Chapter 6
When I woke, the room was dim and heavy with shadows.
The curtains were drawn, and the only light came from the soft glow of a lamp on the far wall.
My body felt different, it was still sore, still aching, but not as raw as before.
For a long moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together what had happened.
The chains that had become part of my life. The constant smell of blood and then the day we were saved, the sound of the men screaming. And then him. Lucien.
My head turned slowly, and there he was.
Sitting in the chair beside the bed, broad shoulders leaned back, long legs stretched out like a predator at rest. Except he wasn’t resting.
Even with his eyes closed, I could feel the sharp edge of him, the weight of his presence.
It rolled off him, heavy and inescapable.
And I hated that it didn’t scare me. Not the way it should have.
Instead, there was this strange pull in my chest, like an invisible thread tying me to him.
A warmth that made no sense, it’s the kind of thing you feel for someone you’ve known your whole life, not a man who cut you free from chains and carried you like he owned you just a day ago.
My hand twitched, and as if he felt it, his eyes opened.
Dark, too dark. And when they locked on mine, I forgot how to breathe. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “You said…” My voice cracked, and I forced it steadier. My throat still feeling raw. “You said you were a vampire. That I was your… mate.” I shook my head. “How is that possible? Vampires don’t exist.”
He didn’t flinch, didn’t even argue. Instead, he leaned forward, slow and deliberate, and when he spoke again his voice was velvet and steel.
“They do. I do.”
“I don’t care what you say,” I forced out. “I don’t belong to anyone. Not you or anybody. I won’t be kept like…like some possession.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You’re not a possession baby. You’re mine. That’s not the same thing.”
“It sounds the same to me,” I snapped.
He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
“You think it’s chains, baby, but it isn’t.
It’s our connection. You feel it, don’t you?
That pull in your chest. The way your body leans toward me even when your mind fights it.
That’s the bond between us. You won’t be able to stay away from me, not without it tearing you apart.
The longer you’re away, the sicker you’ll get and so will I. Because you’re mine now and I’m yours.”
The air left my lungs in a rush. Because part of me knew he was right. I did feel something. Something dangerous and raw that scared me worse than the chains ever had.
“You’re lying,” I whispered, even as my pulse betrayed me, thundering in my ears.
He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved. “Then why do you want me to kiss you right now?”
Before I could tell him to go to hell, his mouth was on mine.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was consuming, demanding something I wasn’t ready to give, his lips crushing against mine with a heat that burned through every wall I tried to put up.
I should’ve fought, should’ve pushed him away, but my body betrayed me.
My hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer, even as my head screamed to stop.
And then his hand slid down my waist, over my hip, pulling me flush against him, and the warmth turned into fire.
“Lucien…” My protest broke on a gasp as his mouth moved, dragging down my throat, his teeth grazing the delicate skin there. I trembled, my pulse racing against his lips.
“You feel it,” he murmured, his voice a growl against my skin. “Don’t fight it, Sorcha. You’re mine. Always mine.”
I should’ve told him no. I should’ve shoved him away. But the way his hands touched me, they were firm, commanding, it stripped the fight from me. Each stroke of his fingers on my waist, each kiss trailing lower across my throat, lit me up from the inside.
His palm slid up beneath my shirt, warm against my bare skin. My breath hitched, my body arching into his touch without my permission.
A low sound rumbled from deep within him, not quite a growl, not a groan, but the sound of a man losing his patience.
He lifted me easily, pressing me back into the mattress, his body hovering over mine.
His eyes burned down at me, darker than shadows, hungry in a way that should have terrified me but instead made my thighs press together.
“You can tell me to stop,” he said, his tone low, dangerous. “But you won’t. Because you want this as much as I do, don’t you baby?”
I opened my mouth to deny it, to scream it, I don’t even know.
But then his hand slid up my thigh, parting me, and my breath broke on a desperate gasp.
He kissed me again, swallowing every sound, devouring me until the only thing that existed was him, his weight on me, his heat penetrating my cold, wounded soul with his life changing touch.
