The stone chamber was quiet. Too quiet.
Only the faint hiss of rain outside filled the silence, its rhythm tapping against the palace walls, whispering like a secret neither of them dared to voice. The torches along the carved walls flickered in protest, shadows stretching and shrinking with every crackle of flame.
Isabella stood in the middle of it, wrapped in Kian's cloak. It was far too big for her, the lion pelt draped heavy over her slim frame, dragging across the stone floor. Her golden hair clung damply to her cheeks, her lips tinted with that natural color that drove men insane without her even trying. She looked like sin dressed in silk and wet fur.
And the man staring at her—the one and only Lion King—looked like he wanted to devour her whole.
