Ignatius Leclair saw her in this state—though her breathing was erratic, her mind was clear, her thoughts unclouded, leaving no room for any trace of arousal. His heart sank instantly. His entire body burned as if his blood were reduced to ash, yet she remained so indifferent.
"Don't you like me? Don't you claim to love me to death? What, you're not willing to sleep with me?" Ignatius's voice rumbled with suppressed fury as he gripped her wrist tightly and pinned it against the pillow.
"I love Magnus, even though you look identical to him. But I know—you are two completely different people." Delphine's voice was hoarse as she turned her face away, avoiding his gaze. In the dimly lit bedroom, the night stretched late. Countless nights of searing, unforgettable memories mingled with unspoken sorrow and pain, crashing into her heart and engulfing her bit by bit.
