Chapter 127

"Prescott, put me down, I can walk on my own." In the corridor on the top floor, Camila peeked out from his arms. Her voice was scratchy from crying earlier, her complexion a bit pale. Though the flush had faded, her eyes were still red-rimmed and glassy. Her lips were swollen, marked by both fresh and faded wounds. She looked miserable-yet there was something strikingly innocent and alluring about her in that state. From Prescott's angle, with her loose robe slipping a little, he could practically see everything. Her fair skin and delicate curves were fully exposed to his gaze, and it was driving him insane. His throat was dry, and just as he tried to pull back his self-control, the heat in his dark eyes surged all over again. He stared at her, unmoved and silent, like a predator watching its prey. The way his eyes locked on her made her scalp tingle. Camila tensed and instinctively clutched the front of her robe. Her lashes fluttered slightly. She looked up at him and said hesitantly