The room was unusually silent as Damon sat on the edge of their bed, his head buried in his palms. Talia emerged from the bathroom in a long silk robe, towel drying her hair, but her eyes didn’t miss the storm cloud of guilt hovering over her mate.

“You haven’t said a word since we got back,” she said softly, dropping the towel and sitting across from him.

Damon finally looked up. “I can’t believe Lucien would defend her after what she did.”

Talia frowned, her patience thinning. “She didn’t *do* anything, Damon.”

“She made you fall,” he snapped, anger rearing up again. “You could’ve lost the baby, Talia!”

Talia...