            "Dark little witch," Lucius growled against her skin. Those fingers drifted up, catching her jaw, frustratingly, irresistibly gentle despite his broad hold. "I’ve seen your soul. I’ve seen it grow to the woman you’ve become. Even if Black survives this prophecy, he’ll never see it." His lips smoothed over her cheek. Almost a kiss. Not quite. Not enough. "If Black survives, he’ll never know you," Lucius breathed out. "He’ll never love you."