Chapter Fifteen #2
“I don’t remember being given orders to detain them so.
..I guess?” The muscular one scratched his chin.
“The important thing is that Lucien Ashfall is alive.” Stepping into the room, he never took his hand off his holster.
“You heard the doctors, Mr. Ashfall. You need a good sleep. Mr. Ward has gone to deal with a few things and will be back in the morning. Rest assured, there are multiple guards keeping you safe. We won’t let anyone breach the boundary so you can rest easy. ”
The other guard said, “Have a good sleep, sir, and then you can go home.”
Lucien stumbled, making both of us sway.
He groaned again, loudly.
Whisper snarled as if understanding exactly what his master was doing and decided to play along too.
“Can you leave?” I snipped at the guards. “Go away.”
The taller, leaner guard raked a hand over his shaved head. “I dunno. He didn’t sound very good. Perhaps I should—”
“He’s weak and just coming out of surgery,” I snapped. “Of course he doesn’t sound good. He needs to be lying down. Get out.”
“You’re right. I’ll help you carry him to bed.” He stepped over the threshold as if intending to scoop Lucien into his arms, but Whisper snapped.
With a roar, the panther switched from house cat to slaughtering storm.
The guards leapt back.
The door slammed closed.
And the moment it shut, Lucien swooped to his full height, stalked across the room, and flicked the lock.
Planting one palm against the wood, he bowed his head for a moment as if he wasn’t as strong as he looked.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sucked in a breath, and dropped his arm with a heavy exhale.
Whisper nudged his hip.
Lucien petted him distractedly as both man and beast turned to face me.
My heart skipped a beat.
Shirtless, his shredded abdominals flexed every time he breathed.
The thick bandage over the dagger wound offered a morbid symmetry to the no-longer-operational piece of metal over his heart.
And the bandages around his wrists were a damn sight better than the silver cuffs that used to bleed him every three days.
“You put on that little show to make them believe you won’t be up for any escaping tonight, didn’t you? You want them to lower their guard so you can sneak out easily.”
He just stood there—chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, his eyes diving into mine.
My knees threatened to buckle beneath the weight of his stare.
The room tightened, air sparked, and the longer we stared at each other, the more I tripped into him.
Into all those feelings from before.
Into all that heat and tension and—
He pushed off from the door.
He came toward me, one careful step at a time.
I sucked in a breath at how breathtakingly gorgeous he was but he was also dangerous and scary and no longer restrained.
Which was a horrifying, terrifying thing.
“W-What are you doing?” My breath caught somewhere in my throat.
He didn’t stop until he was close enough to bow from his tall height and press his forehead to mine.
I froze as stinging, sizzling connection erupted between us. He sucked in a breath as he cupped my cheek, walking me backward as if he fought both good and bad, evil and innocent.
I bit my bottom lip as my spine hit the wall. “Shouldn’t we be plotting our escape...”
“Probably,” he purred. “But don’t worry. I have a plan.”
“A plan?”
“I just needed you to get me out of Cinderkeep. I’ll handle the rest.”
“You’ll handle it?” My eyes popped wide. “How?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“But—”
“Thank you for being willing to kill me.” His nose brushed mine as his voice barely rose above a roughened whisper. “And thank you for doing such a bad job at it that I’m still alive.”
I coughed a little laugh, not expecting his thanks or for him to crack a joke.
I couldn’t resist the urge to nuzzle my nose against his, flooding with yet more heat and need and longing. We could delay running for a couple of minutes, couldn’t we? “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”
He just nodded.
Did that mean he was okay or was he in pain? How much pain? How long before he finally managed to live without pain?
Pressing his entire body against me, his hand slid into my long, rain-crinkled hair.
I gulped and licked my lips, melting on the spot. “What-What are you doing?”
He paused as if battling with himself, but then his eyes flashed with black determination. “I need to know if it’s really dead.”
Before I could ask what he meant, his mouth crashed on mine in a wicked kiss.
His hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to deepen, to take, to test.
He used me.
Completely broke me as he hurled me into all those feelings I’d done my best to ignore.
His mouth opened wider as the kiss turned reckless and cruel.
My spine bruised against the wall. His hips pressed against my belly, revealing how quickly he went from healing to hard. His tongue grew rougher, deeper—like he was daring himself to lose control. Pushing himself to the threshold that always knocked him out.
His tongue hunted mine.
I licked him back—
He snapped.
