…Verity burst into peals of laughter. "You?" She giggled. "You? If you owned that dagger, it'd make you over two thousand years old." She eyed him brazenly from head to toe. "You've got a pretty nice body for your age, Drago," she mocked. "Why don't you show me exactly just what you've got on under that tunic so I can see how a two-thousand-year-old man stacks up against today's hotties."

Verity continued to chuckle, but when Drago unfastened the cord at his waist and stripped off the golden tunic, her laughter died to a choked gasp.

He wore nothing at all underneath his tunic, but what was there was definitely superior to any man she'd ever seen in the twenty-first century.

"Do I compare favorably, mistress?" He stalked proudly around the chair and paused beside her, completely naked except for his leather sandals. The silver light made plains and valleys of his muscles, highlighting the smooth, taut curve of his hips and the ridges across his thighs.