And there she stands before him, desperately wanting to see. To see the way Aika sees him: dull mist-gray eyes, silky brown hair, and dimples in his cheeks when he smiles. By her friend’s stories, he must be divinely handsome. By her own examination of the slightly warm skin beneath her fingertips—he truly is one of the gods, whose name is Zoran Bereglez.
Only not the right one. Not the real one. In fact, not a god at all. His eyes are amber, with three distinct black specks in the right iris. His hair is the warm color of honey, cut short enough to help in battle. And there are no dimples on his cheeks to be found. But there is a scar cutting across his left eyebrow. Oh, and his name is not Zoran at all. It is Damir. Damir Velikozemsky. The young prince of the Great Black Lands.
And if anyone learns his secret, they will most certainly kill him. But he cannot do otherwise. For Velmira Zagryazhskaya-Sirin, he will be anyone—anything—as long as he can stay by her side.