“How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. She brought her face to his chest, turning her head sideways so he would not notice her elongated canines. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others.
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