The rest of my clothes were gone before I even realized he’d stripped them from me.
His hands worshipped every inch of me, rough palms skimming soft skin like he was memorizing me.
His mouth followed my throat, down to my collarbone, the swell of my breast, sucking, biting gently until I was shaking beneath him, clutching at his shoulders.
When his tongue circled my nipple, fire shot through me. “Lucien,” I gasped, arching into the warmth of his mouth.
“That’s it,” he growled, dragging his mouth back up to mine. “Say my name when you come baby.”
My face burned, but the words sank into me, stoking something deeper than lust. It was possession, raw and absolute. His hand slid lower, parting me, fingers stroking the slick heat between my thighs. I cried out, my hips bucking into his hand.
“Already so wet for me,” he rasped, kissing me hard enough to bruise. “You were made for me, Sorcha.”
I didn’t want to believe it, but my body betrayed me again and again, grinding against his hand, clinging to him like I’d die if he let go. And then he was pulling back just enough to strip his shirt over his head which had my breath catching.
The first thing I saw were the tattoos, black, winding lines of ink crawling up his arms, across his chest, symbols I didn’t recognize but felt like they were ancient, dangerous.
They framed his muscles like armour, sharp edges and jagged patterns carved into living canvas.
His body was all raw strength, honed muscle layered over muscle, like he’d been built to fight and to win.
His chest rose and fell with a predator’s steady control, but lower, his abs tightened, ridged and cut, and the sight made my thighs squeeze together helplessly.
The dark trail of hair leading down only dragged my eyes further, until I had to force myself to look away, only to be caught again by the veins running thick and strong down his forearms, his hands, those hands that touched me like I was something precious and breakable and his all at once.
I swallowed hard, heat flooding my cheeks. He wasn’t beautiful in the way storybooks described. He was brutal, carved from shadows and fire, and God help me, I wanted him anyway.
His eyes never left me as he stood over me, his gaze burning hotter with every second I watched him. He knew what I was thinking, he knew what I wanted. And when his hands went to the belt at his waist, I couldn’t look away, no matter how much I told myself to.
This was madness, he was madness. And I was already lost.
His belt hit the floor with a sharp snap of leather, and the sound made my stomach tighten.
His hands went to his jeans, shoving them down in one rough motion.
My breath stuttered when I saw him, heavy and thick, his arousal standing proud like even his body knew I belonged to him.
A jolt of heat shot through me, sharp and undeniable, and the fear tangled with something darker…
want, need, something I’d never felt this raw.
Lucien’s gaze burned into mine as he climbed back over me, caging me with his strength. Every inch of him radiated heat, the kind that sank into my skin, the kind that demanded surrender. His chest pressed to mine, hard muscle against softness, his heartbeat steady and relentless.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear, his voice low and jagged. “The bond. The way your body begs for me. You’re mine, Sorcha. From the moment I found you.”
His hand slid down my thigh, rough palm searing my skin as he hooked my leg over his hip, opening me wider, pressing himself against me so I could feel the blunt, aching weight of him at my entrance. I gasped, my fingers clawing at his shoulders, every nerve ending screaming for more.
Need. Desire. It all blurred into one overwhelming rush as Lucien kissed me again, slower this time, a bruising kind of sweetness that broke me open from the inside. His tongue tangled with mine, his grip on my hip tightening like he couldn’t stand the space between us.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes glowing faintly in the low light, sharp and merciless and utterly decadent. “Say it,” he ordered, his voice a growl. “Say you’re mine.”
I shook my head, half defiant, half terrified, but my body betrayed me, arching up into him, desperate. A sound tore from my throat, something between a plea and a curse.
His lips curved, dark satisfaction ghosting across his face. “I’ll make you say it.” And then he pushed forward, just an inch, just enough to make me cry out and clutch at him like I’d fall apart without him. He stilled there, his forehead pressing to mine, his breath ragged.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, and this time it wasn’t a demand, it was a vow. And then he was inside me. One deep, hard thrust that stole the air from my lungs. I cried out, the stretch burning and perfect all at once.