CHAPTER 217
The transition from the freezing frost of the winter garden to the suffocating warmth of the Sovereign's master suite had happened in a blur of silent, terrifying efficiency.
Lucian hadn't waited for her to finish her tea. The moment his long, pale fingers had released her chin, his crimson eyes had dropped to the damp, snow-soaked fabric of her shirt and the faint shivering she was trying so desperately to hide.
Without a single word to Aleric—leaving the wolf prince standing alone amidst the shattered remnants of their failed training session—Lucian had simply scooped Isabella into his arms.
He had carried her through the sprawling, stone corridors of the mansion like a prized, fragile possession he was pulling out of a war zone, his jaw clenched, his ancient aura completely sealing them off from the rest of the world.
