Chapter Twelve – Evelynn
CHAPTER TWELVE
EVELYNN
Two hours. Two hours I have sat here pretending to read a book, while Lucian has just sat in the armchair in the corner of his room, staring intently at nothing. Lost in thought, his jaw locked tight.
I want to ask him what happens at midnight tomorrow. Clearly, it’s something that has him stressed, but what’s playing on my mind is whether it’s something I should be stressed about, too.
“I spy with my little eye, something beginning with D,” I blurt.
He snaps out of his trance and looks at me, not saying a word.
Fuck. Jesus. What am I doing?
I shift awkwardly, gather my hair over one shoulder, clear my throat, and try again. “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with D.”
He cocks his head to the side, his eyes never leaving mine. “Drawers,” he says.
I blink. “Yeah. Erm. Your turn.” I gesture lamely, fidgeting under his stare.
“Something beginning with P,” he says, still not looking anywhere but at me.
“You have to say, ‘I spy with my little eye, something beginning with P,’” I correct him.
“Why?” he counters.
“Because that’s the game,” I say, like he’s stupid.
“What if I don’t want to?” he presses.
“Huh? But why would you not just play the game how the game is intended to be played?” I argue.
The vibrant amber in his eyes flares at my retort. “My home, my room, my rules. I can play the game however I want.”
I fold my arms across my chest and roll my eyes. “Fine. Play it your way,” I relent.
“You back down too easily,” he points out.
My spine straightens. “I do not,” I snap.
“You allowed me to change the rules just because I demanded it.” He stands from the chair and walks towards me at the edge of the bed, his gaze never straying from mine.
“Maybe I just wanted to try and distract you from your thoughts,” I huff, moving the book from my lap. I kneel up on the mattress to meet his height and stare him down.
He stops, his body an inch from mine. I tilt my chin up defiantly.
“I will admit, you are a distraction.” He swallows, his eyes trailing over my body, down to the deep V where the robe has fallen open.
I swiftly cover myself. That smirk returns to his lips as his eyes find mine again.
“I wonder what else you’ll offer to distract me from my thoughts?” he asks, his voice low and seductive.
My lips part, a shuddery breath escaping me. I drink him in; his skin, his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, his dark, unruly hair that looks like it would feel like silk, the eyes... Of course, those godforsaken eyes.
My gaze lands on his mouth. His soft, sinful-looking lips.
I slowly wet my bottom lip.
Could I kiss him? Should I?
Somehow, he has moved even closer without me realising, his mouth hovering millimetres from mine.
When did he do that?
He brings his hand up, gently cupping the side of my neck. “I can feel your pulse quicken at my touch,” he rasps.
He lightly brushes his lips over mine, and my heart skyrockets as nerves and arousal battle it out inside me.
He grins. “A touch so light with my lips, causing such a reaction. I can only wonder what kind of reaction my tongue would cause.”
“I…this isn’t right,” I say weakly, my protest feeble.
He drags his lips teasingly over mine again. My mind and body are at war.
“Then tell me to stop,” he breathes.
I swallow.
Stop. Just tell him to stop. This is insane. He kidnapped you, held you prisoner, and drugged you. This is just Stockholm syndrome. Nothing more, I tell myself.
His tongue slowly traces along my bottom lip.
I shudder.
Why can’t I tell him to stop? Why don’t I want him to stop?
“Lucian…” I breathe, my body leaning into his, a desire creeping over me as I’ve never felt before. My breath is caught between us, everything quiet, everything narrowing to this.
The door explodes inward, ripped free from its hinges. Air rushes in, and the intimacy evaporates in the thunder of splintering wood.
Lucian moves in a blur, turning to face the threat, his body blocking me.
“Prez! It’s Hex!” Silas roars, panic etched in his voice as clouds of dust billow around him.
The rest of the brothers follow as Silas carries Hex in his arms. I shift aside as he lays him down on the bed beside us. Hex is clutching what is left of his arm to his chest. Blood coats his entire body.
“Talon!” Lucian barks.
I look to Talon, whose eyes are wide, fear skirting through them.
I don’t think. I move.
“Get me bandages, cloths… Anything clean I can use for the bleeding. A belt and something for the pain that will help calm him,” I yell.
Clutch bolts.
I move to take Hex’s arm, but he roars at me with such ferocity I stumble back, terrified. My breath catches in my throat, my palm pressing to my chest as my heart nearly jumps out of it.
I blink and swallow back my shock. Now is not the time.
“I need you all to hold him down and keep his arm elevated,” I shout, trying my best to shake off the fear.
Cain, Clutch, and Echo hold him down. Silas hands me a belt. I snatch it from him and kneel beside Hex on the bed as he thrashes around in agony.
“He’s in shock. I need you to get him calm. Give him something. Anything!” I bark.
It’s no use. I’m trying and failing to tighten the belt around his arm to stem the bleeding. Blood is spraying everywhere, coating my skin.
