“Who is Cecilia Hurst?” And why don’t I give a damn about her, only about Prince Duncan Caldwell and his phase mate, Lord Christopher Templeton?
If she could just concentrate on piecing together the sketchy information gathered at the Nephis Valley and find the stolen heart, she would be the happiest woman alive. Instead, Ylianor Meyer’s attention kept shifting on the two gorgeous men riding by her side, which made it unproductive to focus on anything besides the scorching memories of their stay in the pledge’s sacred valley and their consequent hurried escape from it.
If it had been a spell, which she hoped it had not, it could not have happened with two more breathtaking creatures than the one she had loved all her life, and the one she had come to appreciate after weeks spent traveling together.
Under her eyelashes, she stole a peak at her prince. Slightly older than his shiny blond phase mate, the very masculine Duncan Caldwell had raven black hair, falling down to his shoulders, dancing black eyes, a chiseled face with a square jaw over a tall, powerful, well-built frame with muscles rippling at every movement. Yes, he was impossibly gorgeous and impossibly taken, too, given how much he loved the very striking and very smug Lord Christopher Templeton.
Who was a real demon, no question about it, had been ever since he had walked into Black Rose with a load of rage and fury so great it would have annihilated anyone. Though not him, the eight-year-old boy that looked like an angel and had the core of a demon.
Goddamn him and his regular features with that aristocratic nose, the short thick hair flashing brighter than Stella’s rays and those intriguing blue-gray eyes she found hard to read at times.