Lila
Dane glared down at her, challenging her to defy him. So, she did. She put that finger under his nose, but she kept her tone firm, rather than angry. "You. Aren't. Him!"
He stepped toward her and Lila stepped back. But he kept coming. So she backed off, watching him closely because finally, finally there was a light in his eyes. It was frantic—a little angry, and a little frightening—but it was better than the hollow shell he'd been when she walked in.
"Dane," she said, a warning in her voice.
"I told you that he trained me. I told you that he made me. Do you understand what that means?" his voice was a low rasp as he stalked toward her with the predatory grace of a big cat.
"Not-not really. I mean, I can guess—"