“Why is there blood? How is he losing so much fucking blood?!” Silas demands, fear for his friend etched across his face.
“He’s severed his brachial and ulnar arteries,” I say sharply, as if I expect them to know what that means.
“Here, drink this.” Viktor pours a dark red liquid into Hex’s mouth. Hex swallows without protest, as if he knows whatever this is, is exactly what he needs.
I have a million questions, but now is not the time.
Whatever magical properties that liquid has, it works. Hex calms almost instantly, and I finally manage to get the belt around his arm and tighten it, easing the bleeding.
“Keep his arm upright. Do you have his hand? Put it in a bag and get it on ice. Someone needs to call an ambulance or take him to a hospital now. There’s a chance they could reattach it,” I pant, my body utterly exhausted as the adrenaline slowly ebbs.
I push my hair away from my face and look down at myself, completely coated in his blood. I swallow back the bile that burns my throat and check over Hex again, his eyes now rolling back in his head.
“He’s lost too much blood,” I say. “He needs to get to a hospital now.”
The room is quiet.
I look up from Hex. All of them are staring at me.
I risk a quick glance down to see if my robe has come apart in the commotion. It has slightly, but nothing’s exposed.
I frown in confusion. “Are you listening to me? He needs to get to a hospital,” I snap.
I shake my head, not understanding why none of them are moving. I reach for Hex to check his pulse.
“Here,” Clutch says, halting me.
I look up to see him holding bandages, blankets, and towels. I give him a tight smile and take the bandage, wrapping it around the raw end of Hex’s arm. I wind it as tight as I can.
“Keep pressure on it and make sure his arm stays raised. If none of you are going to call for an ambulance, I guess I will,” I huff.
Making sure Clutch is holding Hex’s arm up, I climb off the bed. As I move around it, all of them—apart from Clutch—shift, blocking me from the door. Their stares are intense. Lucian stands to the side, saying nothing.
The way they’re all looking at me forces me to step back.
“I’m not going to run. He needs help,” I insist.
“You helped him,” Silas says coldly, his eyes pinning me in place. I shuffle back again as something in the air shifts, and I wrap my arms protectively around myself. “Why?” he adds.
I blanch, tilting my head, confused by the question. “Why wouldn’t I?” I counter, my voice cracking.
Lucian steps forward, placing himself in front of me, facing his men.
“Take Hex to his room. Talon, you’re in charge of his care. Viktor, he’s lost blood somehow and needs a healing elixir. When he’s settled, I want every one of you in Court,” he orders, his voice low with a menacing edge.
“No, Lucian, herbal remedies won’t work,” I start to protest, but he ignores me as they move, taking Hex with them.
Leaving Lucian and me alone.
The room has gone from panic and chaos to utter silence.
My mind is spinning. All I can smell is blood. All I can see is blood. And on top of that, they’re just going to let him die. That amount of blood loss, he won’t be able to recover. The loss of his hand, that kind of open wound… His risk of infection is through the roof.
I’m so lost in my thoughts, I don’t realise Lucian has turned to face me until he’s standing directly in front of me. My breathing is ragged, my mind fighting and failing to process everything that just happened.
Lucian takes my face in his hands, tilting my head back and forcing me to look at him.
“Calm, petal,” he breathes, his voice smooth as velvet. “I questioned it before, but after that, I know for certain.” His amber eyes are ablaze.
“Know what?” I choke out, his thumbs caressing my blood-soaked cheeks.
“That you were never meant to escape me.” He brushes his lips seductively over mine.
“I…I don’t want to be here,” I rasp.
“I don’t take what doesn’t want me,” he counters, “and you’re aching to stay.”
Even as the words leave his mouth, something inside me knows he’s right.
He smiles against my lips as if he can read my thoughts. His tongue lightly teases along the seam of my mouth, tasting me. I shudder, leaning into him.
“Say ‘stop’,” he whispers against my mouth. “Or say nothing… and be mine.”
My breath hitches. The million thoughts that were swarming and clashing in my mind fall silent.
I say nothing.
He pauses for a heartbeat. His eyes are full of hunger and control. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. It only draws me in further.
His body, his mouth, are so close I can practically taste him. It’s as if he’s giving me one last chance to step back.
I don’t.
His mouth presses against mine, slow and deliberate. His body crowds mine, possessive, as his lips move with devastating patience, claiming every inch of me, teaching me the pace he expects me to keep.
I respond, giving myself to him.
His hand slides down my body, around to my back, his palm holding me firm and possessive, anchoring me to him. The message is unmistakable.
I’m not falling.
I’m being kept.
Every second lingers, like he’s branding the memory into me, making sure I’ll never forget how it feels to be chosen by someone so dangerous.
He pulls away. I’m breathless and trembling, and the blood from my cheeks now stains his.
His thumb brushes over my swollen mouth, slow and satisfied.
I know it then, with a clarity that scares me.
That kiss wasn’t a beginning.
It was a claim.