“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern knitting his brow.
“Nothing, nothing,” she said quickly, trying to cover up this crazy desire she had for him, because he clearly wasn’t having any of it. “So if I’m a…a sweetblood and my blood is so hard for vampires to resist, why haven’t you tried to kill me?”
He stiffened, then his arms dropped away from her and he rose to his feet. She shivered from the sudden loss of his warmth. Striding to the fireplace, he poked at one of the logs, sending a spray of sparks up the chimney. Firelight flickered on the angles of his face, making it look even more chiseled.
“Mateo?” she prompted when he didn’t answer.
“I have,” he said with a harsh laugh, stabbing another log. “You just don’t remember.”
She blinked a few times, confused. And then with a terrible realization, she knew the truth.
She hadn’t almost died four years ago because of a car accident. No. She’d almost died because of him.
