CHAPTER 65
The heavy click of the lock served as the final period to his sentence. Isabella remained frozen against the headboard, the lingering warmth of the broth still coating her throat, while the ghost of Lucian's heat vanished from the mattress.
The room felt empty without him. She stared at the door for a long time, half-expecting him to burst back in and demand the truth again. But there was only the low whistle of the wind against the wall and the frantic thudding of her own heart.
A tool, huh? there wasn't a single insult, a single name that man hadn't thrown at her. She looked down at her hands. They had stopped shaking, steadied by the nutrients and the brief, electric contact with his skin.
