Chapter 17
Sadie
“What am I afraid of?” I repeat. “You have a terrifying amount of access to various security systems. You have an armory at home. You’re rumored to hunt people for sport. You want to cage me.”
Lucan’s features relax. “I have no desire to cage you. I just want to own the sky you fly in.”
“So much better.” I stare out into the velvety night. “Thanks for clearing that up.”
At least he’s honest about what he wants, I guess.
It’s a pity that his desires border on psychopathic.
“I’d never hurt what’s mine,” he says.
“I don’t know what that’s got to do with me,” I reply airily to annoy him more.
Lucan grasps the balcony railing. “I think you do. I also think you’re fucking liar.”
Forgetting my attempt at nonchalance, I glare at him. “How so?”
“Everything that just came from your mouth. Lies.” He speaks over me when I try to object. “You’re not afraid of any of those things. If you were, you wouldn’t be here with me. You wouldn’t have come to Altar or my house.”
The wind picks up, blowing my hair like I’m on a rollercoaster ride.
“What then?” I ask. “What am I afraid of? Since you’re such an expert on me.”
“You’re afraid I fucking see you.” His eyes drill into mine, like he needs me to understand. “You’re afraid of someone knowing who you are. I do, Sadie. I see who you really are.”
My face flames. “No, you don’t.”
It’s true that he makes me feel like he has X-ray vision when he looks at me. And it does scare me, maybe even for the reason he says.
But he doesn’t know me. He might think he does, but he doesn’t.
For a second, I think he’ll push back. His eyes flash with something that could just as easily be malice as passion.
Then his face shutters, like he decided he’s already shown me too much of himself.
His cold armor returns, his eyes like chips of ice. “Are you going to the Heritage Gala next week?”
Feeling whiplash from his abrupt shutdown, I take a moment to answer.
“Maybe,” I say. “Juliette mentioned it. Why?”
“Because if you attend, it’s a security risk.” Lucan raises his brows like it’s obvious. “The gala’s in Ember Falls. That’s where the killer attacked you last time.”
I shrug. “I’ll see how much homework I have. My creative writing professor is kicking our butts.”
His cool gaze turns thoughtful. “You’re really crazy about writing. You’re always scribbling in your notebook, even when you’re done with homework.”
“Creepy that you know that, but yes.”
“Tell me why you like it.” He taps the balcony railing with his knuckle. “I want to know.”
“Why?” I ask, still defensive.
“Because I just do.”
“You tell me. I thought you were the expert on my inner world.”
A brief smile crosses his mouth. “Fuck. Fine. Listen up, smartass. I’ll tell you why you write.”
He points at my chest like he’s making an accusation.
“There’s so much stuff in you that it overflows.
You need to put your stuff somewhere. You don’t trust people enough to give it to them directly.
So you make up stories with the stuff and put it on the page.
You give it to people that way. It’s how you connect with your fellow humans. ”
The defiant expression slides from my face as I realize how transparent I am.
Lucan watches me in amusement, while I do mental gymnastics to deny what he said. Arguments form and die in my throat.
Eventually, I turn my head in defeat and laugh.
“That was easy,” I say. “Writers are all the same.”
His brows draw together. “You’re lucky to have writing as an escape.”
I nod slowly. “What do you have?”
“Hunting people for sport, apparently.”
I smile. “You’re a business major, right?”
“I’m the heir to Hale Enterprises. What else would I study except business?”
“Have you ever wanted to be anything else?”
“Nope. Have you?”
“No,” I say.
“See? We’re more alike than you think.” His eyes drag over my lips, making my pulse jump. “We both only want one thing.”
My sensible side knows I should go and find my friends. They might be worried about me. Since we have no phones, I should’ve told them where I was going.
But something keeps the soles of my shoes glued to the roof.
Lucan has tethered me to him invisibly, somewhere behind my ribcage. I should cut the tether, and I will.
Soon.
Right now, every molecule of space between us buzzes.
I notice how his large hands look gripping the railing. He flexes his fingers, as if he’s thinking about wrapping them around my neck.
Everything about this is wrong. I’m a toy to him. A means to fulfill his lust for power, and to catch his cousins’ killer. I need to break the tension simmering between us before it breaks me.
