Page 218 of Kneel Before Me

Daphne shook her head. “That’s no good either. That’s not about me.”

“Yes it is—it’s the way you make me feel.”

She shook her head again. “Doesn’t count. Try again.”

Maximus sighed in mock exasperation. In truth, he was gleefully happy, perhaps happier than he’d been in months. He thought about all the things he liked about Daphne—her curly hair, her infectious laugh that he heard far too little of, her incessant attitude. Even when she was insulting him or pushing him away, he liked her. Hell, that only made him like her more. The fact that she wouldn’t simply give in to him meant she had standards—something women like Veronica could never comprehend.

He liked all of those things, but he finally decided on the thing he liked the most: “Your compassion.”

It was an easy answer. He was surprised he hadn’t thought of it immediately. The incident with the spider came to mind: how she’d urged him to see the value of a life, no matter how small. It was a lesson that had stuck with him ever since and changed the way he viewed the world. No woman had ever made him feel like that before—no woman had ever prompted such introspection. It was that same introspection that had prompted him to write to her after finding the letters from Kronos. If Maximus wanted a future with Daphne—if he wanted her to marry him and one day bear his children—he knew that future could not include the bloodletting. It was a concession he was willing to make. The prize would be worth it.

This answer, finally, seemed to satisfy Daphne. She smiled up at him. He wondered if this was how she acted with the people close to her. He could imagine her at a bar with her friends, pink-cheeked and smiling, just the way she was now. What a privilege to feel he was a part of her world, even for a moment. He smiled back down at her, and for a moment, they simply existed in perfect peace. Then the moment deepened, and Maximus felt a shift in her energy. Her eyes dropped to his lips. At first, Maximus thought he might have imagined it. But when she raised her hand to his face, there was no doubt what she was reaching for.

He froze as she touched first his jaw, then his cheek, then his lips. Maximus knew she wouldn’t kiss him. Instead she traced the tips of her fingers over his upper lip, brushing it gently before pulling it up—just barely—to expose his gold incisors. Maximus stayed perfectly still as she did this, afraid that if he made the slightest movement, she might stop touching him.

Instead she lingered there, her fingers on his mouth, her flesh against his. Maximus could see a thousand emotions warring in her eyes. For the first time since he’d known her, desire was among them—a flash of it burning brighter than the fire. He knew they were reaching a tipping point, knew in his gut that this was the moment things might change for them. When she dropped her hand, he caught it.

They stayed there, suspended in the moment. Time slowed to a crawl. Maximus was not interested in this being over anytime soon.

“You didn’t eat tonight,” he said. It didn’t matter what they talked about—he just had to keep her here.

“We were busy dancing.”

“Would you have eaten if we hadn’t danced?”

She shrugged, her shoulders shifting across his lap. “Your food is fancy.”

“Is fancy a bad thing?”

She shrugged again. “Sometimes.”

Maximus was tempted to ask whether she thought he was fancy, but then he remembered that she already thought he was a prat and decided against it. Instead his other hand went to her throat, brushing his fingers over the gold chain around her neck.

“You’re rather fancy tonight too, you know.”

He’d meant it in jest. But for some reason, this was the wrong thing to say. Daphne stiffened immediately, pulling her hand out of his. Maximus froze, suddenly terrified that she would leave. To his intense relief she remained in place, albeit her usual guarded expression returned to her face. He knew he needed to alleviate the moment and quickly. So he said, “I’m only fancy when I’m at the castle.”

“You’re always at the castle.”

“That could change. We could go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

Daphne gave him a suspicious look. She pointed at him. “Something tells me you’d still be fancy anywhere.”

“And something tells me,” Maximus said, touching the tip of her finger with his, “that you do not know me very well.”

Daphne allowed him to touch her finger. That simple gesture fed him just as food would. “That’s because you haven’t told me anything about yourself.”

“Of course I have.”

She shook her head emphatically. “No, you haven’t. All I know about you is that you like red wine.”

Maximus rolled his eyes. It was hardly an illuminating fact about himself. But Daphne was right, he realized. What did she really know about him? Why had it taken them so long to have a conversation like this? In the past, Maximus might not have been open to it. He was now.

“Fine,” he said. “What do you wish to know?”