Delaney looked up at his face. She felt a sudden, sharp sting on the side of her head. A warm, thick liquid was trailing slowly down her pale temple, sliding past her ear, and dropping onto the white lace collar of her dress.
It was her blood.
She remembered hitting her head hard on a sharp rock when they tumbled violently out of the moving carriage. The warm blood felt strange against the biting cold of the wind. It dripped down her neck, a bright red stain spreading across her white wedding silk.
Lucas squeezed his hand. His long fingers dug deeply into her skin, cutting off the air to her lungs. His dark eyes were wide, wild, and filled with a sick, victorious joy. He was finally doing what he had wanted to do for years.
