CHAPTER 146
Isabella stood before Lucian, her shirt hanging open and heavy with the dampness of the room.
Her skin pale and shimmering under a fine, ethereal mist of spray and sweat. To any other observer, she might have looked fragile—a slip of a girl caught in the devastating path of a hurricane—yet the look in her eyes was steel forged in a furnace of absolute resolve.
She wasn't begging for her life, nor was she pleading for mercy; she was commanding him with the silent weight of her soul.
The freezing spray of the shower continued to drum against the marble tiles. Lucian's eyes, fractured by streaks of crimson that swirled within his irises, were locked onto the pale, vulnerable curve of Isabella's throat.
The steam curled around her, clinging to the damp, honeyed skin he had just been invited to ruin.
"Then take it." He stood paralyzed. The words were no longer just sound; they were vibrating through his head, threatening to shatter his remaining composure.
