Lulu

Dorian’s face was still stuck in my head, even after Niobe had left the inn. I stared at the sketch again, trying to dig up whatever scraps of memory might still be buried beneath the trauma of having my heart ripped out.

That jawline, that cold gaze felt like a piece of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

“Still thinking about him, love?” Caspian asked softly, resting his hand over the copy of Dorian’s sketch.

“Yeah, you know what I’m like,” I murmured, feeling that odd pulse ...