Isabelle met his gaze head-on.
She should have felt irritated. Disgusted. Even intimidated.
But for some reason—she didn't.
Damien towered over her, his smirk lazy, his sharp blue eyes glinting with something unreadable. Most girls in this school would have already taken a step back, flustered or uncomfortable. Yet, she remained where she was, glaring right into his gaze.
And that was when she noticed something strange.
Something that made her pause.
His eyes—they held desire, yes. There was a spark of interest in them, a lingering amusement that told her he was enjoying this confrontation far more than he should. But it wasn't the kind of desire that set off alarms in her mind.
It wasn't the lecherous hunger she had come to despise.
It wasn't the kind that crawled against her skin, that made her feel like she needed to step away, to create distance, to protect herself.
She knew that kind of gaze all too well.
She had trained herself to recognize it.
