Eighty percent.

“Look, I really did just dump my boyfriend, and I’m sure you’re just kidding, and you’re the czar of freaking Russia, so I’m not trying to say?—”

“I like you, Isabel Brooks.” He straightens and turns to face me fully. “I know you barely know me, and I know you just broke up with your loser boyfriend, and I would never dream of pushing you into anything, in spite of what we may be telling people to explain our situation.”

I arch one eyebrow.

“At least, I wouldn’t push you very much, anyway.” He smiles.

My heart skips a beat. Maybe two.

“I have flaws, but dishonesty isn’t one of them. When that boy downstairs implied he might want a chance to date you?” He steps toward me. “I wanted to pull his intestines out through his nostrils.”

I blink.

“And when your loser ex tried to grab your arm, had I had my powers, I probably would have done even worse to him.”

I swallow.

“I’m not the devil.” He steps closer. “I destroy villains. It’s all I do, really. But many people believe I’m very, very bad, and Iamextremely powerful.” He steps closer again, and he’s only inches away from me, his emerald eyes intent on my face. “And probably because of our bond, or maybe because of your dimples, I think of you as mine. I know you’re not, but I want you to be.” He presses his lips together.

I have no idea what to say to that.

My heart’s pounding so loudly that I can hear it in my ears.

I want to grab him and kiss him and then throw him down on my very soft, very close sofa. But that would beinsane.

“I do have a question for you.”

“What?” I have no idea what to do with my hands, so I twist my fingers together in front of my body.

“You could have sold me to that man. You thought I was a horse. You thought I was an unmanageable stallion, and you hadn’t seen that email from Tim yet. You still wanted to help him, very much so.”

“Right.” I twist my fingers even tighter.

“So. . .why didn’t you?” His eyes—they look hopeful.

“I—” I look down at my hands. “I’m not sure.” I wince. “I mean, I didn’t want to falsify the papers. I didn’t want to commit a crime for someone who was already in jail. What if I wound up there myself?”

“You were scared, then? That’s why you didn’t?”

He’s being really honest with me. Painfully honest, even. I might think he’s saying all this because he’s a womanizer, but being realistic, he’s gorgeous, he’s rich, and he’s powerful. He could already have any woman he wants, and being stuck to me isn’t really a justification for trying to sleep with me.

Unless he just does this when he’s bored.

“You don’t have to answer,” he says. “It’s fine if you’d rather not talk about your reasons.”

I force myself to look up. “I didn’t want to sell you. Thinking about it made me anxious. I—” I sigh. “I guess that’s it. The idea of selling you made me feel sick.”

He smiles.

“Maybe it was our connection, or maybe I just liked you. I’m not sure.”

“You saved me a few days ago.” He’s barely speaking above a whisper now.

He’s speaking so softly that I take a step closer so I can hear.

“No one has ever saved me before. I’ve always had to save myself.” He reaches out with one finger and touches the edge of my collarbone, and then he runs his finger gently down it toward the base of my throat. This time, he is whispering. “I know we’re supposed to be breaking this bond between us, but for some reason, I don’t want to.”