CHAPTER 41
Isabella stared at the heavy oak door as if it might speak back to her. A week ago, she was a wolfless outlier, trying to fade into the background of a pack that didn't want her.
Now, she was wearing a Vampire King's coat as a nightgown, hiding in a witch's spare room while that same witch was somewhere in the house, undoubtedly planning her next move.
Isabella crossed the room and sank onto the bed, the goose-down mattress sighing under her weight. The scent of Lucian was so thick in the fibers of the coat that she felt like she was being held by him.
It was a suffocating comfort. She pulled her knees to her chest, the hem of the coat bunching around her thighs.
She was supposed to be terrified of him—he was the monster from the stories. The same stories that didn't feel quite real anymore.
