Chapter Nine The night of my auction there was a man in the Den, his eyes a frosty blue and his hair white-blond. It might make another man look soft, but his broad shoulders strain his white dress shirt, muscles bulging beneath the fabric. He looks like some kind of Nordic warrior, pillaging a village. He takes one look at Gabriel and scowls. “Sit down before you fall down.” It’s a sign of how affected Gabriel is that he actually listens. He takes two steps into the nearest sitting room and reclines his body on a leather armchair. It could be casual comfort. Only a scratch, like he wants me to believe. But the way he closes his eyes proves it’s more than that. He can finally lower his guard now that we’re somewhere safe. Blood stains a dark line down the front of his crisp white shirt