Chapter 4
IV
EDEN
shouldn’t be here.
Lucian’s lips shouldn’t be on mine.
“Tell me to stop,” I whisper against his lips. “Please.”
He’s laying back on the couch, one of my legs on either side of him.
His hands grip my waist, while I’ve got mine around his shoulders.
In the crackling light of the fireplace, his green eyes look like sooty gems. Desire ripples through every muscle in his face—the heavy breathing, the sweat by his temple, his trembling lips.
“I should.”
He kisses me again, our lips moving together like we were lovers in a past lifetime. Heat streaks across my mouth, and his lips, his tongue are the only thing that can quench the fire. I arch into the kiss, his grip on my waist tightening.
There’s no pain.
Only a rush building in my abdomen that has me squirming in his lap. Lucian kisses me slowly, deliberately—like he’s memorizing the shape of me. His grip isn’t harsh, his touch isn’t demanding. He’s letting me take whatever I want.
Lord forgive me, I’m greedy but I can’t stop.
I tangle my fingers into his hair, parting his lips with my tongue. The kiss is so deep I feel like I might devour him. There’s no space between our bodies, just the frantic sound of ragged breaths, wet lips, strangled moans.
Lucian groans softly against my mouth. His grip on my waist is unyielding now. I’m sitting right over the growing hardness in his pants, and the more I rock my body against him, the more he seems to lose control.
It’s slow, it’s sensual, and it’s absolutely devastating—because I never want it to end.
But we finally pull apart.
I stare at him, panting.
He stares at me, thinly veiled desire cresting in his eyes.
Lucian rests his forehead against mine. I can’t move and I don’t want to.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel trapped.
I feel chosen.
I feel free.
“I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
Lucian’s thumb brushes the edge of my jaw so softly it makes me want to break apart. Every single one of his touches has been gentle, tentative. “Then don’t be, Edie.”
I close my eyes.
Maybe, just maybe, he’s right.
But for now, I don’t want this moment to end.
All I can feel is him.
The steadiness of his large hands on my waist.
The weight of his forehead pressed against mine.
The slow, measured breaths he’s taking—like he’s forcing himself to stay in control.
He’s waiting.
Waiting for me to say something.
Waiting for me to regret it.
Waiting for me to pull away.
I don’t.
Because I don’t regret it.
For the first time in so long, I did something because I wanted to. Not because I was told to. Not because it was expected of me. Not because it was duty. Not because it’s the right thing to do. I did it because I wanted it.
I move slightly, pulling back just enough to look Lucian in the eyes. The simple movement of my body against his has him sucking in air. His fingers twitch on my waist before he leans back, taking his hands off me.
I’m still straddling his lower body with mine, my hands flat against his muscular chest.
The loss of warmth from his touch is immediate.
And my body screams at me that it wants more.
Lucian runs a hand through his hair, composing himself before meeting my gaze. His eyes are even darker before—ladened with lust and something else—but they’re also more guarded.
“We’ve already done too much.” His voice sounds like he’s in agony. “If we go anything further—” He stops, shaking his head slightly. “I need to know this isn’t just because you’re hurting and looking for an escape.”
I swallow. “Of course I’m hurting and looking for an escape.”
His jaw clenches.
“But that’s not why I kissed you,” I finish. “I kissed you because it felt like the right thing to do. You’re my safe space.”
Lucian studies me for a long moment, like he’s trying to find a lie somewhere in my expression. Like he’s giving me one last chance to run.
I don’t take it.
He’s still, tense, like he’s waiting for me to deny what I just said. But I don’t—I’ve actually never felt more whole in my life. This moment, it feels full of everything I’ve ever wanted. All the care, the gentle attention…all the love.
Do I love Lucian?
It’s a scary thought to think.
I’d rather settle on liking the way he makes me feel.
“I’ve spent my whole life being told what I should want,” I say quietly. “What I should feel. Who I should be.”
He’s quiet, listening.
“Silas is the…safe choice. For my parents. For my future. I’m so used to silencing myself and my needs for everyone else that I figured…if I followed this path that they set out for me, it wouldn’t hurt so much when I got to the end of it.”
There’s a bitter smile on my lips.
“But then, Vivienne died. My whole world got flipped upside down. It’s forced me to think about so many things—including the fact that I’ve been dead for a long time, too.” I look down at his belt. The buckle is a shiny chrome skull. “I don’t want to feel so empty anymore.”
