Isabella’s POV
My fingers were buried deep inside my aching cunt when the first sharp knock shattered the silence.
I froze.
Pleasure fractured into panic. For years I had kept my body locked away. The hunter’s mark on my back demanded it.
Touch meant exposure, and desire meant a crack in the armor my bloodline had died to forge. Tonight that armor had finally splintered. Legs spread wide, nightdress rucked around my waist, I chased release with desperate strokes, thumb circling my swollen bud as if I could outrun the loneliness.
A broken whimper slipped free. I was so close. One more moment and I could pretend control still belonged to me.
The knocking returned and it was harder this time. Urgent even.
“Miss Ember! Open the door! He’s dying!”
The voice sliced through everything.
