CHAPTER TWELVE #2
He nodded and I instantly felt heartbreak for him and the guilt over the curse burned deep in the pit of my stomach.
I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for his torture…
for his pain, but before I could say or do anything, he pulled me against him once again, his gentle voice close to my ear though it felt like it was all around me.
“Hold on to me.”
I barely had enough time to wrap my arms around him before we were moving again.
The world lurched violently once more. It felt as though we were falling, yet flying all at once, then just as before, it stopped suddenly.
The world settled. The suffocating darkness lifted, replaced by the familiar flickering glow of candlelight.
My bedchamber. The scent of old wood and roses filled the space, grounding me.
Lucien’s arms remained around me, steady and sure. His breathing was calm, though I swore I could feel the faintest tremor in his muscles.
I took a steadying breath, adjusting my grip on the spellbook. I had to admit, it was impressive though I’d never tell him that. What he had shown me had been incredible and yet horribly tragic at the same time.
His grip tightened ever so slightly, keeping me flush against him. His fingers splayed against the small of my back, the warmth of them burning through the fabric of my dress.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over my temple.
“I just got transported through space by a possibly cursed not-quite-a-ghost,” I managed, but my voice lacked the bite I intended though I wasn't exactly sure why I was so angry suddenly. “Forgive me if I need a moment to—”
“To catch your breath?” His lips tilted, but his voice was softer now, quieter, more dangerous.
I swallowed.
His eyes, deep and unreadable, caressed my face, lingering at my lips for just a moment too long.
“You did hold on tight,” he murmured. “I rather liked it.”
“Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” His fingers trailed up my spine, featherlight, and I shivered. “Make note of the way your heart is racing?” He leaned closer, his voice a husky whisper against my ear. “Or the way you’re not pulling away?”
Damn him.
I should pull away. I should shove him back, put distance between us. But the heat of him, the solid strength of his body, kept me rooted in place. My hands, still pressed against his chest, curled into the fabric of his shirt before I realized what I was doing.
“You can let me go, Lucien,” I breathed.
His fingers skimmed the curve of my waist, slow, deliberate. “Say it like you mean it.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Lucien exhaled a quiet chuckle, his lips barely brushing my temple. “Interesting.”
That one word snapped me out of it.
With a sharp inhale, I forced myself to step back, breaking his hold. My body felt cold without his warmth, and I hated the way I missed it. Lucien studied me, something dark and knowing in his gaze. Then, finally, he stepped back as well, releasing me fully.
His smirk returned, slow and wicked. “If I didn’t know any better,” he murmured. “I might think you don’t despise me.”
“I don’t despise you,” I said a little too emphatically.
I shrugged, hoping he didn’t notice. “I don’t agree with how you got yourself cursed for your rakish ways, but that’s none of my business.
” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them, but I couldn’t take them back.
My own guilt about my grandmother’s involvement had turned into denial to soothe my devastation.
My anger, misplaced or not, came soaring back.
Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I needed to blame Lucien.
I needed to make an excuse. My grandmother would have never used that book unless it was deserved.
She would have never… I sucked in a shaky breath, hugging the book as if I could make it disappear… make her involvement go away somehow.
I felt those dark eyes pierce me without even looking up at him. “So that is what you think of me?” He asked, voice low and dangerously calm.
No.
I shouldn’t have said it, but the words were already out. I turned my attention to a speck of invisible dust on the desk, unwilling to meet those challenging eyes.
“The truth is not a thought, Lucien. The fact remains that you were betrothed while consorting with a lover who wrote you romantasies. ” The word tasted bitter as I said it, my voice betraying that.
I couldn’t help it now. I had to believe the one person in my life would have never betrayed my trust. The one person in my life that knew what I had gone through when I watched my mother kill my father…
The very person that had forbidden me from using necromancy for evil… She couldn’t have…
I needed this to be his fault. I needed to make it his fault.
The Duke of Ravenspire betrayed a heart, I repeated the words to the curse in my head, feeling tears threaten once again.
He was silent for a long moment, but I didn’t need to look up to know he was glaring .
“That letter could have been from Serena,” he argued coldly. “Your opinion of me is wholly incorrect.”
“How do you know?” I snapped. “You have no memory.”
He stepped closer and I fought the urge to move away. His fingers slid down my cheek, coming to rest under my chin. He lifted it, forcing me to look at him.
“Oh Mia,” he said, his voice low and calculating. “You sound jealous.”
My teeth clenched. I was not jealous.
Was I?
I shoved the thought as deep down as possible, seething at the notion. “I’m simply observing, your grace , not envying”
His hand fell to his side as he stepped back.
It was clear I’d wounded him, but it was for the best. Physically, we were both stuck here together, but emotionally, I needed to keep my wits.
I needed to find out why my grandmother had cursed him…
I needed to know whether the man I was irrevocably drawn to had done something so cruel as to deserve being cursed or whether my grandmother had betrayed me, because either way, one thing was clear…
I was going to leave Ravenspire with a broken heart.
Without another word, Lucien vanished.