The hallway echoed under his steps, each one marked by the sound of his contained fury.
Lucian moved like a chained beast, fists so tightly clenched that his knuckles cracked under the pressure. His breathing was irregular, heavy, the air scraping his throat as if each gulp carried the metallic taste of his own rage. Each step was a failed attempt to regain control, but the beast roaring inside him fed on the memory, on her scent, on her name.
Eliza.
His curse and his longing.
He could still smell her on his skin, impregnated in his blood, in the burning mark that throbbed on his neck like a sentence. He hated her with every fiber of his body... and yet, he desired her with the same intensity that destroyed him.