Clearing my throat, I latch onto an unsexy topic. “You know, there’s a bar in Briarvale. The owner does these open-mic nights at the bar. Poetry, music, stories, all that. She asked me to take a slot. It took me months to work up the courage. I was shaking like a leaf when I stepped out.”
As I talk, Lucan leans in. I swear he doesn’t blink once. He just absorbs everything, like my words are nutrients to him.
It’s off-putting to be listened to so intently.
It shouldn’t be—it should feel good.
But dark cogs move behind Lucan’s eyes while I speak. I can see them.
What on earth is he thinking?
Whatever it is, I have the distinct impression his thoughts would either scare or humiliate me.
His jet-black brows raise. “Go on.”
I blow out a breath. “My performance was horrible. I read a sonnet, of all things. I don’t know what possessed me. There was this guy sitting near the front, drinking with his friends. He wore a fedora. I’ll always remember that. He heckled me the whole time. Wouldn’t let up.”
Lucan smiles like the devil. “Give me his name and I’ll take my sniper rifle out for a walk.”
“Ha-ha, not funny.” I slap his hard bicep and immediately regret it, because his grin only widens. “Even if I knew his name, I wouldn’t tell you.” I shrug. “No need for vengeance anyway. The guy was mugged in an alleyway after the show. He lost several teeth. Blood everywhere.”
“A happy ending then.”
“Only if you’re a sicko,” I say.
“So I’m a sicko,” says Lucan.
“You said it, not me.”
“Fuck that guy. Do what makes you happy.”
“I’m trying. Does your career path make you happy?”
“Career path.” He snickers. “Okay, Miss Student Advisor. You sound like Chuck Fairchild.”
“I’m trying to keep the conversation G-rated.”
“Now why would you want to do that?” he asks.
“Because you scare me. Remember?”
“Yet you’re still here.”
“Answer my question,” I say.
“Fine. Fine. Does my career path make me happy?” Lucan scrunches his eyes, like he’s trying to find the right way to explain. “I don’t have a career path. I have boundless expectations placed on me. A legacy to inherit. Happy doesn’t come into it.”
“But everyone deserves to be happy.”
“Even me?”
I suck my teeth. “I guess.”
“Go on then.”
Mystified, I shake my head. “What?”
He studies my mouth. “Make me happy, if you think you can.”
I roll my eyes. “Lucan, you are the most arrogant, insufferable—”
He must’ve been waiting for the second my focus was broken, because I’m caught off-balance when he puts his hand to the base of my skull and threads his fingers through my hair. His fingertips sweep firmly up my scalp, sending shots of electricity down my neck.
Unable to move my head, I gasp. “What are you—”
Lucan’s grip tightens. Running his tongue over his bottom lip, he tilts my head back to silence me. Something primal pours from him, like he’s a lion getting ready to eat.
I should pull away. I should return to my friends. My instincts scream at me to run from the man who calmly admitted he wants to own my world.
Lucan’s thumb brushes my jaw, like he’s memorizing me.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs.
“I’m not,” I say.
His wide mouth curves. “Liar.”
“Go to hell.”
He tips his face closer to mine. So close I can feel his warm breath on my mouth.
“Your pupils are so fucking dilated,” he says. “You can lie to me, but your eyes can’t. Neither could your pretty little cunt at Altar, blushing like a rose for me.”
His words make me want to curl up and die.
Why does he have to be so vile? Why can’t he leave me alone?
And why can’t I make him?
Lucan’s other hand slides downward over my hip, his firm touch making my stomach swoop. Before he can push his hand between my legs, I yank his wrist away, digging my fingernails into his flesh in warning.
He lets me, though his hold on my hair doesn’t loosen.
“Excuse me?” I ask. “Where do you think you’re putting this hand?”
“You’re right,” he says. “We should go slower. Where are my manners?”
He pulls me close, the world shrinking to just him and me.
When I release his wrist, he covers my throat with his hand. His touch is heavy and confident, completely without hesitation.
An undeniable truth repeats in my head:
I could leave, I could leave, I could leave.
But another voice inside me is louder:
I don’t want to leave.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” says Lucan, like it’s inevitable.
My pussy throbs in approval, even as disgust coils in my chest.
This man stalked me. I can’t let him kiss me.
I should stop him.
I should—
Lucan’s face moves closer, every single facet of his sapphire eyes drinking me in.