Chapter Fifty
“LUCIEN?” I INCHED MY WAY AROUND HIS door, entering the sprawling quarters that he hardly ever left. “Lucien?” No signs of him as I drifted forward, glancing at all his usual spots. Not on the window seat, in the courtyard, in the wingback by the fireplace—
“You’re late.”
“God, stop doing that!” I jumped backward as he popped up from the couch. Pressing a hand to my racing heart, I scowled. “You have got to give me a heads-up from now on.”
“Why should I? When it’s so easy to scare you?” Swinging his legs to the floor from where he’d been reclining, he stood and prowled toward me. “I like having the power to make you react.”
I stilled.
Something about the way he said that hinted he wasn’t talking about making me jump.
My mouth went dry as my body sparked alive.
I’d dreamed about him last night.
Of him touching me when I was actually awake. Of touching him back—
“You’re looking at me again,” he clipped, his tone sharp.
“I am.” I nodded, blatantly drinking my fill.
Black trousers, black shirt, but no black coat today. His thick black hair fell rebelliously over his forehead, his cheekbones stark as if he didn’t have enough to eat or was being eaten alive by pain.
The silver disc glinted through the open neckline of his shirt, making him seem both dangerous and trapped, restrained by a leash and feral because of it.
No one had the right to be that good looking. No one should affect my entire soul just by existing.
“If you’re done,” he muttered. “You have a busy day ahead of you.”
“I do?”
He nodded.
“You know...working me so hard might make me sick.” I did my best to stop being so infatuated by him. “And then where will you be? You’ll have to look after me instead of me looking after you.”
“You want me to look after you?”
My hackles rose at how offensive he seemed to find that thought. “Calm down. I’m not asking you to be responsible for me.”
“Responsible for you.” He scowled and leaned forward. “You do know what a loaded phrase that is in my culture, right?”
“No.” I swallowed hard. “What does it mean?”
He smirked just a little. “Asking me to be responsible for you is as blatant as offering yourself to me...for life.”
“I-It is?”
“It’s a clear emotional plea saying I’ve ruined you for all others and you can’t survive unless I claim you.”
“But...” My headache broke through the miraculous properties of his blood and throbbed. “I didn’t ask you to be responsible for me.”
“Pity.” He exhaled. “I might have said yes.”
I almost dropped dead on the carpet. “Wait. You would?”
He flinched as if only just realising where this conversation had gone. Shutters came down over his eyes as he stepped back and cleared his throat. “I don’t have time for this. We need to—”
“Thank you, by the way.” I cut him off, not willing to let the magic of this moment fade. “Thank you for saving me yesterday. Thank you for taking away my pain. And thank you for putting me in a different pavilion so I wouldn’t have to see the aftermath.”
His jaw tightened as if uneasy with my gratitude. “You’re welcome.” His gaze held mine before straying over my mouth, neck, and settling on my breasts.
Fire flooded me, arrowing between my legs.
God, how did he do it?
How was he the only man in the entire world able to turn me on with a single look?
Trembling a little, my hand went to what he stared at, resting over the swell above my heart. “Did you...did you do anything else while healing me?”
He froze.
Every muscle in his body locked as if I’d struck him. “Excuse me?”
The tendons in his throat stood out as if he choked on guilt and denial. His jaw worked, refusing to confess.
The air between us burned.
I wanted to tell him what Laura had seen. I wanted to see his reaction if I told him I knew he’d kissed me, fondled me...that he could do it again if he wanted.
But my frustrating condition broke through the numbing quality of his blood, steadily building a migraine.
The air continued to smoulder and smoke, becoming unbearably tense—
“You were unconscious.” Staggering backward, he sucked in a tattered breath. “I helped you, that’s all.” Sweat glimmered on his hairline. “I didn’t—”
A soft beep.
A flash of red.
He clutched his chest as his system activated awful punishment, just because he’d felt something. His hand landed over his heart, clawing at the piece of metal.
I dashed forward—
He flung up his other hand, snarling like Whisper. “Stay away from me. I can’t be close—” He broke off with a hiss, crashing against the back of the couch as pain arced through him.
Completely ignoring him, I closed the distance between us and planted my palm over his on that nasty device. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
He froze.
Our eyes locked.
The way he stared at me—as if he wanted to kill me and kiss me all at once. The way his teeth ground together and chest rose and fell beneath my hand.
For a moment, the world felt far, far too small.
Just him and me and nothing else.
