Something in his reaction amused her, and she decided to draw nearer. If Damien allowed, she gently touched his face, her index finger tracing a circle around his visage. Her steel-blue gaze, simultaneously human and inhuman, sought to delve into the essence of his being.
"[Why not?]"
She murmured slowly, almost whispering as if the words were meant solely for him despite their isolated presence in the Maltese countryside. Her bodyguards might have been nearby or not — that certainty eluded him.
Unfamiliar thoughts and sensations began to infiltrate his mind again. They were feelings of joy, albeit slightly altered, different. Or were they? There was more to it. Joy at the expense of others? The thrill of the hunt and the sense of danger. These were potent, intoxicating feelings, almost lending meaning to his own existence. They heightened the senses, quickened the heartbeat, and pumped adrenaline.
"[You will meet my parents, and I will meet yours.]"
She whispered these words directly into his ear, rousing him from the trance induced by her influence. Who else could it be here? It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced this - different situations, different environments, but one element remained constant - Fiorella de Marco was always present.
"[Fair, is it not?]"
There was a playfulness in her voice, and it was difficult to discern whether she was serious at the moment or merely toying with him, studying and assessing his reactions as she did a couple of times before.
