To him, she could never be property. Or some paltry plaything to roll about with then discard until the urge rose again. To him, she was a goddess. A warm, lovely woman caught in life's trap, doing her absolute best to survive what fate had dealt her, and that was what he respected. Adored. More than her beautiful face, more than her enticing woman's body, hidden beneath that idiotic white sack.

But she gave her assent and a lump of relief washed down his throat, and Daemon hesitated no longer. Holding her with one light hand at her neck, the other seeking and tangling his fingers with hers, he tilted his head to kiss her just lightly, a mere brush of lips. That became more in the next heartbeat, as he shifted again and took her mouth in a deeper kiss, entreating her to part her lips for him.