"What, you get a little bit of skill and suddenly forget your manners?" The voice came from behind, its tone measured, tinged with anger yet also with indifference.
Before Erin Lowell could even speak, the other man snapped angrily, "Caleb!"
Hearing this inexplicable show of goodwill, Erin Lowell felt not an ounce of gratitude.
"My apologies, Caleb Sullivan." Erin Lowell's face was impassive, her expression more contemptuous than ever before. "I'm Erin Lowell. I've crawled my way back from death's door. I don't understand this 'respect' and 'manners' you speak of."
Caleb Sullivan, the direct heir of the Sullivan Family of North Kaelen. He was twenty-seven, with a commanding, handsome face and particularly striking features. It was just a shame his heart was black.
Caleb Sullivan's expression faltered slightly. He slowly raised his head. In the brightly lit room, he seemed wreathed in darkness, the look in his eyes as tranquil as a demon's.
