-Elara Voss:
Challenging seven vampires at once wasn't the right choice.
The cold seeped into my skin as I sat against the damp stone wall, my wrists bound in thick, iron shackles laced with something that burned—probably laced with silver to keep Ronan and me restrained, and something else to suppress Lucien.
I can't use my magic, I can't see my hands but I can feel the iron gloves that covers them to prevent me from using my magic.
We were in some abandoned warehouse—dark, cold, and reeking of damp earth and blood.
Lucien was in front of us, chained to a heavy, bolted chair. Thick iron cuffs bound his wrists to the armrests, and his ankles were locked in place by chains that gleamed in the dim torchlight.
