CHAPTER 23
Third Person POV
Lucian's body finally surrendered. After those final, raspy words, the rigid iron in his spine snapped, and he slumped forward.
Isabella barely caught him. The weight was immense; Lucian was a 6'6" wall of muscle and ancient bone, and at 5'5", she felt like a toothpick trying to prop up a falling skyscraper.
She grunted, shoving her shoulder into his armpit and hooking her arm around his waist.
"Okay, okay, I've got you," she panted, though she absolutely did not 'have him.'
"God, what do you eat?" Lucian didn't respond to her witty insult. He let out a low, guttural groan near her ear—a sound of genuine, unbridled agony that made the hair on her arms stand up.
Through the bond, the pain was no longer a dull echo; it was now a pounding throb in her own chest, timed with the rise of the morning heat.
