to do with a primal, unsettling hum in her blood.
Why does he feel so… familiar?
