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long tale of suffering.
    I passed the folder on.
    I couldn't stand to look at their eyes anymore. They were the eyes of people who have glimpsed a world without hope, and I didn't want to think about what must have happened to them to put that terrible quality there, because those things could have just as easily happened to me . Some already had, I was sure.
    There had been a point, not long ago, when I had been forced to come to terms with what I had wholly believed was my impending death.
    Even now, I could be killed before the week was out. Many powerful men out there wanted me dead, and this world was ruled by powerful men who were all too used to getting their way.
    Adrian had taught me that lesson all too well.
    Oh, but hell, like many things, exists on earth. It's only a matter of finding the right path to get there, and believe me, Christina, I know the way. I can take you there.
    He was Satan with a human face, and I wanted to put him back where he belonged.
    In hell.
    Michael's eyes met mine for a moment. He had incredible eyes — cat-like one moment, and then forest green the next. The color was dependent on luminescence and shadow, affected by something as small as the tilt of his head. Up close, in the light, they were even more stunning, with yellow flecks caught in the iris like beads of honey.
    His eyes were dark now, foreboding, and even though I knew that had everything to do with his facing away from the light source and nothing to do with his state of mind, he still cut an imposing figure, like the deadly, muscular men who graced the covers of dark romance novels with the subtle whisper of violence. Michael's jaw was tense, and I had the impression that he wanted to speak to me. But of course, he wouldn't. Not here. Not now.
    My own face, never stoic no matter how hard I tried, must have revealed my despair. I saw his mouth relax slightly in sympathy, the lip soften as he unclenched his teeth. I knew from experience that he was attempting to look reassuring, and instead of consoling me it had the opposite effect because if he felt that he had to protect me, we really were screwed.
    Suraya cursed aloud, in Hindi, bringing my train of thought to an abrupt halt. I twisted around to look at her along with everyone else.
    The folder had reached her. One of the papers had fluttered to the ground, but she didn't seem to notice. Her face was flushed, and there was a spark of animation in her normally dead eyes that I'd never seen before. Not with such vivid clarity.
    Michael glanced at Suraya, a look of annoyance flickering over his face briefly before he managed to seize control. “Something you want to share with the rest of the class?” he drawled.
    If that was intended to subdue her, it failed.
    “This man is a demon.” She smacked the folder violently, hard enough that the sound made me flinch. Michael noticed that, too. I saw his eyes flick towards me again before returning to Suraya.
    “We're getting to that.” His voice resonated with the taut restraint of a finger poised on the trigger of a gun with a lot of recoil.
    Suraya paid him no notice. “He is a scourge upon humanity.” Spittle flew from her lips, and she didn't seem to notice that either. She was beyond registering anything as she was carried along by the momentum of her own hatred. “This is the fate he promised my sister if I did not cooperate with his plans.”
    And there it was at last, out in the open.
    Maybe that was why Michael kept looking at me in that odd way, with the slight softening that wasn't quite pity. He knew what Adrian proposed to me. I'd told him, and his temper had flared more violently than it had in a while. I'd had to go out and buy some bandages and topical ointments as he picked out the pieces of plaster lodged in the wound he'd gotten from putting his fist through the wall.
    Once his rage had dissipated, and he could speak without cursing, Michael told me that what Adrian wanted would never happen, not as