...her jaw immediately dropped at the sight of the boyish-looking…giant standing next to one of the marble pillars in the hall, speaking with another member of the High Circle. He was tall – even taller than Domenico, perhaps by an inch or two.

His hair was an interesting shade of black, one that gleamed violet under the light. His skin was pale, his body lean and obviously hard as his form-fitting white formal jacket and breeches proved. The most eye-catching part of his attire was the lace cuffs that peeked past the sleeves of his jacket, something Misty had only seen Tom Cruise wearing when he played the old-fashioned vampire Lestat in Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire.

Lysander turned partially towards them, allowing Misty a glimpse of his face just before he bid the other man goodbye with a deep bow.

Dark perfectly sculpted brows, eyes the palest shade of lilac, cheekbones carved like a marble statue, and thin, equally perfectly shaped lips. That face was too beautiful for words.

“Be blessed,” the older man said before walking away.

She watched Lysander pull a lace fan out of nowhere. Every move he made was an execution of elegance, from the twist of his wrist to the snap of his ornately designed fan as it spread open with a flick of his long, thin fingers.

“He’s gay, right?” Misty blurted out.

Daryl smirked. “Oh, yes.” His answer dripped with sarcasm, but Misty wasn’t to know that, not until much, much later, when it was too late.

Misty’s words floated to Lysander’s ears, but he made not even the slightest indication that he heard the mortal speak. Only when he turned his back to them that Lysander allowed a smile half playful and half dangerous to touch his lips. It completely transformed his face, revealing the rogue under the princely guise, the man who fucked so beautifully he made every Faerie woman cry tears of regret the moment he withdrew his cock from between a woman’s thighs.

He closed his eyes, savoring the innocent interest in the woman's eyes. There was nothing so delicious as taking a woman's innocence. Virginity was just one of its many forms. There were so many others, and the woman gazing at him with curious wonder had it in spades. Her aura defined purity itself, and it aroused Lysander like he had never been aroused before.

Misty Wall.

He would have so much fun with her.