He was huge, at least six-six, silvery blond hair and dark eyes — she couldn’t make out the color. A heavy silver chain hung from his neck, bisecting a huge gash at the base of his throat. She skipped over the wound. His size alone made him intimidating; thinking about what he’d battled to get such an injury would send her back into a panic.

Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze to move on. His chest was bare. She paused again, this time fixated on the smooth muscle, mesmerized by the up-and-down movement of his breath.

He crossed his arms over his chest, a sound close to a growl rumbling from his lips.

Her mouth suddenly dry, Kara remembered the danger she was most likely in. Snapping her gaze back to his face, she said, “I’d like to leave.”

“Would you?” He sauntered forward, his eyes burning into hers.

She folded her fingers into her palms, forcing herself to stay focused and calm. “Who are you?”

He stopped just short of touching her. His gaze flitted from her face to her neck, and then continued the descent to her still bare feet.

The wood floor seemed to warm beneath her.

Flight of imagination. Ignore it.

“How did I get here?” she asked, her voice coming out stronger than she felt.

He paused, then glanced back at her face.

Kara’s blood pulsed through her veins. She felt bare, as if he could see inside her, but she resisted the urge to shrink back against the door.

“Who are you?” she repeated, forcing an edge to her voice.

He took another step forward, and with a slow deliberate motion, twisted a lock of her auburn hair around one finger. “You first. Who are you, and why does Lusse want you?”

Risk stared down at the tiny woman in front of him. The air was thick with her emotions, which were just as mercurial this morning as they had been last night. Fear to anger, with no stop in between.