Chapter 9 #3
“And the hounds,” Lucien continued, causing Max to pause. “They will not come down here so you must order them to guard the door. All three of them. And let no one approach once the transformation begins. Not even you, Max.”
Max’s jaw tightened. “The dogs have never taken to being ordered about by me, m’lord. They answer to ye alone. If I try to keep them here, they’ll likely tear my throat out before they obey.”
“Then make them obey.” Lucien’s tone brooked no argument.
“They know the danger. They feel it in their blood the same as I do. Tonight could be the night that splits my life in half, that destroys everything I have fought to protect. If I break free, the hounds are the only force on this earth that might stop me. Or at least slow me long enough for you to use the pistol.”
Max exhaled through his nose, a rough, reluctant sound. He rubbed a callused hand over the side of his face, eyes flicking from Lucien to the doorway and back again. “Aye. If that’s what ye want, m’lord. But if they turn on me …”
“They will not.” Lucien met his gaze steadily. “They are loyal to Blackfen. To the bloodline. To the men who keep the beast caged. Tonight they will do what must be done.”
Max gave a single, curt nod. “Then I’ll fetch the extra lengths. And I’ll speak to the dogs. Though God help me if they decide I’m the enemy.”
Max left the cellar to retrieve the spare restraints, and Lucien watched him go, the ache in his chest deepening.
The silence that followed was not empty.
It was alive, thrumming with the quickening of his own cursed blood.
With his senses sharpened to an unbearable edge, sounds that should have been distant or impossible to hear now rang loud and cruelly intimate.
He heard the clank of metal long before Max appeared in his line of sight, links sliding against each other with a high whisper that set his teeth on edge. The noise carried through so clearly he could almost taste the metal.
Lucien’s breath grew heavy. The heightened acuity could be overstimulating.
When the curse had claimed him and he had first experienced this, he felt he had never heard so much, felt so much, known so much, all from such unimaginable distance.
It was as though the wolf was establishing his dominance, choosing not to give him the decency of waiting for nightfall to claim its dominion.
It was already here, seeping into his veins, sharpening his perceptions until the world became an overwhelming tapestry of sound and scent and latent violence.
Max walked in with coils of heavier chain draped over his shoulder. He worked in grim silence, fastening the additional restraints. Each new lock clicked home with the finality of a tomb sealing shut. When he finished, Lucien could scarcely move. The weight pressed against him, cold and unyielding.
“Done,” Max muttered, stepping back to survey his work. “If these don’t hold, nothing will.”
Lucien tested the bonds. Pain flared where silver met skin, a sharp, punishing burn. “Good. Now the door. Bar it and chain it from the outside when you leave.”
Max lingered a moment longer, his features etched with anguish. “M’lord …”
“Do what you must.” Lucien’s voice was steady, though his heart thundered.
Max swallowed hard. He reached out, clasping Lucien’s forearm in a brief, fierce grip. “God keep ye.”
“And you.”
Max turned away. At the top of the steps, Lucien heard Max murmur his orders to the hounds, commands laced with respect rather than authority. He then heard Max haul the door shut. Darkness swallowed the cellar, broken only by the faint silver glow that seeped through cracks in the ancient stone.
Lucien was alone.
There was no way for him to know how long he had waited before the quickening took hold.
The pain struck, sudden and merciless. His bones cracked, the sound loud in the silence, as though the very frame of his body rebelled against itself.
Agony lanced through his shoulders, his hips, his legs.
He bit down hard, tasting blood, refusing to cry out.
The chains groaned as his muscles convulsed, straining against iron and silver alike.
His vision blurred. Colors bled into shadow.
The scent of Verity, so vivid moments before, faded beneath the rising tide of animal musk and iron and fear.
His thoughts frayed at the edges, unraveling like thread pulled too tight.
He tried to hold onto her face, her name, the fragile warmth of what they had shared.
But the wolf surged forward, vast and inexorable, drowning reason beneath its hunger.
Lucien fought. He always fought. Yet tonight the battle felt different.
The beast was stronger, more certain, as though it had tasted freedom and found it sweet.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, too fast, too loud.
His teeth ached as fangs pressed against his gums. His fingers curled, nails lengthening into claws that scraped against the manacles.
The pain crested, a white-hot wave that threatened to sweep him under. His last coherent thought was of Verity, her eyes wide with trust, her lips parted in wonder, and then even that slipped away, swallowed by the dark.