But then he slid his hand from beneath mine and pushed me back.
Something wrenched inside me, but I didn’t fight him.
Awkwardness fell as he cleared his throat. “I feel better.”
I didn’t know if it was from me touching him or if his pulse had calmed far quicker than mine, but I’d already asked far too much of my stress-phobic system to tolerate.
I grew a little dizzy.
Meagre sunlight came through the windows, glinting on a faint scar across his chin. I latched onto it, doing my best to stay upright.
“How did you get that scar?”
His eyebrows shot up. “What?”
I blushed and dropped my gaze. “Sorry, I-I wasn’t studying you. I just...I’m feeling a little unstable and trying to distract myself.”
He didn’t move for the longest time before he cleared his throat and ran his finger over the silvery line. “I think it was from one of the first times the vitalsync core knocked me out. I bashed into a table on the way down.”
My heart fisted that he’d given me a tiny piece of his past. “Was anyone there to patch you up?”
“What do you think?”
I think he’d lived an incredibly lonely, tragically horrible life and even with all the blood staining his hands, I couldn’t find it in me to judge.
“How old were you?”
“Who cares?” He shrugged and broke into a walk. I accepted that was the end of his willingness, but he added quietly, “Ten, eleven? It’s not important. Come. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”
I followed him, full of pity for the young boy he’d been and the savage man he’d become.
“What do you need me to clean today?”
“You’re not cleaning.”
“I’m not?”
He didn’t reply.
“Where are we going?” I went despite my questions, rather well trained at this point to fulfil his commands.
He didn’t speak until he’d led me into his bedroom and turned to face me. “It’s time for another lesson.”
My stomach dropped. “What lesson?”
Crossing his arms, he ignored me. “Did you bring the knife I gave you?”
My temples throbbed with sharper pain. “No.”
“Where is it?”
“Back in my—” I cut myself off. “In the pavilion I used to live in.”
“Ah.” He nodded, both of us remembering the corpses and blood.
I braced myself for him to tell me to go collect it. To step over the bodies and bring back a dagger I had no intention of using, but he merely reached into his back waistband and pulled out the very knife he’d used to kill yesterday.
White noise roared in my ears.
Holding it flat on his palm, he offered it to me. “Take it.”
I backed up instead. “I’m good. Thanks.”
He exhaled, slow and frustrated. “I said, take it.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
“But...” I swallowed hard as my anxiety ramped up. “You’ve already shown me where the best places are to strike someone. That’s enough.”
His hand shook a little, offering up the dagger. “Once is not enough. I doubt you’ve obeyed me and practiced so...you’re practicing. Right now.”
“But—”
He shot forward, grabbed my wrist, and slapped the wooden hilt into my grip. His large, hot hand wrapped around mine, folding my fingers tight around it, not letting go.
His closeness, his harshness—it made the air spark and blood burn.
I shivered, unable to hide my reaction.
“Stop shaking,” he growled, his voice slipping beneath the black dress I’d borrowed from Evelyn’s wardrobe.
Goosebumps shot down my spine because apparently, I was crazy and infected with need I could no longer control.
Trying to get free, I forced a laugh. “I get it. I get it. I know how to hold a knife.”
His jaw clenched as he held me tighter.
I held my breath, needing him to let me go before I did something stupid.
With a soft groan, he moved before I could react.
His other hand landed on my hipbone, pivoting me and yanking me back so my spine slammed to his front. The spin left the world lopsided—his body steadying mine as firmly as a brick wall.
Lydia flashed into my head.
This was how he’d grabbed her yesterday. How he’d held her as he killed her.
“W-Wait—” I strained in his hold as his arm snaked around my middle, jerking me harder against him, ensuring I felt every inch of him. Every powerful, masculine, hard as rock inch.
I went absolutely still.
He...was affected.
Same as me.
I wasn’t alone in this madness.
Wasn’t drowning in a sea of need alone.
His chest moved against my back, his nose dropping to nuzzle my hair, and his hips...they twitched against my lower back, pressing unmistakable arousal against me.
My heart went berserk.
My pulse drenched my sensitive system with nervousness and need and pain.
I needed to run.
To get far, far away from him before I either collapsed or did something that would probably get me killed.
His hand flexed around mine on the knife as his hips rocked again, his arm slipping down my waist to lock at the base of my belly, holding me rigid. His fingers spread over my hipbone, trapping me as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting me go.
A soft moan escaped me as his nose pushed my loose hair aside, grazing along my neck.