CHAPTER 56
Lucian didn't wait for a response. He didn't offer a comforting touch or a lingering look. He turned on his heel and strode toward the double doors.
Marco stepped aside instantly, falling into rank behind his King. The click of the lock as they exited was a sharp, final sound that seemed to suck the air out of the room.
Isabella collapsed back against the pillows, her chest heaving. The heat of the blood was still roaring through her, making her skin feel too tight for her body.
She could feel every thread of the silk sheets, hear every crackle of the dying fire—it was as if someone had turned the volume of the world up to a deafening level.
"He's angry," Clara whispered, stepping closer to the bed. She still held the cup.
"He hates that you see his gift as a pollution. Most would give their lives for a single drop of the King's essence, Isabella. To have him force it upon you... it wounds his pride more than he lets on."