When I meet Lucian’s gaze this time, I let him see everything.
The longing.
The confusion.
My fears.
My hope.
“I don’t know what this is,” I admit. “I just know that when I’m with you, I feel like I can breathe, and that doesn’t happen with anyone else.”
That’s the sentence that does him in.
Suddenly he moves, pulling me in so close I’m hovering above him. He cradles my face again, this time, his fingers press lightly against my jaw.
Gentle, hesitant touches.
But I can’t figure out if he’s afraid that I’ll disappear—or that he will.
“I want to believe you, Edie,” he says softly.
“Then do.”
His thumb brushes over my lower lip.
Slow.
Steady.
Reverent.
My heart is slamming against my ribs, heat spooling in my abdomen, fire skittering across my skin. Arousal coils itself around everything in my chest—my heart, my lungs, scorching my ribcage. I’m out of breath.
Out of everything except my need for him.
Finally—Lucian kisses me again.
It’s nothing like the first one.
It’s not soft.
I feel him coming apart beneath me.
In a single deft movement, he pushes me back against the couch, pinning me with his huge body. One hand keeps my body pressed against his, the other sliding into my hair, tilting my head back, giving him more access.
Each swipe of his warm tongue against my lips has me wishing he would kiss me elsewhere—my jaw, my neck, between my breasts—anywhere and everywhere.
I writhe against him, silently begging him. My fingers tangle in the fabric of his t-shirt, anchoring myself. Lucian gives out a low rough sound against my lips when I wrap a leg around his waist, grinding myself against the hard heat in his pants. It sends a shiver down my spine.
“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs.
A whispered breath. “A dangerous saint?”
Lucian lets out a gasp that’s supposed to sound like a laugh. “A very dangerous one.”
All of a sudden, my clothes feel too tight. The heat burning through the clothes I’m wearing, I want it off—I want everything off. Hooking my fingers under the edge of Lucian’s t-shirt, I start to pull. He takes it off with an easy shrug. I can’t help but gawk.
Sure, I’ve seen glimpses of them before—the ink curling just past his collar, or peeking beneath the sleeve of his shirts. But now that his shirt is off, the crackling light from the fireplace casts dancing shadows over his skin, I finally understand.
Lucian’s tattoos aren’t random acts of rebellion.
They’re stories.
His right arm is covered with symbols and patterns winding from his shoulder to wrist. There’s a gothic cathedral, its spires reaching toward his collarbone before it’s lost in a swirl of black smoke. Beneath it, I trace the Latin script inked along the curve of his bicep.
“Fiat voluntas mea,” I whisper.
His hand has slipped below my skirt, moving slowly up my thigh. A moan escapes me—there’s nothing more that I want to do than spread my legs, but he keeps me pinned beneath him, at his mercy.
“Let my will be done,” he murmurs. “That’s what it means.”
The weight of those words settle on my chest. I know this tattoo is anything but sacrilegious. Lucian’s tattoo is a prayer he’s rewritten for himself.
A raven spreads its wings just above his elbow, its beak open in a silent scream. Its feathers bleed into thorns that twist down his forearm—delicate, deceptive, dangerous. I brush my fingers along the ink.
He inches his fingers closer toward the wet heat pooling between my legs. I buck against his hand, eliciting a slow chuckle from him. “Not yet, angel.”
“What do you want me to do, beg?”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. “Yes.”
I’m still in my uniform. If he’s going to keep edging me, the least I can do is make it harder for him—I untuck my shirt from my skirt and start undoing the buttons until I’m bare, save for the thin bra that I’m sure he can see my pebbled nipples through.
Lucian’s breath catches. “What are you doing?”
“Leveling the playing field.” I chuckle. His eyes are filled with something close to devotion, the only other time I’ve seen a look like this? When I catch sight of myself in the mirror while saying a prayer.
“Fuck it,” he whispers.
The next thing I know he’s picked me up, slinging me over his shoulder with a firm grip on one of my buttcheeks. And even as I’m hanging upside down while he walks with me toward his bedroom—I’m still looking at his tattoos, like a kid in a candy store.
Across his shoulder blades, in jagged strokes another latin phrase is written. I trace it with my fingers, trying to read it upside down.
“Ex tenebris lux?”
“From darkness, light.”
Black zig-zags down his spine, as if he’s been broken and stitched back together with ink. He has a set of wings—huge, detailed, but torn. It’s not angelic.
