LUCIAN SLADE

The nerve she had.

The sheer, unforgivable nerve.

I hurled my jacket across the room, not bothering to aim, not caring where it landed. The sound of fabric hitting the stone floor echoed sharply, but it did nothing to dull the fury pounding through my veins. Blood still clung to the cuffs of my sleeves, dark and sticky, but I ignored it. The maids would scrub it away. They always did.

My entire body felt wound too tight, every muscle vibrating with restrained violence. I paced ...