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“That is also interesting.” He straightened, now barefoot.
I wet my lips nervously—
Lord Thorne’s gaze fixed on my mouth. White stars flickered through his pupils, and much like hares did in the gardens whenever I grew too close, I froze. His stare was . . . it was intense and . . . andheated.A flush crawled up my throat. I’d never been looked at like that before, not even by those who believed they were moments from joining their bodies with mine.
He came forward, his steps slow and measured. Precise in a wholly unsettling way. A shiver coursed down my spine. His gaze dropped. The sash at my waist had either loosened during our struggle or when he’d been moving his fingers over it, causing the cut of the neckline to be deeper, wider. The inner swells of my breasts were clearly visible, all the way to the darker shade at the peaks. Slowly, his gaze returned to mine. The blue of his irises seeped into the green.
“When you said the manor was your home, I figured you were a member of the aristo,” he noted.
I snorted. “Why would you think that?”
“Your clothing. Both times I’ve seen you, you’ve been draped in the kind of expensive cloth a member of a less fortunate class wouldn’t spend coin on.”
“You’re right about that,” I said. “But I’m no aristo.”
“I see.” His head tilted as his gaze flicked over my face. “And I can also see why you’d be a favorite of the Baron. You are very . . . interesting.”
The corners of my lips tipped down. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
“It should be,” he said. “I’ve never found a mortal to be all that interesting or enthralling.” His head tilted. “Or amusing.”
My brows shot up. “Then I don’t think you’ve met many lowborn.”
“I’ve known far too many,” he replied as he went to a small credenza situated near a window. I wondered what his age was. He appeared as if he couldn’t be more than a decade older than me, if that, but Hyhborn didn’t age like lowborn, and there was a heaviness to his words— an ancient weight to them.
“So . . . you find lowborn boring?” I asked.
“That’s not what I said.” He picked up a crystal decanter and poured himself a glass of the amber liquid. “Would you like a glass?”
I shook my head.
He picked up his glass. “I find your kind’s natural instinct for survival in the face of insurmountable odds admirable. To be honest, I’m fascinated by how every second of every minute counts in a way I don’t believe they ever could for one of my own. Life is a bit of a bore for a Hyhborn. I doubt the same could be said about a mortal.” Facing me, Lord Thorne took a drink. “But one has never interested me beyond that fleeting fascination.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that as I let my senses reach out to him once again. There was nothing but that humming white wall. What if my abilities didn’t work on a Hyhborn?
He watched me from above the rim of his glass. “I realize I don’t know your name.”
“Lis.”
“Is it short for something?”
I didn’t know why, but I nodded. “Calista.”
“Calista,”he murmured.
My breath snagged at the sound of my name. Possibly because it was so rare to hear it spoken, as only Grady knew it, but the way he said “Calista” . . . He twisted his tongue around my name in a way I’d never heard before.
He took a drink. “It too is fitting.”
“It is?” I murmured, utterly confounded by the fact that I’d shared that piece of information— something that I’d kept to myself because it was the only thing that was purely mine, as silly as that sounded.
“Yes. Do you know what it means?”
“The name has a meaning?”
“All names do.” A faint smile appeared. “Calista means ‘most beautiful.’ ”
Warmth crept up my throat. “Oh.”
