"You think murderers don't have manners?" he asked, arching a brow.

Then his eyes darted to the bed.

"Is that what your bedtime stories tell you? Your books spin tales of savage men, masters of death, taking what they want by force?" he asked, his tone growing more heated as the words tumbled out.

Suddenly, he caught Q and hauled him tight to his chest.

"You have dreams of being ravished at sea?"

His lips twitched into a taunting smile as he awaited the answer.