Lucian's POV
This little Blackwood daughter—truly her mother's protégé. She had that same dangerous, practiced way of drawing eyes, like moths to a porch light. She didn't need to try; attention clung to her the way rotting meat draws flies.
Even now, standing at the edge of the ballroom, I could see it happening again. The vampire prince — of all people — had found her worth his attention. I watched as he bowed low, his pale hand reaching out for hers like she was some rare prize. Pathetic.
Tyler, poor fool that he was, stepped in like a guard dog only to be swatted away. His temper flared, his pride stung, and he stood there looking at her like she'd just broken something inside him. The resemblance was… unnerving. The same desperate, hollow look my father used to wear every time his mistress ignored him.
That look — that weakness — disgusted me.
