Birthright

“No. I’m not.” Dori watched him chew his nail and found herself unconsciously mimicking the gesture. Her fingers were still damp when she reached across the map and touched his breastbone. Her pupils dilated until the iris was gone and all that could be seen were black orbs. Whistler would have experienced a subtle tug, a sensation like a drawstring cinching and pulling the life from his chest, only for Dori to release so that it snapped back.

Her pupils adjusted.

She was out of breath.

There was so much life in him, so much to take, so many years and so much power.