No, these wings belong to a fallen thing.
A thing that once knew how to fly.
“Did you come here to interrogate me about my tattoos?” he says with a humorous lilt to his voice as he tosses me on the bed. “Because I’d feel terrible if you’re just tricking me into getting naked for you.”
I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath my fingertips. Lucian doesn’t wear his strength the way Silas does. He wears his defiance, his grief, his untold stories—everything—on his skin.
“No,” I whisper as he slips me out of my shirt, then my skirt. “But I’m learning so much about you.” He smiles.
Maybe it’s because he’s seen me naked before, but laying on Lucian’s bed in nothing but my bra and underwear doesn’t faze me. What has heat coloring my cheeks is the intensity in his eyes. Every inch of my skin gets a lingering look.
He’s still wearing his pants.
I go to take them off but he pins my arms above my head with one his hands.
A simple motion—he’s so strong. The black hair flopping over his face, his hungry green eyes, the wolfish grin.
I feel like I’m floating away to a heaven where only Lucian and I exist. Where all that matters is the fact that I feel happy, alive and completely free.
With his other hand, he tucks a finger into the waistband of my panties. They bunch up at my ankles, then they’re gone. Lucian lets go of my hands to spread my legs, opening me up before him. He grabs my hips, pulling me toward him. For a moment, I’m lost about what he’s about to do until—
His tongue leaves a hot line along my inner thigh, then another.
My whole body trembles as I try to arch myself so that he puts his mouth where I actually want it. I’m certain my arousal is visible, dripping. I’m aching.
“Oh, Edie. You greedy girl.”
When he finally dips his tongue into my slick heat, the groan that slips out of me echoes in the room.
I root my fingers in his hair, moving my hips to the rhythm of his tongue.
He pulls me closer and closer with each stroke, until the entire lower half of my body is held up by his strong arms, his head buried between my legs.
I can’t touch his hair anymore.
So I grip the sheets as I feel the storm building in my abdomen threatening to break at any moment. His tongue is warm, his saliva mixing with the wetness of my arousal. He slurps, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
I see stars. My whole body starts to seize, trembling uncontrollably, my fingertips numb, static electricity exploding through my veins.
“Oh my God!” is all I can manage as the world starts to spin.
“My name is Lucian,” he growls, his voice vibrating against my hot flesh. “Why are you thanking God for an orgasm I gave you?”
An orgasm.
That’s what that was?
I’m at a loss for words.
Is this what sex is supposed to feel like?
I don’t know how long I lay there, basically catatonic, but it’s enough to draw Lucian’s attention. He stops, lowering me back to the bed, with a shadowy, sinewy arm on either side of me. He watches me curiously.
“Are you alright?” There’s genuine concern in his voice.
I nod fervently before I find my voice. “Yes I…I just think I’ve never had an orgasm before. It’s so…” I swallow, my mouth dry. “It’s amazing.”
A dark chuckle fills the room.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” Lucian’s voice is laced with humor. “Never?”
My cheeks start to heat up. “Stop laughing at me.”
He collapses on top of me, wrapping his arms around me before rolling over so I’m laying on top of him. Lucian puts a hand behind his head, the other tracing a line down my spine.
“I’m not laughing at you, Edie.” He’s wearing a huge grin. “Okay, maybe just a little bit.”
I huff, trying to move, but his grip suddenly turns strong, crushing me to his chest.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who says?”
“The person who gave you your first orgasm.”
“I have a feeling you’re never going to let me live this down.”
He kisses me, my lips still tingling from the fireworks that stunned me earlier. Then he closes his eyes, a smirk still on his lips. “You’re something else, Edie.”
I lay there on top of him, watching him.
His arousal is palpable. I can feel the bulge against my bare core. Yet he looks like he’s about to fall asleep.
“That’s it?”
He cracks open an eye. “That’s what?”
“We’re not going to do more?”
Another laugh. “Not tonight,” he says. “You looked like you were having a seizure, Edie. From one orgasm. You’re not ready for us to have sex.”
“What?”
“Yes,” he says. “Now shut up and get some sleep.” He flexes one of his hands, and somehow I end up beside him, curled against his hard body. “I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he mutters. “But the more you talk, the more you’re making me rethink not fucking you until you don’t remember who you are.”
Oh.
I close my eyes.
Soon, I drift away into the most peaceful sleep I’ve had since the funeral.