Slamming me against the wall, he held me prisoner as he kissed me like I was the only thing he ever wanted and the only thing he truly feared.
Fiercely. Violently.
I clung to him, begging him to give me air all while he stole it.
“Fuck...” He groaned, feeding me his voice, his hunger.
My pulse roared in my ears as my heart erupted, fissures of frost cut straight through my veins, doing its best to put out the fire Lucien conjured.
I didn’t know if it was the dregs of the pill he’d given me or something else, but my broken system struggled to tell what was lust or stress, crushing me with sudden pain.
I turned dizzy.
He kissed me harder, his hands tightening in my hair.
His bandaged chest crushed mine, feeding me the rhythm of his own heart. It hammered through his ribs, wild and unrestrained.
Faster. Harder. Louder.
He seized my wrist, slamming my palm against his chest—right over the vitalsync core. His thigh wedged between my legs, rocking against the part of me that needed, needed, needed.
Grinding his hardness against my belly, he drove me utterly insane.
Was this the moment?
Was he planning on stealing my virginity minutes after being electrocuted?
“Lucien...”
He swallowed my voice, nipping at my bottom lip.
The sharp bite of teeth. The hot heat of his mouth—
Something surged inside me like a sharp winter tide, full of icebergs and snowflakes, cutting straight through the fever in my blood. Instinct had me reaching for it. To wrap myself in the crystal coolness while Lucien burned me alive.
For one impossible second, the world felt fragile. Like I could freeze it, shatter it, and send it splintering into shards. Entire glaciers frosted around my bones. Snow blanketed me like a cape.
I wasn’t cold.
I was the cold—
But then...PAIN.
The chill turned against me, hollowing me out as it rebounded with raw, excruciating agony.
I cried out as Lucien suddenly jerked against me.
A hiss tore from his throat as if he’d felt my misery but then smoke...
The acrid scent of smoke tainted our kiss.
I tried to see.
To stop.
But he didn’t stop.
He went feral.
His lips captured mine so hard, so rough, he drew blood.
His body burned against mine and not metaphorically. It was like being pressed against a living star. A pyre. A cremation—
A gasp tore from my throat as more smoke billowed. “Lucien. Wait—”
He tore his mouth from mine, breaking the kiss with a sharp, ragged breath.
His eyes were wild and unapologetic, seeing everything and nothing. He stumbled as if I’d stopped his heart, backing away from me in horror.
I wobbled against the wall, my entire body tingling. For one terrifying second, I saw exactly what kind of man he could become without being chained by pain. What sort of nightmare he could be without his leash—
But then, my jaw dropped.
I wanted to rub my eyes because...it’s not possible.
Heatwaves contorted the air above his shoulders. Actual steam rolled off his bare skin with pale wisps.
His jaw clenched so hard, the tendons in his neck stood out. His already dark eyes were pitch black as he struggled to breathe, locking onto the wall behind me.
Staggering backward, his hand planted right over the metal disc. Between his fingers, no lights glowed. No red illumination to hint he was about to be punished.
So why was he so afraid?
I followed his stare and almost dropped to my knees.
A single strip of wallpaper had ignited with hungry flames—the edges curling and charring—the silvery flower pattern engulfed as the fire continued to climb toward the ceiling.
How?!
With a savage curse, Lucien lurched toward the bathroom. Whisper streaked after him, keeping pace as Lucien returned with the glass bowl that used to hold tiny toiletries for guests, now full to the brim with water.
Throwing it at the burning wall, the flames hissed and spat as liquid splashed everything—including me.
Only once the sizzle had ceased did Lucien lower the bowl and glance at the pacemaker still embedded in his heart.
“I kissed you to test if it was truly broken...” His chin tipped up, his eyes tight with questions.
“I thought my burning came from that.” His hand rose to claw at the device.
“I thought all my pain originated from this fucking thing but...” He looked at the dripping wall. “What if it wasn’t?”
A migraine shoved sharp daggers in my skull.
I wanted to help him.
To think about this logically.
There had to be a realistic answer for what’d just happened.
Perhaps one of the sockets caught fire? Maybe there was some exposed wiring? There had to be an explanation, but the longer we stood there, the more reluctant we were to speak.
My migraine grew worse the longer Lucien glowered as if all of this was my fault. With a groan, he backed up, dropped the bowl onto the couch, and raked both hands through his glossy black hair.
He looked on the verge of breaking.
He shook his head in denial.
His gaze landed on the fire-damaged wall again. “I...I need a shower.”
He fled.