Being grabbed by the head fucking hurt, and Conor lost his grip on the knife. Adrenaline had started singing along his skin, and he gasped as he was jerked roughly downward.
"I wasn't aiming for your fucking heart," he breathed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Mostly because I'm almost convinced you don't have one." Byron's grip on his head made it hard to look up at him, but if he could have, the vampire would have seen a mixture of pain and fear, and yes, the tiniest little thrill. That part was still there, no matter how much he might try to insist it wasn't.