““In the lightless void he was staring at, an image of Kiara dancing in her last ballet floated before his eyes, which didn’t help him calm his arousal at all. Damn it, why did he feel like this? But then she’d always been able to stir his senses. Every time he’d seen her dance, she’d touched a part of his soul—a part of him he preferred to think was long dead and damned. She, alone, had made him see beauty in a universe he normally despised. Had made him feel something other than cold, corrupt emptiness. She was beauty and gentleness personified. Nykyrian scoffed at his own stupidity. He knew better. No one was good and no one over the age of ten was unscarred. Life was brutal and it made victims of everyone.””
