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courage.”
    She shuddered, unconsciously pressing closer to Elijah’s hard body.
    â€œI hate them.”
    â€œBecause they mar your face?”
    She shook her head. “Because they remind me . . .”
    â€œValla?” he gently prompted when her words faded.
    â€œOf the men who hurt me.”
    â€œBut they didn’t cause these scars.” Before she could stop him, Elijah bent his head to trace the raised ridges with his mouth. “They came from your escape,” he murmured against her sensitive skin. “They’re a badge of honor, mon ange . Wear them with pride.”
    She held herself rigid, but she didn’t pull away. Odd. She’d never allowed anyone to touch her face.
    â€œEasy for you to say,” she muttered, more for something to say than to chastise him.
    His reaction was . . . epic.
    â€œEasy?” The icy power returned, this time shattering her crystal bowl as he yanked his head back to reveal a lethal power glowing in the dark eyes. His features seemed sharper, as if the ivory skin had been pulled tighter over his elegant bones and his fangs shimmered with a dazzling white. This wasn’t the charming Elijah who could kiss a woman into bone-melting surrender. This was the vampire who’d claimed Paris from a clan chief who’d ruled this territory for over a thousand years. “Do you think that I haven’t been tormented by the knowledge of what you endured?” he rasped, a vase on the table exploding. “Do you think I wouldn’t give everything I possess to turn back the clock and protect you from the nightmare?”
    She licked her dry lips. “Elijah.”
    â€œDo you think I haven’t had every one of those bastards tracked down and eliminated?”
    She blinked at the stark confession. What did she do with that?
    A better woman would no doubt be horrified.
    She knew Elijah well enough to realize that his means of elimination would be a slow, appallingly painful death.
    But the knowledge that the bastards that had tortured her for so long were dead . . . and that they’d suffered . . . well, she didn’t feel at all horrified.
    She felt liberated.
    â€œYou did that for me?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
    â€œThose I could find.” A grim smile touched his lips. “I discovered that Viper, the clan chief of Chicago, had most of them wiped out after he found his mate at one of the auctions. I had to be content with only a handful of trolls and a half-breed ogre.”
    She managed a faint smile at the edge of annoyance in his voice. He wasn’t pleased his thirst for revenge had been cheated by a fellow clan chief.
    â€œI don’t know what to say,” she said so softly only a vampire could have caught the words.
    He leaned down until they were nose to nose, his power losing its icy edge to stroke over her skin in a soft caress.
    â€œSay that you are as happy as I am that you survived,” he murmured.
    â€œOf course I’m happy.”
    â€œThen rejoice in the evidence of your escape.” He pressed his lips to her scars. “I do.”

    Elijah had had the best intentions when he’d come into the apartment.
    He’d planned to corner Valla and convince her that he didn’t have a savior complex or whatever other lame excuse she’d invented to keep a barrier between them.
    Then he was going to reveal what he’d known from the moment he’d scooped her out of the Seine.
    She was his mate.
    And he would spend the rest of eternity, if necessary, convincing her that they belonged together.
    But he’d been distracted by her concern for the pesky gargoyle. And more delectably distracted when he’d been goaded into kissing her.
    Now he was determined to prove that the scars that marked her face only added to her beauty.
    And if words couldn’t do it, then he was willing to use more direct methods.
    Like a return to the delectable kissing . . .
    That