Page 92 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

He stared at her and something in his chest softened. Not only had he misjudged her, but he hadn’t realized exactly what an incredible woman she was. Not merely impressive for her blood, but for what she’d faced and conquered.

“There was a graduate student,” she continued, “a TA for my finite analysis class. He was such a prick.”

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, suddenly seeing red.

“Not physically. He told me the only reason I’d gotten this far in my education was because I was pretty. As if all my teachers simply passed me because I was nice to look at. It was so…diminishing. I had to file a sexual harassment claim against him when he kept saying things like that to me.”

“What is his name?” he growled, already planning ten different ways to make him suffer.

“Why? Are you going to go hunt him down for me? Teach him a lesson?”

“I’m considering it. Do I have your permission?”

“Huh.” She looked taken aback. “Maybe you’re not entirely useless after all.”

He grunted. “Glad you’ve found your sarcasm again, little flower.”

She stared at him. “Why do you call me that?”

“Because of your name.”

“No.”

“No?” He lifted a brow.

“You called me that before you knew my name.”

A wicked grin split his lips. “You have a good memory.”

She looked entirely unamused.

“All right, it’s because of your scent.”

“My scent? Do I smell like flowers?”

“You do. Lilies and rich, warm vanilla.” He closed his eyes and inhaled. Such a beautiful scent. “Your name was merely a coincidence.”

She fussed with her hair, pulling it around to one side. The motion was unconsciously done. Still, it forced his gaze to zero in on her exposed throat. To the pulse beating there. The place his teeth most wanted to be.

He swallowed and said, “Anyway, I never should have judged you. I had no idea. That was my mistake. Again, I’m sorry. I acted abominably. With everything you’ve been through, I only made it worse.”

She froze. “You…looked me up?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“You did, didn’t you? You… You… I don’t want your pity, Laurent. Is that…is that why you’re doing all of this? Because you feel sorry for me? Poor little foster girl, she’s been through so much, never had anyone to love her.”

His lips parted. For a moment, he was struck speechless. Because that wasn’t at all why. Is that what she believed?

“I don’t want your pity, Laurent,” she snapped, her voice going cold.

“I… No. That’s not why I’m doing any of this, Lily.”

“Are you sure?” Her gaze narrowed, mistrustful.

He leaned back, trying to relax. “Discovering your past helped me to better understand what you’ve been through. But all it did was help me understand what an asshole I’ve been. I don’t pity you, Lily. You aren’t some poor, unloved foster child. You’re a brilliant mathematician who fights for what she wants. You’re strong. You’re beautiful. You’re…”

He blinked. Shit. None of these words had been planned when he rehearsed this.