PREVIEW
... la even had time to blink. The whisper that had carried across the firelit square silenced laughter, silenced music, silenced even the hiss of meat fat dripping into the flames.
"Oh my," Zyran said, his voice dripping satisfaction, "it compliments your curves beautifully."
Of course it was him.
Of course.
Isabella turned, and there he was—Zyran, leaning lazily against one of the tall posts strung with lanterns, a smirk carved across his handsome, infuriating face. ...
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