He could have. Felix could have told Shannon in detail of all the concessions, large and small, he'd made over the years to keep the blackness of his past away from their relationship, to keep Shannon innocent of those shadows, in the hopes that he might have something, if not pure, then at least good, in his life.

Shannon hadn't the slightest idea of everything that Felix had protected him from. The tempting, velvety ink of his temper soared, blinding him to reason and sense in a roaring rush of rage.

He slammed the bottle down on the table, leaning over it, his mis-matched eyes hard and threatening. "You want to say it. Say it. Tell me what I am, Shannon."

The word was hanging in the air between them. Whore.