CHAPTER 145
"Lucian..." Isabella whispered, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with a horror that surpassed anything she had felt in the kitchen.
She had seen him shirtless before. She had felt the scarred but smooth, hard planes of his chest against her own.
These marks hadn't been there. "What... what is this?" she breathed. "When did this happen? Is this why you've been so distant? Is this why the bond..."
The memory of him shielding his chest in the North Wing, the way he had hissed in agony when she collapsed against him weeks ago, and his frantic lies about "training injuries" all crashed into her mind.
Isabella gestured wildly at the three glowing, angry trenches in his chest. The fire within the wounds seemed to pulse harder in response to her distress.
"You lied to me," she whispered, her voice cracking as she took a staggering step forward, her bare feet splashing through the cold, pink-tinged water.
