““I am not a woman,” was all she said. But hot temper laced those molten gold eyes. He gave her an indolent shrug, perhaps only because she was indeed in chains, perhaps because, even though the death she radiated thrilled him, it did not strike a chord of fear. “Witch, woman … as long as the parts that matter are there, what difference does it make?” She eased into a sitting position, disbelief and exhausted outrage on that perfect face. She bared her teeth in a silent snarl. Dorian offered a lazy grin in return. “Believe it or not, this ship has an unnatural number of attractive men and women on board. You’ll fit right in. And fit in with the cranky immortals, I suppose.””
