CHAPTER 27
Isabella was fading. The copper scent of her own blood filled her nose, and the world began to tilt into a dark, quiet abyss.
Her hands which had been clawing at his skin, now merely rested on his shoulders, her fingers curling weakly into his hard muscle.
She survived the pack just to be a juice box for a ghost, she thought bitterly, her chin dropping as her strength evaporated.
But just as the darkness was about to claim her, the harsh sucking on her lips stopped. The iron grip on the back of her head shifted, the fingers trailing down her neck with a slow, almost reverent touch.
Lucain's eyes finally faltered open. They weren't the dull, dying embers she had seen in the forest.
They were twin pools of deep red liquid, glowing with a lethal clarity that cut through the cave's gloom like a blade.
He didn't pull away immediately. He lingered there, his forehead resting against hers, his fangs slowly retracting from her mangled lip.
