18. Lucina #3
“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” His fingers shift along my neck.
“I bet people have told you that your whole life, and you’ve never believed it.
Never how you should.” Callan drinks in the sight of my face, and I let him, even though my skin crawls at the scrutiny.
His eyes move over my wild waves and curls, soaking in the sight of them too. “You are a work of art, Lucina.”
My eyes dart between his then I reach out a hand, brushing my thumb lightly across his bottom lip. “You’re free.”
“Thank fuck,” he groans, crashing his lips into mine, both hands sliding back in my hair—
“Fire’s out.” A door creaks open. “How is she—”
Callan and I whip our heads to the door, breathless, and I swear Pax’s eyes are about to fall out of his head.
Fuck.
Phoenix prowls out from behind him with a devilish grin. “She looks pretty good to me,” he taunts. They’re both covered head to toe in soot–
Oh, my gods, they’d been putting out the fire… while I’ve been…this. I’ve been doing this.
“Out,” Callan orders, and my cheeks heat when Pax tries and fails to suppress a smile. I will never hear the end of this.
“We’ll wait on the porch,” Phoenix winks.
“Good to see you up and moving, Cin,” Pax calls over his shoulder, and I scowl.
The door shuts, creaking slowly on its hinges, and Callan’s fingers come up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Sorry,” I breathe, scrambling to my feet.
Callan stands with me, grabbing my wrist and turning me back to face him. “What on earth could you have to be sorry for?” He checks the gauze around my hands, re-securing the bits that have come undone, and when I don’t reply, he stills.
The truth is I’m not sorry, not even a little bit.
“The answer is nothing, Lucina. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His fingers brush my cheek as he tucks a loose wave behind my ear, then his hand falls to twist the end of that curl around his knuckle.
It’s so simple and a touch that light shouldn’t trigger my stomach to flip, but it does.
Gods, it does. “I sent them to put out the fire, and I told them to tell me when it was done. I just assumed they’d knock.
” He aims the last word in the direction of the door, and I swear I hear laughter.
“So, it’s your fault?”
Callan chuckles, the sound a bit breathless still. “Yes. It’s my fault. But I’m not sorry.”
I shift on my feet to leave, suddenly aware that I have nowhere to go. My cabin is probably burned to the ground. I’m probably better off crawling into bed with Gemma, but someone tried to kill me tonight… would I be safe there? Would I be putting her in danger, too?
“Down the hall and to the right.” Callan nods just over my left shoulder, and my brows furrow. “I want you here until we can figure out who did this.”
I look in the direction he nods to, then turn back to face him. “And where is here?” I ask, a little embarrassed that I don’t already know the answer to that question.
“My cabin.” He passes me, taking a few long steps into the kitchen, then he pulls a glass from a tall cabinet.
“Help yourself to any of the clothes in the dresser,” Callan tells me, pulling a pitcher of water out of the fridge.
“There’s a bathroom in there, too. Use anything you’d like.
” He fills the glass to the top, then brings it over to me.
“You will be safe here. My entire coven lives in cabins that surround this one; they’re all seconds away if you need them. ”
My mouth pops open. “But I—”
“I know you want your privacy, and the second it’s safe enough to give it back to you, I won’t hesitate. But until then, I want you here. This cabin is yours as long as you need it.”
It isn’t in my nature not to argue, but whoever set my cabin on fire got away. I can’t go home, and I can’t risk Gemma, Kimber or Selene being dragged into this. Being here, having his coven in the cabins next door, this is the safest place for me to be. For now, at least.
My eyes flick up to his, a smile curving my lips as I take a long sip from the water. “All this was an elaborate ruse to get me to come home with you, wasn’t it?”
It's another distraction—the humor.
Callan laughs lightly. “No, it wasn’t.” His gaze darkens as it falls down my body. “But if I’m honest, the selfish side of me is looking forward to everything I own smelling just like you.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I must go to bed.
I move down the hall, then pause in front of the bedroom door, turning back to face him. “I can see myself trusting you—I can see myself choosing that.” Callan’s eyes flicker with an exasperated sort of relief, then his mouth splits wide in a devastating smile. “Saving me from a fire helped.”
His smile falters. “Lucina, whoever did this to you is a dead man.”
My eyes snap up to him in silent alarm.
“What?” he asks. “Did you think I’d let him live?”
“Well, no, I—I just thought maybe there would be some sort of trial process or—”
“The trial process,” Callan drawls, tugging his discarded shirt back over his head, “is my knife across his throat.” I blink back at him, and he smirks. “Goodnight, Chaos. I’ll be out here if you need me.”
I numbly wash off my smoke-ridden skin, stealing a shirt from his drawer before slipping into sheets that smell like rain-soaked cedar.
Sleep claims me faster than it has in weeks. Months. Years.
My Velkan doesn’t visit me.